Well we're into the quarter finals of the World Cup, which means higher stakes, but fewer games. Indeed we're in the midst of a two day "rest period" before the next round kicks off. What is a boy to do? Well, one suggestion would be to visit the spot that was voted the number one tourist attraction in South Africa in 2009. A safari? No. The home of Nelson Mandela? No. That would be the South African Brewer's World of Beer.
Brewery tours are always a safe bet when you are traveling. You're bound to get a couple of free beers at the end of the tour. Essentially these are the legal equivalent to a crack dealer giving you the first hit for free. It doesn't seem to make economic sense, but if they get you hooked on their brew, then they will profit for years to come. Take, for example, the Carlsberg Brewery tour in Copenhagen. The delicious free glass of Tuborg Classic I drank ensured I'd be drinking Tuburg Classic for the remainder of my stay.
The World of Beer was bizarre from the beginning. As we stepped in we were greeted with a bombastic voice recording that equated the story of life to the Story of Beer. We also watched a hilariously overacted 3D Indiana Jones rip-off that told us about the making of beer in ancient Egypt. Next, we watched a video about traditional African beer and the guide passed around a jug of this concoction. I was a bit worried about catching a cold but I reasoned it was no different from drinking the wine at church.
Following some more bizarre videos we moved to an olde-tyme bar where they served us a small glass of beer. We were supposed to keep the glass, but I really didn't need an easily-breakable souvenir. We got to the section that described the making of beer in the most absurdly over-the-top terms. There's really no point in trying to use words to describe how ridiculous this section was; you need to hear it yourself.
After this, it was time for the coup de grace: the pub. As usual, we had received tickets for two free beers at the end of the tour. Also as usual, there were people who didn't drink their allotment and passed it off to us. Four beers later (each), we headed home happy. It was funny, but obviously some people put a lot of work into this so I would recommend it. I mean, 30 rand for 5 beers? You can't beat that!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
The Streets of Johannesburg
My guest house is in the suburbs of Jo'burg. Walking home from the fan park at dusk a few weeks ago was an eerie experience. I've lived in the urban jungle of Daejeon for so long that seeing houses, trees, and grass felt like being home again. There was a moment where, for all I could tell, I could have been walking in Johannesburg or in Ravenna.
During the day, it's like walking through a very peaceful war zone. The light reveals that every house in the area has a wall or steel fence around it. Guard dogs are common and have a habit of scaring the crap out of you as you walk by - note to self, bring chocolate on next walk. Signs advertising "armed response" dot the landscape. Fences around schools are topped by barbed wire or its more ferocious cousin, razor wire. Some houses, including the one I'm staying at, even feature electric fences on top of the walls. I can occasionally hear the clicking sound that indicates these are functioning, though I'd be lying if I said I never considered chucking a ball of aluminum foil at them to test their efficacy.
These measures are costly, so they wouldn't be there if they weren't needed. It's a bit depressing though. It encourages a very paranoid and isolated state of mind. I walk quickly with my head down. I don't say hello to people; if they say something to me I smile quickly and carry on. But when you're surrounded by electric fences, you don't feel like being very friendly.
During the day, it's like walking through a very peaceful war zone. The light reveals that every house in the area has a wall or steel fence around it. Guard dogs are common and have a habit of scaring the crap out of you as you walk by - note to self, bring chocolate on next walk. Signs advertising "armed response" dot the landscape. Fences around schools are topped by barbed wire or its more ferocious cousin, razor wire. Some houses, including the one I'm staying at, even feature electric fences on top of the walls. I can occasionally hear the clicking sound that indicates these are functioning, though I'd be lying if I said I never considered chucking a ball of aluminum foil at them to test their efficacy.
These measures are costly, so they wouldn't be there if they weren't needed. It's a bit depressing though. It encourages a very paranoid and isolated state of mind. I walk quickly with my head down. I don't say hello to people; if they say something to me I smile quickly and carry on. But when you're surrounded by electric fences, you don't feel like being very friendly.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Have You Seen This Man?
MISSING
Presumed Sulking
Cristiano Ronaldo
Missing since June 29, 2010
Reward: £80 million
If you have seen him, please call 1-800-MTROSXL
Look, I'll freely admit to having mocked Ronaldo's tears at EURO 2004, but at least that showed he cared about Portugal. Today, against Spain, he looked like he was being forced into playing for a Gulag XI. It started ominously when he was the one Portuguese player who wasn't singing the national anthem. He then proceeded to produce 90 minutes of utter anonymity. At one point he pulled rank on Simao in order to take a hopeless 40 yard free kick. And indeed, the only thing he did all game was to take Quixotic long range shots against his Real Madrid teammate Iker Casillas, arguably the best keeper in the world. Well that's not all he did, in fairness. He also looked disapprovingly at his teammates when they dared to be out of range of his poor crosses. I guess he also dove a few times too, though the referee was having none of it from either side; it's about time a referee figured out how these teams play.
It seems like a long time ago that people actually used to debate whether or not Messi or Ronaldo was the better player. On that performance, Ronaldo shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence as Messi. Perhaps Sir Alex has once again sold a player to Madrid at the exact right time. Ronaldo only contributed against North Korea, and you hardly have to be a world beater to do that.
In contrast, I thought the Portugal keeper Eduardo was absolutely outstanding, both as a player and as a representative of his country. As usual, he was belting "A Portuguesa" before the game. During the game, he pulled off a series of outstanding saves, and he was only beaten when David Villa slammed a rebound off the crossbar and in. After the game, he looked gutted, and deservedly so given the effort he put in. He's not a household name and he doesn't play for a big club, but he would be a good shout for the team of the tournament. He and young left-back Fábio Coentrão (and possibly Carvalho) were the only Portuguese players to come out of the World Cup with any credit.
It's onwards and upwards for Spain against Paraguay. Spain haven't really been tested in this tournament - fluke defeat against Switzerland notwithstanding - and given the evidence from earlier today, it will be an easy win over the South Americans.
It seems like a long time ago that people actually used to debate whether or not Messi or Ronaldo was the better player. On that performance, Ronaldo shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence as Messi. Perhaps Sir Alex has once again sold a player to Madrid at the exact right time. Ronaldo only contributed against North Korea, and you hardly have to be a world beater to do that.
In contrast, I thought the Portugal keeper Eduardo was absolutely outstanding, both as a player and as a representative of his country. As usual, he was belting "A Portuguesa" before the game. During the game, he pulled off a series of outstanding saves, and he was only beaten when David Villa slammed a rebound off the crossbar and in. After the game, he looked gutted, and deservedly so given the effort he put in. He's not a household name and he doesn't play for a big club, but he would be a good shout for the team of the tournament. He and young left-back Fábio Coentrão (and possibly Carvalho) were the only Portuguese players to come out of the World Cup with any credit.
It's onwards and upwards for Spain against Paraguay. Spain haven't really been tested in this tournament - fluke defeat against Switzerland notwithstanding - and given the evidence from earlier today, it will be an easy win over the South Americans.
If You Can't Say Anything Nice, Don't Say Anything At All
With that said, here are my thoughts on the Paraguay vs. Japan game:
That is all.
That is all.
It's Not Easy Being Dunga
I wouldn't quite sell my soul for a USA 3-0 World Cup Round of 16 victory, but I would gladly don a flesh-colored body stocking and run around the stadium a la George Costanza. A 3-0 win at the World Cup is always an impressive achievement, unless perhaps you're playing the DPRK. Still, my friend and I came out of last night's match between Brazil and Chile thinking, man, what a terrible game.
Part of the problem was that Chile really never showed up for this game. Once they went down 2-0 by half time they never looked like getting back into it. They had a few late chances but Brazil were comfortable and deserved winners.
The other issue is that this Brazil team simply doesn't have the flair of the 1970 or1982 editions. That's what you might expect from coach Dunga, who as a player was more of a midfield destroyer than a stylish Garrincha. In fact, the early 90's was known in Brazil as Era Dunga for the perceived boring, negative style of play. Some of these people need to watch a Bolton game, for God's sake.
This has been reflected in his team selection. While predecessor Carlos Alberto Parreira tried to shoehorn as many attackers as possible into his team as possible (Adriano, Ronaldinho, Ronaldo, Kaka, Robinho . . .) Dunga has taken a much more pragmatic view and his first choice team includes two holding midfielders, Gilberto Silva and Felipe Melo. He even left Ronaldinho in Milan. You can't argue with the results, as they breezed through qualifying and are easily into the quarterfinals. As a Bolton supporter, I understand it's better to win ugly than lose beautifully.
Still, it's hard to escape the idea that for $200, I should have gotten more enjoyment from a Brazil game.
Part of the problem was that Chile really never showed up for this game. Once they went down 2-0 by half time they never looked like getting back into it. They had a few late chances but Brazil were comfortable and deserved winners.
The other issue is that this Brazil team simply doesn't have the flair of the 1970 or1982 editions. That's what you might expect from coach Dunga, who as a player was more of a midfield destroyer than a stylish Garrincha. In fact, the early 90's was known in Brazil as Era Dunga for the perceived boring, negative style of play. Some of these people need to watch a Bolton game, for God's sake.
This has been reflected in his team selection. While predecessor Carlos Alberto Parreira tried to shoehorn as many attackers as possible into his team as possible (Adriano, Ronaldinho, Ronaldo, Kaka, Robinho . . .) Dunga has taken a much more pragmatic view and his first choice team includes two holding midfielders, Gilberto Silva and Felipe Melo. He even left Ronaldinho in Milan. You can't argue with the results, as they breezed through qualifying and are easily into the quarterfinals. As a Bolton supporter, I understand it's better to win ugly than lose beautifully.
Still, it's hard to escape the idea that for $200, I should have gotten more enjoyment from a Brazil game.
Jorge Larrionda Strikes Again
As I was watching the highlights of the England vs. Germany match, the match that included Frank Lampard's now infamous "ghost goal," a certain piece of information caught my ear. The referee for the match was Jorge Larrionda from Uruguay. Sound familiar? If you're American, it probably does.
Larrionda was the referee in the infamous USA vs. Italy match in the 2006 World Cup. He correctly sent off Daniele De Rossi for a brutal, blood-drawing elbow on Brian McBride. He then proceeded to send off Pablo Mastroeni and Eddie Pope for the USA, which were both widely regarded as "make-up calls" by American commentators. Three years later, he questionably sent off Michael Bradley in the semi-final of the Confederations Cup, causing him to miss the final against Brazil.
One would think that perhaps Larrionda is biased against the United States. However, the horrendous call regarding Lampard's goal and the fact that he missed a handball in the Australia vs. Serbia game (if Serbia had scored the subsequent penalty, they would have gone through to the Round of 16) raises the possibility that he is simply incompetent. There is, however, another possibility.
Larrionda was selected as a referee for the 2002 World Cup, but did not take part after he was suspended by the Uruguayan FA for six months. The reason? According to Wikipedia, it was due to "irregularities that were denounced by other referees." ESPN goes further: "The suspensions reportedly were connected with accusations of corruption between members of rival unions that represent Uruguay's match officials." While he did not referee in 2002, he was inexplicably chosen for 2006 and 2010, despite questionable performances and a suspicious suspension from his own country.
FIFA President Sepp Blatter has since apologized to England and said they would look into goal-line technology. However, FIFA's history of employing this incompetent - and quite possibly "irregular," whatever that means - referee suggests that they simply don't care very much about getting big calls right.
Larrionda was the referee in the infamous USA vs. Italy match in the 2006 World Cup. He correctly sent off Daniele De Rossi for a brutal, blood-drawing elbow on Brian McBride. He then proceeded to send off Pablo Mastroeni and Eddie Pope for the USA, which were both widely regarded as "make-up calls" by American commentators. Three years later, he questionably sent off Michael Bradley in the semi-final of the Confederations Cup, causing him to miss the final against Brazil.
One would think that perhaps Larrionda is biased against the United States. However, the horrendous call regarding Lampard's goal and the fact that he missed a handball in the Australia vs. Serbia game (if Serbia had scored the subsequent penalty, they would have gone through to the Round of 16) raises the possibility that he is simply incompetent. There is, however, another possibility.
Larrionda was selected as a referee for the 2002 World Cup, but did not take part after he was suspended by the Uruguayan FA for six months. The reason? According to Wikipedia, it was due to "irregularities that were denounced by other referees." ESPN goes further: "The suspensions reportedly were connected with accusations of corruption between members of rival unions that represent Uruguay's match officials." While he did not referee in 2002, he was inexplicably chosen for 2006 and 2010, despite questionable performances and a suspicious suspension from his own country.
FIFA President Sepp Blatter has since apologized to England and said they would look into goal-line technology. However, FIFA's history of employing this incompetent - and quite possibly "irregular," whatever that means - referee suggests that they simply don't care very much about getting big calls right.
Scalped
FIFA took measures to limit ticket re-selling, sometimes less charitably known as "scalping." In order to claim your tickets in South Africa, you needed to present the credit card that they were purchased with. Obviously, if you bought tickets online from somebody in the States and they weren't in South Africa to claim them for you, you're SOL.
Furthermore, the name of the purchaser is printed on the tickets. Theoretically this should prevent re-selling, as they will check your ticket against your passport at the gate. Presumably a major reason for this is to keep tickets out of the hands of known hooligans, or to provide a method for tracking down people who cause trouble in the stadium. I ran afoul of this system when I was in Italy trying to pick up Fiorentina tickets. It was the first game of the season and the process was agonizingly slow, leading to huge lines at the ticket centers and causing me to miss 30 minutes of the match. In fairness, they at least checked my passport at the gate, thus fulfilling the purpose of the system.
At no point in South Africa has anybody verified the name on my ticket, and plenty of my friends had picked up tickets outside the stadium and gotten in, indicating that FIFA has somehow managed to be less efficient than the corruption-riddled Italian FA. This emboldened me to buy tickets for the Brazil vs. Chile game off the internet, as it was in Johannesburg and I had declined to go to Durban for the Netherlands vs. Slovakia game.
One thing I noticed is that some people are wildly optimistic when it comes to selling their tickets. A friend of a friend was selling Category 2 tickets but wanted $600 for them - four times the face value. Let me reiterate that this price was quoted to me just hours before the game. Where did he think he'd find that kind of sucker in that kind of time? With that avenue having failed, I turned to Craigslist. Again, the disconnect from reality was staggering. I mean, four hours before the game, people were asking for $100 above face value. Surely if you haven't found a buyer at that point it's time to give up on dreams of turning a profit and just hope you can make your money back.
Indeed, I was able to find a much more reasonable gentleman who was selling good seats for their face value and was able to meet us at the stadium. Of course, you're always a bit nervous that these will turn out to be fake, but my friend and I were able to get in and take our seats and watch a game that was in no way worth the face value of the tickets. More on that later.
Furthermore, the name of the purchaser is printed on the tickets. Theoretically this should prevent re-selling, as they will check your ticket against your passport at the gate. Presumably a major reason for this is to keep tickets out of the hands of known hooligans, or to provide a method for tracking down people who cause trouble in the stadium. I ran afoul of this system when I was in Italy trying to pick up Fiorentina tickets. It was the first game of the season and the process was agonizingly slow, leading to huge lines at the ticket centers and causing me to miss 30 minutes of the match. In fairness, they at least checked my passport at the gate, thus fulfilling the purpose of the system.
At no point in South Africa has anybody verified the name on my ticket, and plenty of my friends had picked up tickets outside the stadium and gotten in, indicating that FIFA has somehow managed to be less efficient than the corruption-riddled Italian FA. This emboldened me to buy tickets for the Brazil vs. Chile game off the internet, as it was in Johannesburg and I had declined to go to Durban for the Netherlands vs. Slovakia game.
One thing I noticed is that some people are wildly optimistic when it comes to selling their tickets. A friend of a friend was selling Category 2 tickets but wanted $600 for them - four times the face value. Let me reiterate that this price was quoted to me just hours before the game. Where did he think he'd find that kind of sucker in that kind of time? With that avenue having failed, I turned to Craigslist. Again, the disconnect from reality was staggering. I mean, four hours before the game, people were asking for $100 above face value. Surely if you haven't found a buyer at that point it's time to give up on dreams of turning a profit and just hope you can make your money back.
Indeed, I was able to find a much more reasonable gentleman who was selling good seats for their face value and was able to meet us at the stadium. Of course, you're always a bit nervous that these will turn out to be fake, but my friend and I were able to get in and take our seats and watch a game that was in no way worth the face value of the tickets. More on that later.
Monday, June 28, 2010
England Expects (But Disappoints)
OK, so we're all aware of one giant reason for England's elimination:
But let's go ahead and look at the real reason:
To some degree, I'm just so disappointed in Capello. Not because I have any fondness for the England team, but because Capello was supposed to be a tough manager who wouldn't select players based on reputation or playing for a "big club." I thought this might be a chance for guys like Gary Cahill from Bolton to finally get in the team ahead of the usual ranks of undeserving turds from Tottenham and West Ham.
Nope.
Instead, the England faithful were treated to the same old same old. Gerrard and Lampard played in the middle together. Useless lump Emile Heskey - who isn't even playing for Aston Villa and is less effective than Super Kevin Davies - was not only called up but started matches and was brought on when chasing the game against Germany. Aaron Lennon couldn't even get anything against the United States despite taking on a slow and out of position Carlos Bocanegra. Robert Green made a horrendous error, as any Bolton fan knew was inevitable. Ledley King and Jamie Carragher have no place on a football pitch, let alone a World Cup football pitch. And Matthew Upson? A train wreck in defense, as usual.
What's the solution? I propose drastic action. The usual suspects need to go for EURO 2012 qualifying. Gerrard, Lampard, Ferdinand, Terry, Ashley Cole, Green, and Upson fail every time they put on an England shirt in a major tournament. Maybe they can't play together, maybe they don't care about their country - certainly true of Steven Gerrard, who has a remarkable history of being injured for an England match and then being fit four days later for Liverpool. Whatever the reason, they haven't succeeded in the last decade, and they never will.
EURO 2012 should be seen as a clean slate. Younger players like Joe Hart, James Milner, Gary Cahill, Darren Bent, Adam Johnson, etc. need to be seen as integral parts of the team. Maybe they'll make it. Maybe, like Germany, a young and underrated side can shock the world. At least it's better than the utter certainty of early elimination that comes with the old guard.
As Kurt Russell said in Miracle, it's not about the best players. It's about the right ones.
But let's go ahead and look at the real reason:
To some degree, I'm just so disappointed in Capello. Not because I have any fondness for the England team, but because Capello was supposed to be a tough manager who wouldn't select players based on reputation or playing for a "big club." I thought this might be a chance for guys like Gary Cahill from Bolton to finally get in the team ahead of the usual ranks of undeserving turds from Tottenham and West Ham.
Nope.
Instead, the England faithful were treated to the same old same old. Gerrard and Lampard played in the middle together. Useless lump Emile Heskey - who isn't even playing for Aston Villa and is less effective than Super Kevin Davies - was not only called up but started matches and was brought on when chasing the game against Germany. Aaron Lennon couldn't even get anything against the United States despite taking on a slow and out of position Carlos Bocanegra. Robert Green made a horrendous error, as any Bolton fan knew was inevitable. Ledley King and Jamie Carragher have no place on a football pitch, let alone a World Cup football pitch. And Matthew Upson? A train wreck in defense, as usual.
What's the solution? I propose drastic action. The usual suspects need to go for EURO 2012 qualifying. Gerrard, Lampard, Ferdinand, Terry, Ashley Cole, Green, and Upson fail every time they put on an England shirt in a major tournament. Maybe they can't play together, maybe they don't care about their country - certainly true of Steven Gerrard, who has a remarkable history of being injured for an England match and then being fit four days later for Liverpool. Whatever the reason, they haven't succeeded in the last decade, and they never will.
EURO 2012 should be seen as a clean slate. Younger players like Joe Hart, James Milner, Gary Cahill, Darren Bent, Adam Johnson, etc. need to be seen as integral parts of the team. Maybe they'll make it. Maybe, like Germany, a young and underrated side can shock the world. At least it's better than the utter certainty of early elimination that comes with the old guard.
As Kurt Russell said in Miracle, it's not about the best players. It's about the right ones.
An Unpleasant Encounter
A few days ago I was sitting at the Wimpy using my computer to plan a trip to Rustenburg (the easy trip, not the unmitigated disaster). There, I chatted with an elderly white couple. The gentleman seemed extremely helpful at first, telling me about a few scenic spots en route to Rustenburg. Then the discussion got weird. He mentioned a flea market where I could buy lots of "flat-nose" artwork. I really hoped this didn't mean what I thought it meant. Unfortunately this was confirmed when he was telling me about his lovely community where they don't allow any "flat-noses, coloreds, or Indians."
I guess it's not totally surprising. The country is less than 20 years removed from apartheid and you're going to run into ignorami who haven't yet adapted to the new order. Still, it seems horrifying that some people would be comfortable expressing these views to a complete stranger from another country. I mean, I had already mentioned I was from Seattle, the most PC city in the world.
Oh, the gentleman also let me know about his problems maintaining an erection and called his wife/girlfriend "thick as pig s***."
I guess it's not totally surprising. The country is less than 20 years removed from apartheid and you're going to run into ignorami who haven't yet adapted to the new order. Still, it seems horrifying that some people would be comfortable expressing these views to a complete stranger from another country. I mean, I had already mentioned I was from Seattle, the most PC city in the world.
Oh, the gentleman also let me know about his problems maintaining an erection and called his wife/girlfriend "thick as pig s***."
Fashion Faux Pas: Argentina
Dude, what is with the HIDEOUS light blue shirts / dark blue shorts that Argentina were wearing yesterday? Aren't white shorts traditional?
Then again, perhaps it's no surprise given that the team produced these hairstyles:
I mean, Demichelis (above, right) , you're already a horrible player. Let's not call unnecessary attention to yourself.
Then again, perhaps it's no surprise given that the team produced these hairstyles:
I mean, Demichelis (above, right) , you're already a horrible player. Let's not call unnecessary attention to yourself.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Who Needs Technology? We Have Referees!
My regular readers - all three of them - will know that I have been highly critical of the referees in the 2010 World Cup. Obviously the USA goals that were absurdly disallowed have been my main gripe, but you could point to any number of bad penalty decisions (in the USA's favor vs. Ghana), insane red cards (Cahill, Klose), and botched offside calls (2 Higuain goals vs. South Korea).
Today really took the cake though. First, there was the England pseudo-equalizer from Frank Lampard that was a good yard over the line but was not given. Everyone, from Capello to the commentator to me could see it was over the line. There's no doubt that Germany totally outclassed England, but the difference between 2-1 and 2-2 is night and day. If the goal is given then it really demoralizes the Germans, having pissed away the lead so quickly. Instead, England are left bewildered and infuriated and still a goal behind, which is always going to leave them vulnerable to a third (and fourth). Germany deserved the win, but in football, as Clint Eastwood said in Unforgiven, "Deserve's got nothing to do with it."
If you think that this glaring error would serve as a warning to the linesman in the later match between Argentina and Mexico, you obviously lack the sheer self-righteous arrogance necessary to be a FIFA referee. Carlos Tevez score his first goal from an absurdly offside position. For those not familiar with the offside law, at the time the ball is passed to the scorer, there must be two defenders (one usually being the keeper) between the goal and the scorer. Tevez was so offside that there were ZERO defenders between him and the goal. It was a laughably bad decision. Again, Argentina were much better than Mexico, but at 0-0 anything can happen, and the Mexicans completely lost their composure after being robbed.
I understand the objections to video and/or goal-line technology. It slows down the pace of the game and can't be applied evenly throughout all levels of professional football. If FIFA is dead-set against it though, then they need to institute harsh measures to punish referees who fail. In this way, we can either weed out the bad referees, or we'll force them to agree that technological help is the only way to save their jobs.
Today really took the cake though. First, there was the England pseudo-equalizer from Frank Lampard that was a good yard over the line but was not given. Everyone, from Capello to the commentator to me could see it was over the line. There's no doubt that Germany totally outclassed England, but the difference between 2-1 and 2-2 is night and day. If the goal is given then it really demoralizes the Germans, having pissed away the lead so quickly. Instead, England are left bewildered and infuriated and still a goal behind, which is always going to leave them vulnerable to a third (and fourth). Germany deserved the win, but in football, as Clint Eastwood said in Unforgiven, "Deserve's got nothing to do with it."
If you think that this glaring error would serve as a warning to the linesman in the later match between Argentina and Mexico, you obviously lack the sheer self-righteous arrogance necessary to be a FIFA referee. Carlos Tevez score his first goal from an absurdly offside position. For those not familiar with the offside law, at the time the ball is passed to the scorer, there must be two defenders (one usually being the keeper) between the goal and the scorer. Tevez was so offside that there were ZERO defenders between him and the goal. It was a laughably bad decision. Again, Argentina were much better than Mexico, but at 0-0 anything can happen, and the Mexicans completely lost their composure after being robbed.
I understand the objections to video and/or goal-line technology. It slows down the pace of the game and can't be applied evenly throughout all levels of professional football. If FIFA is dead-set against it though, then they need to institute harsh measures to punish referees who fail. In this way, we can either weed out the bad referees, or we'll force them to agree that technological help is the only way to save their jobs.
USA 1-2 Ghana . . . Too Familiar
Surely one of the most important skills as a coach is the ability to learn from your mistakes. You're not always going to pick the right players or say the right things, but figuring out what you did wrong and correcting it for the next match is crucial. Bob Bradley didn't do that in this World Cup, and that's why the USA is out.
In two of our group games, we conceded goals within the first 10 minutes. Against Ghana, we did it again. Now we managed to come back against England and Slovenia, and did it against against Ghana. That can only go on for so long, and when it happened again 3 minutes after the start of extra time, our luck had finally run out. Bradley should have worked with the team on keeping focus in the opening minutes, and on really marking tightly and playing defense until the game had settled down.
Secondly, Bradley continued to field the wrong players in his starting lineup over and over again. Robbie Findley had only a half-dozen caps before the tournament and consistently revealed himself to be outclassed in the World Cup. Yet he started 3 games, only to be subbed in all of them. Ricardo Clark and Jose Torres started ahead of Maurice Edu, even though Edu was very good when he came on. Guys like Edson Buddle or Stuart Holden (I'm biased towards him, of course) might have done a job but never got a fair chance. So you're looking at two substitutions that needed to be used every game, and that really limits your options when you're chasing a game, which as I said before, we were doing constantly. After Ghana went ahead in extra time, we couldn't do something drastic like putting Onyewu in as an emergency center forward because all three changes had already been made (two of them before halftime).
Not all the blame can be laid at Bradley's feet. Jozy Altidore, once the "Next Big Thing" after Freddy Adu and Eddie Johnson, was totally ineffective. Donovan scored some key goals but was never very impressive. The defense was ATROCIOUS. Bocanegra, Onyewu, and DeMerit are just far too slow to be paired with one another. Indeed, DeMerit almost went blind recently (true story) and was released by undistinguished Watford so one wonders why he started all of our games. Steve Cherundolo, usually so reliable at right back, looks past it. Only Bornstein really acquitted himself well, though once again, Bradley only played him in the third and fourth games.
In truth we were perhaps lucky to get to extra time, as the penalty was a bad call. The defender got the ball. It was about time we got some luck in this tournament, but it wasn't enough. It's all eerily reminiscent of the 2006 World Cup. Hope crushed in the onslaught of a blunt attack and terrible decisions in defense (remember Eddie Lewis?). We did take the initiative when were behind but our players were just too limited to get much done, and Bradley's management did nothing to compensate for this. It's probably time for him to go. 2014 will be Last Chance Saloon for the likes of Dempsey, Donovan, Beasley, Howard and Onyewu. Hmm . . . I wonder who we could get in who has experience working with big players, organizing defenses, and getting the most out of willing but limited personnel.
Big Sam Allardyce for the USA?
In two of our group games, we conceded goals within the first 10 minutes. Against Ghana, we did it again. Now we managed to come back against England and Slovenia, and did it against against Ghana. That can only go on for so long, and when it happened again 3 minutes after the start of extra time, our luck had finally run out. Bradley should have worked with the team on keeping focus in the opening minutes, and on really marking tightly and playing defense until the game had settled down.
Secondly, Bradley continued to field the wrong players in his starting lineup over and over again. Robbie Findley had only a half-dozen caps before the tournament and consistently revealed himself to be outclassed in the World Cup. Yet he started 3 games, only to be subbed in all of them. Ricardo Clark and Jose Torres started ahead of Maurice Edu, even though Edu was very good when he came on. Guys like Edson Buddle or Stuart Holden (I'm biased towards him, of course) might have done a job but never got a fair chance. So you're looking at two substitutions that needed to be used every game, and that really limits your options when you're chasing a game, which as I said before, we were doing constantly. After Ghana went ahead in extra time, we couldn't do something drastic like putting Onyewu in as an emergency center forward because all three changes had already been made (two of them before halftime).
Not all the blame can be laid at Bradley's feet. Jozy Altidore, once the "Next Big Thing" after Freddy Adu and Eddie Johnson, was totally ineffective. Donovan scored some key goals but was never very impressive. The defense was ATROCIOUS. Bocanegra, Onyewu, and DeMerit are just far too slow to be paired with one another. Indeed, DeMerit almost went blind recently (true story) and was released by undistinguished Watford so one wonders why he started all of our games. Steve Cherundolo, usually so reliable at right back, looks past it. Only Bornstein really acquitted himself well, though once again, Bradley only played him in the third and fourth games.
In truth we were perhaps lucky to get to extra time, as the penalty was a bad call. The defender got the ball. It was about time we got some luck in this tournament, but it wasn't enough. It's all eerily reminiscent of the 2006 World Cup. Hope crushed in the onslaught of a blunt attack and terrible decisions in defense (remember Eddie Lewis?). We did take the initiative when were behind but our players were just too limited to get much done, and Bradley's management did nothing to compensate for this. It's probably time for him to go. 2014 will be Last Chance Saloon for the likes of Dempsey, Donovan, Beasley, Howard and Onyewu. Hmm . . . I wonder who we could get in who has experience working with big players, organizing defenses, and getting the most out of willing but limited personnel.
Big Sam Allardyce for the USA?
June 26, 2010: A Date Which Will Live In Idiocy
You may recall from my blog about the Denmark/Japan game that Rustenburg is a bit out of the way. You may also recall that people I had talked to had bad experiences trying to get there. Finally, you may recall that my experience wasn't that bad. With that in mind, I decided to head back to Rustenburg for the USA vs. Ghana Round of 16 game. My experience was anything but pleasant.
The trip itself started as before, with a couple of hostel mates and I catching the bus outside the Sandton train station. The bus was far more crowded this time, perhaps reflecting increased interest in this match. Unlike last time, we did make a stop, which was OK as I needed a water. Then the trouble started. We got held up at a toll road because the driver's toll card had expired, and apparently he didn't have the $5 necessary to pay the toll. Some frustrated Australian bloke threw him some money, to the cheers of the crowd.
Next, we proceeded to circle around looking for the proper parking lot, with the driver getting lost several times. This was confusing; after all the previous trip had gone off without a hitch. A few guys had taken this bus three times and said that every time they went a different route. That the company wouldn't have determined the best route and communicated this to the drivers blew my organized American mind. As a result of all this we arrived about 50 minutes before the game, which was just about enough time to get through security and take my seat but not enough time to get food or a beer.
The driver wasn't the only complete idiot involved. For some reason the South African authorities think that it's OK to have 2-lane roads leading into and out of a 44,000 seat stadium. This obviously led to massive gridlock for hours at a time all the way back to Jo'burg. An embarrassing sign I photographed outside the Royal Bafokeng Stadium sums up the planning efforts that went into this venue:
At about 3 AM we stopped outside a gas station for a bathroom break. I grabbed a couple of snacks and headed back to the bus within 10 minutes, as per the driver's instructions. After checking to confirm that everyone was there, we drove off. Five minutes later, a guy in the back informed us that his "brother" was still back at the gas station, which unleashed a torrent of abuse from the driver and the passengers in general. We turned around and picked up the loafer, who was unapologetic and immediately defensive in the face of repeated name calling, such as "moron" and "retard." I was tired but I couldn't stop laughing as the tardy gentleman barracked the passengers. "Shut up! F***ing s***! You think you pay for me?!?!"
We didn't get back to Sandton until about 4:30, and thus I got to bed at 5 AM. It was a sad indictment of the state of affairs at the 2010 World Cup.
Oh, and I didn't even mention Bob Bradley's idiocy in the game itself . . . more on that later.
The trip itself started as before, with a couple of hostel mates and I catching the bus outside the Sandton train station. The bus was far more crowded this time, perhaps reflecting increased interest in this match. Unlike last time, we did make a stop, which was OK as I needed a water. Then the trouble started. We got held up at a toll road because the driver's toll card had expired, and apparently he didn't have the $5 necessary to pay the toll. Some frustrated Australian bloke threw him some money, to the cheers of the crowd.
Next, we proceeded to circle around looking for the proper parking lot, with the driver getting lost several times. This was confusing; after all the previous trip had gone off without a hitch. A few guys had taken this bus three times and said that every time they went a different route. That the company wouldn't have determined the best route and communicated this to the drivers blew my organized American mind. As a result of all this we arrived about 50 minutes before the game, which was just about enough time to get through security and take my seat but not enough time to get food or a beer.
The driver wasn't the only complete idiot involved. For some reason the South African authorities think that it's OK to have 2-lane roads leading into and out of a 44,000 seat stadium. This obviously led to massive gridlock for hours at a time all the way back to Jo'burg. An embarrassing sign I photographed outside the Royal Bafokeng Stadium sums up the planning efforts that went into this venue:
At about 3 AM we stopped outside a gas station for a bathroom break. I grabbed a couple of snacks and headed back to the bus within 10 minutes, as per the driver's instructions. After checking to confirm that everyone was there, we drove off. Five minutes later, a guy in the back informed us that his "brother" was still back at the gas station, which unleashed a torrent of abuse from the driver and the passengers in general. We turned around and picked up the loafer, who was unapologetic and immediately defensive in the face of repeated name calling, such as "moron" and "retard." I was tired but I couldn't stop laughing as the tardy gentleman barracked the passengers. "Shut up! F***ing s***! You think you pay for me?!?!"
We didn't get back to Sandton until about 4:30, and thus I got to bed at 5 AM. It was a sad indictment of the state of affairs at the 2010 World Cup.
Oh, and I didn't even mention Bob Bradley's idiocy in the game itself . . . more on that later.
Thanks A Lot, Denmark
As you may recall, I bought the Denmark "team series ticket." Basically, if Denmark moved on to the semi-finals, I would watch all of their games up to that point. If they lose, I watch the group winner or whoever knocked them out. Well, Denmark's miserable capitulation to Japan means that I will now be following Holland. If Denmark had beaten Japan, my games would be in Pretoria, Johannesburg, and Durban. Instead, my games are in Durban, Port Elizabeth, and Cape Town, all of which require air transportation. I want to sell my ticket for the game in Durban tomorrow, but even getting to the ticketing center and back would cost more than half of the value of the ticket in taxi rides. Oh well. Craig's List, don't fail me now.
The upshot is that the Port Elizabeth match is potentially Brazil vs. Holland, which I must admit is a pretty good match.
The upshot is that the Port Elizabeth match is potentially Brazil vs. Holland, which I must admit is a pretty good match.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Africa Expects (But Disappoints)
Pele once predicted that an African country would win the World Cup before the end of the 20th century. Obviously, he's a better footballer than prognosticator. However, there was still talk that African teams should do well in 2010 given the "home field advantage." Instead, their performance was abject. With six African teams and eighteen matches, there were only three wins for Africa: Ghana against Serbia courtesy of a penalty, South Africa over a disintegrating 10-man France, and Ivory Coast over whipping boys DPRK. Ghana was the only team to move on to the round of 16, and that was only with four points and two goals - both penalties. Algeria, Nigeria, and Cameroon went out without a victory. Cameroon, supposedly in the middle of a "golden generation," didn't get a point; the only other team to match this dubious achievement was North Korea. New Zealand performed better than half of the African contingent.
What happened? There are a few different things to look at, apart from endemic problems like poverty, malnutrition, and HIV that reduce the talent pool in the first place.
South Africa, for all their passion, didn't get to the tournament on merit. We know this because they actually participated in World Cup qualifying despite being the hosts; these qualifiers doubled as qualifiers for the 2010 African Nations Cup. South Africa didn't make it. Only DPRK are ranked lower than them in the (admittedly haphazard) FIFA rankings. The same might be said of Algeria, who required a playoff in Sudan to get past African Champions Egypt.
In the case of Cameroon, Nigeria, and Ivory Coast, you're looking at the age-old problem of poor decisions by African football federations. Togo just about refused to play in the 2006 World Cup over unpaid bonuses. Other examples are highlighted in this Sports Illustrated article. Similarly, Ivory Coast and Nigeria both sacked their managers only a few months before the tournament, bringing in Sven Goran-Eriksson and Lars Lagerback, respectively. While these two Swedes are experienced in international football, they didn't have enough time to work with the teams. Lagerback took over at the end of February and Eriksson only took over at the end of March. Some will point to the fact that Ivory Coast were drawn in the "group of death" with Portugal and Brazil but Portugal were there for the taking in the opening match. Cameroon manager Paul Le Guen made some bizarre decisions. He may have won Ligue 1 with Lyon, but so did other lesser lights like Gerrard Houllier and Alain Perrin. Since then Le Guen has failed at Rangers and Paris St. Germain. He was probably a poor appointment.
One thing to look at is a typical flaw in the African game: goalkeeping. Check out where the keepers play their club football:
Algeria: Gaouaoui (ASO Chlef, ALG), Chaouchi (ES Setif , ALG), M'Bolhi (Slavia Sofia - BUL)
Cameroon: Kameni (Espanyol - ESP), Hamidou (Kayserispor - TRK), Assembe (Valenciennes - FRA)
Cote D'Ivoire: Barry (Lokeren - BEL), Zogbo (Maccabi Netanya - ISR), Yeboah (AESC Mimosas - CIV)
Ghana: Adjei (Liberty Professionals - GHA), Ahorlu (Heart of Lions - GHA), Kingson (Wigan - ENG)
Nigeria: Enyeama (Hapoel Tel Aviv - ISR), Ejide (Hapoel Petah Tikva - ISR), Aiyenugba (Bnei Yehuda - ISR)
South Africa: Josephs (Orlando Pirates - RSA), Khune (Kaizer Chiefs - RSA), Walters (Maritzburg United - RSA)
In other words, only Cameroon can call upon keepers from top leagues. Kingson of Ghana plays for Wigan, but he's not first choice and Wigan aren't good anyway. This talent shortage is probably down to poor coaching, as this article points out. A lot of Africa's football is played in small makeshift pitches with shirts for goals. I suspect you don't get a lot of kids playing keeper, which becomes a vicious circle. Without top-class keepers, you don't get kids in the next generation aspiring to be keepers. You also don't end up with good coaches when your keepers retire.
It's all a bit disappointing as this will likely impact attendance and atmosphere. Furthermore, it casts serious doubt on FIFA's decision to include six African teams, more than any other region except Europe. Some good teams like Ireland, Russia, Turkey, Asian champions Iraq, and Ecuador (shout out to Courtney!) missed out so we could watch Algeria play some of the most negative, boring football of the tournament? Hardly seems fair.
What happened? There are a few different things to look at, apart from endemic problems like poverty, malnutrition, and HIV that reduce the talent pool in the first place.
South Africa, for all their passion, didn't get to the tournament on merit. We know this because they actually participated in World Cup qualifying despite being the hosts; these qualifiers doubled as qualifiers for the 2010 African Nations Cup. South Africa didn't make it. Only DPRK are ranked lower than them in the (admittedly haphazard) FIFA rankings. The same might be said of Algeria, who required a playoff in Sudan to get past African Champions Egypt.
In the case of Cameroon, Nigeria, and Ivory Coast, you're looking at the age-old problem of poor decisions by African football federations. Togo just about refused to play in the 2006 World Cup over unpaid bonuses. Other examples are highlighted in this Sports Illustrated article. Similarly, Ivory Coast and Nigeria both sacked their managers only a few months before the tournament, bringing in Sven Goran-Eriksson and Lars Lagerback, respectively. While these two Swedes are experienced in international football, they didn't have enough time to work with the teams. Lagerback took over at the end of February and Eriksson only took over at the end of March. Some will point to the fact that Ivory Coast were drawn in the "group of death" with Portugal and Brazil but Portugal were there for the taking in the opening match. Cameroon manager Paul Le Guen made some bizarre decisions. He may have won Ligue 1 with Lyon, but so did other lesser lights like Gerrard Houllier and Alain Perrin. Since then Le Guen has failed at Rangers and Paris St. Germain. He was probably a poor appointment.
One thing to look at is a typical flaw in the African game: goalkeeping. Check out where the keepers play their club football:
Algeria: Gaouaoui (ASO Chlef, ALG), Chaouchi (ES Setif , ALG), M'Bolhi (Slavia Sofia - BUL)
Cameroon: Kameni (Espanyol - ESP), Hamidou (Kayserispor - TRK), Assembe (Valenciennes - FRA)
Cote D'Ivoire: Barry (Lokeren - BEL), Zogbo (Maccabi Netanya - ISR), Yeboah (AESC Mimosas - CIV)
Ghana: Adjei (Liberty Professionals - GHA), Ahorlu (Heart of Lions - GHA), Kingson (Wigan - ENG)
Nigeria: Enyeama (Hapoel Tel Aviv - ISR), Ejide (Hapoel Petah Tikva - ISR), Aiyenugba (Bnei Yehuda - ISR)
South Africa: Josephs (Orlando Pirates - RSA), Khune (Kaizer Chiefs - RSA), Walters (Maritzburg United - RSA)
In other words, only Cameroon can call upon keepers from top leagues. Kingson of Ghana plays for Wigan, but he's not first choice and Wigan aren't good anyway. This talent shortage is probably down to poor coaching, as this article points out. A lot of Africa's football is played in small makeshift pitches with shirts for goals. I suspect you don't get a lot of kids playing keeper, which becomes a vicious circle. Without top-class keepers, you don't get kids in the next generation aspiring to be keepers. You also don't end up with good coaches when your keepers retire.
It's all a bit disappointing as this will likely impact attendance and atmosphere. Furthermore, it casts serious doubt on FIFA's decision to include six African teams, more than any other region except Europe. Some good teams like Ireland, Russia, Turkey, Asian champions Iraq, and Ecuador (shout out to Courtney!) missed out so we could watch Algeria play some of the most negative, boring football of the tournament? Hardly seems fair.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Forza Shitalia
Italy are OUT, following a stunning 3-2 defeat by Slovakia. According to the BBC, this is the first time that both defending finalists have been eliminated from the tournament at the group stages.
There are similarities between the early exits of France and Italy, though I doubt that Lippi uses astrology to pick his team. The obvious parallel is a reliance on aging players. In the case of Italy though, this isn't the whole story. Sure, there are tons of over 30 players - Cannavaro (36), Gattuso (32), Iaquinta (30), Di Natale (32), Camoranesi (33), Zambrotta (33), and Pirlo (31). But what was missing was some sort of creative force. Not Totti, as he's also 33 and injury prone. Where is Cassano? He has attitude problems - it's hard to think of a more difficult player in world football - but he's a clever and unpredictable player and he's what Italy need.
Essentially Lippi decided against taking any risks, and paid the price.
There are similarities between the early exits of France and Italy, though I doubt that Lippi uses astrology to pick his team. The obvious parallel is a reliance on aging players. In the case of Italy though, this isn't the whole story. Sure, there are tons of over 30 players - Cannavaro (36), Gattuso (32), Iaquinta (30), Di Natale (32), Camoranesi (33), Zambrotta (33), and Pirlo (31). But what was missing was some sort of creative force. Not Totti, as he's also 33 and injury prone. Where is Cassano? He has attitude problems - it's hard to think of a more difficult player in world football - but he's a clever and unpredictable player and he's what Italy need.
Essentially Lippi decided against taking any risks, and paid the price.
Farvel, Danmark
I almost didn't go to the Denmark vs. Japan game. It was in Rustenburg, which is around 3 hours outside of Jo'burg. Mind you, I don't have a car. However, with a bit of help I was able to find information about a bus that was heading out there and so I bit the bullet. Between the bus and taxis to and from Sandton train station, I think transportation was about as much as my ticket. Still, Denmark needed to win to progress so I thought it was important that I go.
On the plus side, on the bus I finally met a Danish bloke who was willing to practice Danish with me. At times it was slow going - my vocabulary has diminished over the years - but on the whole it went really well and I was grateful.
Getting to the stadium was straightforward. I had heard horror stories about Rustenburg, such as getting stuck in dire traffic and barely making the kickoff, but this was smooth sailing. Once I found my seat, I started to regret getting the lower-level tickets. The prices for South African specific tickets are so low - about USD 18 - that you get a lot of people who don't care about the game and just want to wail on the vuvuzela all game long. Some jackass was consistently blowing one right in the ear of a few Japanese ladies right in front of me.
In short, the game sucked. Denmark played well on the whole and seemed to dominate possession, but they conceded two free kicks early in the match and there was simply no way back. Sorensen arguably should have done better with the first one but the second was a thing of beauty. So much for the complaints about the Jabulani ball.
To Denmark's credit, they played hard until the very end and never gave up. Even when Japan went 3-1 up on the break they continued to press forward, at one point playing with 4 forwards - Tomasson, Bendtner, Larsen, and center-back Agger. Despite the presence of 3 towering players, they really didn't hoof the ball enough, playing too many time-wasting passes out of the back. Also, I don't think Bendtner will ever be Arsenal class. He's decent enough with his feet I suppose, but for a guy who is 6'4" he is really poor in the air. He was consistently beaten by the Japanese defenders.
If there was a silver lining, it's that Jon Dahl Tomasson FINALLY tied the Danish scoring record, notching his 52nd international goal after he tapped in the rebound from his own awful penalty. I suppose this leaves him with a conundrum - at 33, does he continue to play for Denmark and attempt to break the record? Or does he acknowledge that Euro 2012 will be a bridge too far for him? Despite his age, he still worked hard for 90 minutes and there doesn't seem to a whole lot of striking talent lining up to replace him. Indeed, many key players are getting old, and Morten Olsen has a lot to think about . . .
On the plus side, on the bus I finally met a Danish bloke who was willing to practice Danish with me. At times it was slow going - my vocabulary has diminished over the years - but on the whole it went really well and I was grateful.
Getting to the stadium was straightforward. I had heard horror stories about Rustenburg, such as getting stuck in dire traffic and barely making the kickoff, but this was smooth sailing. Once I found my seat, I started to regret getting the lower-level tickets. The prices for South African specific tickets are so low - about USD 18 - that you get a lot of people who don't care about the game and just want to wail on the vuvuzela all game long. Some jackass was consistently blowing one right in the ear of a few Japanese ladies right in front of me.
In short, the game sucked. Denmark played well on the whole and seemed to dominate possession, but they conceded two free kicks early in the match and there was simply no way back. Sorensen arguably should have done better with the first one but the second was a thing of beauty. So much for the complaints about the Jabulani ball.
To Denmark's credit, they played hard until the very end and never gave up. Even when Japan went 3-1 up on the break they continued to press forward, at one point playing with 4 forwards - Tomasson, Bendtner, Larsen, and center-back Agger. Despite the presence of 3 towering players, they really didn't hoof the ball enough, playing too many time-wasting passes out of the back. Also, I don't think Bendtner will ever be Arsenal class. He's decent enough with his feet I suppose, but for a guy who is 6'4" he is really poor in the air. He was consistently beaten by the Japanese defenders.
If there was a silver lining, it's that Jon Dahl Tomasson FINALLY tied the Danish scoring record, notching his 52nd international goal after he tapped in the rebound from his own awful penalty. I suppose this leaves him with a conundrum - at 33, does he continue to play for Denmark and attempt to break the record? Or does he acknowledge that Euro 2012 will be a bridge too far for him? Despite his age, he still worked hard for 90 minutes and there doesn't seem to a whole lot of striking talent lining up to replace him. Indeed, many key players are getting old, and Morten Olsen has a lot to think about . . .
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Do You Believe In Miracles?
When you support mediocre teams like Bolton Wanderers, Daejeon Citizen, or the United States, there are very few moments of genuine joy. They aren't going to win major titles, and celebrating the Gold Cup or UEFA Cup qualification isn't the same as lifting the Champions League trophy or the World Cup. Sometimes the joy you get comes from heroic upsets: good examples include the USA's victory over Spain in the Confederations Cup, or Bolton's 1-0 win over Manchester United in 2007, or Daejeon's 2-1 victory over the hated Seongnam.
The happiest moment I've had as a football fan was more the result of something that DIDN'T happen, rather than something that did. Back in the 07-08 season it seemed certain that Bolton would get relegated. Instead, we went on a tremendous run of form in the last five games, and a win over Sunderland made us all but safe. As our second goal went in - an 80th minute own goal from a Sunderland defender - I literally cried tears of happiness. Brenda was justifiably confused ("You realize you're celebrating 16th place?") but that is the lot of the supporter of a mediocre team. You take your kicks where you can get them.
As long as I live, I don't know that anything will match the feeling I had in the game between the USA and Algeria. In the 90th minute, I was depressed and furious. Just like in 2006, the referees seemed to have ended our chance of moving out of the group. There was the inexplicably disallowed goal against Slovenia, which brought unanimous condemnation from pundits and action from FIFA against the referee in question. Again, in the Algeria game, a perfectly good goal from Dempsey was disallowed. I would like a statistician to calculate the chance that a team will have good goals wrongly disallowed in two consecutive games.
The referees weren't entirely to blame. The USA was playing badly, despite dominating possession. Donovan was constantly cutting back instead of using his pace to go forward. Cherundolo, who I usually consider one of the most underrated players in the world, was bad defensively. Altidore blazed over shockingly when presented with an open goal, and Dempsey was guilty of a miss that wasn't much better. While we deserved to win - we put the ball in the net for God's sake - we simply weren't very good.
All that changed in injury time. After a rare Algerian attack, the USA broke with 4 against 2. It seemed inevitable that we would score, but we almost cocked it up again. Altidore fed Dempsey whose shot was parried by the keeper . . . straight to Donovan, who scored the latest of winners. The players piled on top of each other. The crowd went nuts. Beer was sprayed. Strangers high-fives and hugged. People celebrated so vociferously that they fell down several rows of seats (but were OK).
I have to say, Algeria and their fans behaved in a repugnant fashion. Before the game I was impressed by a colorful parade of Algerians atop their cars, waving and wishing us good luck. After the winner, their fans disappointed me by throwing things onto the field. Look, if we didn't do it after the Edu non-goal incident, they had no right to do it. Also, friends who watched the game on TV said Algeria's players behaved like animals, punching and elbowing the USA frequently. A player was sent off after the goal. Now, Algerian player Rafik Saifi is accused of slapping a female journalist.
Apart from that, their general approach to the game was embarrassing. A draw wouldn't have been enough to see them through to the next round. They needed to win, but they showed almost zero attacking intent. It was like stifling the "Great Satan" and keeping us from moving on was more important than taking risks and trying to move on themselves. They deserved nothing from the game, except possibly a ban for their fans.
But it's not right to end this on a negative note. The good feelings lasted for hours after the match. "USA" chants rang out outside the stadium. Flags were waved vigorously. South Africans congratulated us all along our walk to the train station. We were SECONDS away from being eliminated. Instead, not only did we qualify, but we finished top of the group! Ahead of England! Despite getting screwed by the referees on two separate occasions! To go from the depths of football depression to the heights of football joy in just a few seconds . . . you just don't get that every day.
Bring on Ghana! It's time for revenge.
The happiest moment I've had as a football fan was more the result of something that DIDN'T happen, rather than something that did. Back in the 07-08 season it seemed certain that Bolton would get relegated. Instead, we went on a tremendous run of form in the last five games, and a win over Sunderland made us all but safe. As our second goal went in - an 80th minute own goal from a Sunderland defender - I literally cried tears of happiness. Brenda was justifiably confused ("You realize you're celebrating 16th place?") but that is the lot of the supporter of a mediocre team. You take your kicks where you can get them.
As long as I live, I don't know that anything will match the feeling I had in the game between the USA and Algeria. In the 90th minute, I was depressed and furious. Just like in 2006, the referees seemed to have ended our chance of moving out of the group. There was the inexplicably disallowed goal against Slovenia, which brought unanimous condemnation from pundits and action from FIFA against the referee in question. Again, in the Algeria game, a perfectly good goal from Dempsey was disallowed. I would like a statistician to calculate the chance that a team will have good goals wrongly disallowed in two consecutive games.
The referees weren't entirely to blame. The USA was playing badly, despite dominating possession. Donovan was constantly cutting back instead of using his pace to go forward. Cherundolo, who I usually consider one of the most underrated players in the world, was bad defensively. Altidore blazed over shockingly when presented with an open goal, and Dempsey was guilty of a miss that wasn't much better. While we deserved to win - we put the ball in the net for God's sake - we simply weren't very good.
All that changed in injury time. After a rare Algerian attack, the USA broke with 4 against 2. It seemed inevitable that we would score, but we almost cocked it up again. Altidore fed Dempsey whose shot was parried by the keeper . . . straight to Donovan, who scored the latest of winners. The players piled on top of each other. The crowd went nuts. Beer was sprayed. Strangers high-fives and hugged. People celebrated so vociferously that they fell down several rows of seats (but were OK).
I have to say, Algeria and their fans behaved in a repugnant fashion. Before the game I was impressed by a colorful parade of Algerians atop their cars, waving and wishing us good luck. After the winner, their fans disappointed me by throwing things onto the field. Look, if we didn't do it after the Edu non-goal incident, they had no right to do it. Also, friends who watched the game on TV said Algeria's players behaved like animals, punching and elbowing the USA frequently. A player was sent off after the goal. Now, Algerian player Rafik Saifi is accused of slapping a female journalist.
Apart from that, their general approach to the game was embarrassing. A draw wouldn't have been enough to see them through to the next round. They needed to win, but they showed almost zero attacking intent. It was like stifling the "Great Satan" and keeping us from moving on was more important than taking risks and trying to move on themselves. They deserved nothing from the game, except possibly a ban for their fans.
But it's not right to end this on a negative note. The good feelings lasted for hours after the match. "USA" chants rang out outside the stadium. Flags were waved vigorously. South Africans congratulated us all along our walk to the train station. We were SECONDS away from being eliminated. Instead, not only did we qualify, but we finished top of the group! Ahead of England! Despite getting screwed by the referees on two separate occasions! To go from the depths of football depression to the heights of football joy in just a few seconds . . . you just don't get that every day.
Bring on Ghana! It's time for revenge.
Korea Move On (Despite Their Best Efforts)
Certain countries are known for a certain way of playing the Beautiful Game. Brazilian "Samba Soccer." Italian "Catenaccio." English "Kick and Rush." Dutch "Total Football."
To these, I suggest adding a new national style: Korean "Dicking Around."
This was a phenomenon I first noticed in Seattle when Good People played games against a largely Asian team. The two Korean forwards seemed talented at first, but many time they went for tricks and flicks when a simple pass or clearance would have done. This idea was confirmed in the six-a-side games we played against a Korean team in Daejeon. Rather than taking a first-time shot, they would often pass between each other three or four times in the box, allowing someone to block the shot. Sometimes it resulted in a goal, but usually in those situations a first-time shot would have worked too.
The phenomenon also reared its head in the game between Korea and Nigeria. Korea realistically only needed a draw to advance, since Greece were likely to lose to the mighty Argentina. The ROK didn't make it easy on themselves. Nigeria went ahead due to some terrible marking from the right back. Korea managed to take the lead thanks to a header from Lee Jung-soo and a great free-kick from Monaco forward Park Chu-yong (video of the free kick coming at some point in the future).
Still, there seemed to be an epidemic of "dicking around." Players wanted too many touches before shooting, and ended up losing the ball. Yakubu's inexplicable miss didn't seem to offer ample warning. Instead of just kicking the ball into row Z, Kim Nam-il decided to try to play it out of his own box. He then lost the ball and gave away a penalty trying to recover. Yakubu scored and it was time to worry. A win for Nigeria probably would have sent them through due to Korea's poor goal difference from the 4-1 defeat by Argentina.
In the end though, the win was fairly comfortable despite a couple of long range shots. Korea are through, and may meet the United States in the quarters if they can get past Uruguay. Let's hope they don't dick around in front of Diego Forlan.
To these, I suggest adding a new national style: Korean "Dicking Around."
This was a phenomenon I first noticed in Seattle when Good People played games against a largely Asian team. The two Korean forwards seemed talented at first, but many time they went for tricks and flicks when a simple pass or clearance would have done. This idea was confirmed in the six-a-side games we played against a Korean team in Daejeon. Rather than taking a first-time shot, they would often pass between each other three or four times in the box, allowing someone to block the shot. Sometimes it resulted in a goal, but usually in those situations a first-time shot would have worked too.
The phenomenon also reared its head in the game between Korea and Nigeria. Korea realistically only needed a draw to advance, since Greece were likely to lose to the mighty Argentina. The ROK didn't make it easy on themselves. Nigeria went ahead due to some terrible marking from the right back. Korea managed to take the lead thanks to a header from Lee Jung-soo and a great free-kick from Monaco forward Park Chu-yong (video of the free kick coming at some point in the future).
Still, there seemed to be an epidemic of "dicking around." Players wanted too many touches before shooting, and ended up losing the ball. Yakubu's inexplicable miss didn't seem to offer ample warning. Instead of just kicking the ball into row Z, Kim Nam-il decided to try to play it out of his own box. He then lost the ball and gave away a penalty trying to recover. Yakubu scored and it was time to worry. A win for Nigeria probably would have sent them through due to Korea's poor goal difference from the 4-1 defeat by Argentina.
In the end though, the win was fairly comfortable despite a couple of long range shots. Korea are through, and may meet the United States in the quarters if they can get past Uruguay. Let's hope they don't dick around in front of Diego Forlan.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Durban
Throughout my stay in South Africa, it's been either cold (Johannesburg/Pretoria) or rainy (Cape Town). Imagine my surprise, then, when I disembarked from the airport shuttle in Durban to find weather that was, comparatively, downright balmy. Thus my long underwear and long-sleeve shirt (plus Lee Chung-Yong jersey) were entirely inappropriate. The good news is that, on a whim, I decided to take my swimsuit with me. The bad news was that my hotel wouldn't let me check in until 2 PM, which was immensely frustrating. They did let me change in the bathroom and drop my luggage off though.
Now dressed appropriately, I looked for something to do. In my traveler's guide I saw an add for surfing lessons, and thought - surfing in the Indian Ocean? How cool is that? I booked an appointment but unfortunately heard back later that there wasn't enough wind for surfing. Oh well.
Instead, I played a few rounds of beach soccer. I'll just come out and say it: I suck at it. Not that I'm the best of footballers anyway, but playing beach soccer renders everything you know about the game meaningless. Without your boots, the ball rebounds off the different parts of your foot in strange ways. Your usual dribbles and tricks don't work properly in the sand. Even running doesn't feel quite right. I did score a back-heeled goal but other than that I was poor.
I was finally able to get into my hotel and I like it. It's not as luxurious as my Cape Town abode but the guest information book describes it as "French Art-Deco inspired" and I quite like art-deco. It makes me feel like I'm staying in a hotel Don Draper would have stayed in 45 years ago.
I ordered room service, which in this country is really no more expensive than a regular meal, and settled down to watch South Africa's slim hopes of progressing to the next round. It looked good when they scored two goals and Yoann Gourcouff - who was already unpopular with the French team - was sent off for an elbow. However, the French didn't do the decent (and French) thing and roll over and let Bafana Bafana score the four goals they needed to progress. No, Malouda had to score. It was rather disappointing, especially since Uruguay did their job by beating Mexico. It is a small consolation that I'll never have to hear Domenech's bizarre musings again. Presumably, after he started Djibril Cisse in a critical World Cup game, no team would be insane enough to appoint him.
To the credit of the South African fans (I guess), they did keep blowing the vuvuzelas until the end. They obviously expected this, as seconds after the game the channel was airing consolation ads for the team and advising South Africans to continue to impress their guests.
After that it was time for the South Korea game - more on that to come!
Now dressed appropriately, I looked for something to do. In my traveler's guide I saw an add for surfing lessons, and thought - surfing in the Indian Ocean? How cool is that? I booked an appointment but unfortunately heard back later that there wasn't enough wind for surfing. Oh well.
Instead, I played a few rounds of beach soccer. I'll just come out and say it: I suck at it. Not that I'm the best of footballers anyway, but playing beach soccer renders everything you know about the game meaningless. Without your boots, the ball rebounds off the different parts of your foot in strange ways. Your usual dribbles and tricks don't work properly in the sand. Even running doesn't feel quite right. I did score a back-heeled goal but other than that I was poor.
I was finally able to get into my hotel and I like it. It's not as luxurious as my Cape Town abode but the guest information book describes it as "French Art-Deco inspired" and I quite like art-deco. It makes me feel like I'm staying in a hotel Don Draper would have stayed in 45 years ago.
I ordered room service, which in this country is really no more expensive than a regular meal, and settled down to watch South Africa's slim hopes of progressing to the next round. It looked good when they scored two goals and Yoann Gourcouff - who was already unpopular with the French team - was sent off for an elbow. However, the French didn't do the decent (and French) thing and roll over and let Bafana Bafana score the four goals they needed to progress. No, Malouda had to score. It was rather disappointing, especially since Uruguay did their job by beating Mexico. It is a small consolation that I'll never have to hear Domenech's bizarre musings again. Presumably, after he started Djibril Cisse in a critical World Cup game, no team would be insane enough to appoint him.
To the credit of the South African fans (I guess), they did keep blowing the vuvuzelas until the end. They obviously expected this, as seconds after the game the channel was airing consolation ads for the team and advising South Africans to continue to impress their guests.
After that it was time for the South Korea game - more on that to come!
Monday, June 21, 2010
1966 Revisited
There are times when I think that football put too much emphasis on past matches. Every Premier League match starts with a summary of results between the two previous teams. This is pointless; consider than in 1994-5, Blackburn won the league and Chelsea finished 11th. We're obviously talking about a very different era now.
In the World Cup, it can get even more ridiculous. Before the match between USA and England, some pointed out that England had never beaten the USA in the World Cup. This ignores several key points:
1) The USA and England had only played one World Cup game.
2) That game was in 1950.
3) All of the 22 players who played in that game have retired.
4) 14 of the 22 players are dead.
That said, there are still match-ups that recall famous encounters from the past. Any future USA vs. Iran match will be viewed as potential revenge for the 1998 World Cup. Germany vs. England matches have that special "two World Wars and one World Cup" vibe. Today we're going to examine a famous match from the 1966 World Cup. North Korea were then, as now, total unknowns. Miraculously, they bested Italy 1-0 to set up a match with Portugal. The match went to 3-0 . . . to North Korea. Then, Portugal came back to win 5-3, thanks in part to a hat-trick from the great Eusebio (who isn't Portugese really, but never mind that).
In the wake of that famous match, and in the wake of Portugal's weak showing against Cote D'Ivoire and DPRK's strong showing against Brazil, I was hoping that I would witness another enthralling match. I did, though not due to any miracles from DPRK. In fairness, in the first half they put up a spirited resistance, and at half time Portugal only led by one goal from Raul Meireles.
After half time the floodgates just opened. I made a note of Portugal's strong start and after 8 minutes they doubled their lead through Simao. Then, only North Korea can tell you what happened. They proceeded to give up five more goals, including one to Liedson who, like Eusebio (who was present) isn't actually from Portugal. I hate to engage in idle speculation, but one hopes that they weren't given something akin to the "0-3 or Exile" ultimatum reportedly given to Zaire's players in the 1974 World Cup. That would explain the abject capitulation if they already knew punishment awaited them.
Ironically, this was apparently the first time a North Korea game played abroad was broadcast live in the DPRK:
N. Korean state TV airs team's 7-0 loss to Portugal
In the World Cup, it can get even more ridiculous. Before the match between USA and England, some pointed out that England had never beaten the USA in the World Cup. This ignores several key points:
1) The USA and England had only played one World Cup game.
2) That game was in 1950.
3) All of the 22 players who played in that game have retired.
4) 14 of the 22 players are dead.
That said, there are still match-ups that recall famous encounters from the past. Any future USA vs. Iran match will be viewed as potential revenge for the 1998 World Cup. Germany vs. England matches have that special "two World Wars and one World Cup" vibe. Today we're going to examine a famous match from the 1966 World Cup. North Korea were then, as now, total unknowns. Miraculously, they bested Italy 1-0 to set up a match with Portugal. The match went to 3-0 . . . to North Korea. Then, Portugal came back to win 5-3, thanks in part to a hat-trick from the great Eusebio (who isn't Portugese really, but never mind that).
In the wake of that famous match, and in the wake of Portugal's weak showing against Cote D'Ivoire and DPRK's strong showing against Brazil, I was hoping that I would witness another enthralling match. I did, though not due to any miracles from DPRK. In fairness, in the first half they put up a spirited resistance, and at half time Portugal only led by one goal from Raul Meireles.
After half time the floodgates just opened. I made a note of Portugal's strong start and after 8 minutes they doubled their lead through Simao. Then, only North Korea can tell you what happened. They proceeded to give up five more goals, including one to Liedson who, like Eusebio (who was present) isn't actually from Portugal. I hate to engage in idle speculation, but one hopes that they weren't given something akin to the "0-3 or Exile" ultimatum reportedly given to Zaire's players in the 1974 World Cup. That would explain the abject capitulation if they already knew punishment awaited them.
Ironically, this was apparently the first time a North Korea game played abroad was broadcast live in the DPRK:
N. Korean state TV airs team's 7-0 loss to Portugal
I Won't Be Doing Squat In Cape Town
I've arrived in Cape Town for the Portugal vs. North Ko . . . sorry, DPRK game. Let me assure you that going to the game is all I will be doing, for several reasons.
1. I'm knackered. I woke up at 3:15 this morning as my flight from Jo'Burg was at 6 AM. I probably got to the airport far earlier than I needed to, but you can never be too careful.
2. It's pouring. The weather at the airport was nice and the sunrise was gorgeous, but I could see an ugly cloud looming ominously over Table Mountain and indeed, it's raining rather heavily. Not Korean monsoon heavy, but heavy enough that I'll be taking the hotel's shuttle to the game, despite the fact that I specifically booked a hotel close to the stadium.
3. My hotel is really nice. I ended up booking a 5-star hotel because it was close to the stadium and surprisingly cheap.
4. I'm doing it all over again tomorrow. A 6 AM flight to Durban. Yikes.
1. I'm knackered. I woke up at 3:15 this morning as my flight from Jo'Burg was at 6 AM. I probably got to the airport far earlier than I needed to, but you can never be too careful.
2. It's pouring. The weather at the airport was nice and the sunrise was gorgeous, but I could see an ugly cloud looming ominously over Table Mountain and indeed, it's raining rather heavily. Not Korean monsoon heavy, but heavy enough that I'll be taking the hotel's shuttle to the game, despite the fact that I specifically booked a hotel close to the stadium.
3. My hotel is really nice. I ended up booking a 5-star hotel because it was close to the stadium and surprisingly cheap.
4. I'm doing it all over again tomorrow. A 6 AM flight to Durban. Yikes.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Return of Le Sulk
When Nicolas Anelka signed for Bolton, fans were blown away, but still cautious. Sure, he's undeniably a world-class talent. He'd also been through more clubs than Max Fischer from Rushmore. He had earned the nickname "Le Sulk" for his negative attitude; the very fact that he had fallen from the likes of Arsenal and Real Madrid to Manchester City (pre-Arabs), Fenerbache, the Wanderers, and even Liverpool strongly suggested that something was wrong with him. At Bolton, we never saw any of that. He was a consummate team player. He worked hard and kept his head up in the Bolton fashion, even when starved of service. Perhaps the best indication of the "new Anelka" was the fact that he paid to fly his teammates out to Morocco for his wedding. Despite Bolton's awful start to the 2007-2008 season, he never bitched and moaned, and when he left for one last big payday at Chelsea, we made a massive profit. I think the rehabilitation of his reputation was a big part of this move.
Well, it looks like the old Nico is back.
Or is he? Sure, he verbally abused Raymond Domenech, thus fulfilling the dream of 65 million Frenchmen. But look at how the players have rallied around him, even super-tool John Terry. That probably wouldn't have happened four years ago. The other point to keep in mind is that Domenech is a complete idiot and shouldn't have been in this position in the first place. Ask 100 football fans if he should be managing France, and 99 will stare at you in disbelief because you even bothered asking the question.
It seems odd to me that I'm devoting so much time to a team I don't care for at all, but I do still have a soft spot for Nico and it's a shame he has to go out like this.
Well, it looks like the old Nico is back.
Or is he? Sure, he verbally abused Raymond Domenech, thus fulfilling the dream of 65 million Frenchmen. But look at how the players have rallied around him, even super-tool John Terry. That probably wouldn't have happened four years ago. The other point to keep in mind is that Domenech is a complete idiot and shouldn't have been in this position in the first place. Ask 100 football fans if he should be managing France, and 99 will stare at you in disbelief because you even bothered asking the question.
It seems odd to me that I'm devoting so much time to a team I don't care for at all, but I do still have a soft spot for Nico and it's a shame he has to go out like this.
I Know I'm Sounding Like a Broken Record . . .
. . . but I'm at the airport at 4:30 in the morning and people are STILL blowing vuvuzelas.
The Numbers Game
I've often heard that Brazil's coach Dunga is very well organized. This was shown by the fact that, when other coaches were releasing preliminary 30-man rosters, Dunga already had his list of 23 finalized. I've also noticed that Brazil is the only team I've seen which started both games with the players wearing squad numbers 1-11. Clearly Dunga knew exactly what his team was going to look like for this World Cup, and they're playing very well. Not bad for somebody whose name means "Dopey."
Should have passed some of that discipline on to Kaka though . . .
Should have passed some of that discipline on to Kaka though . . .
Vuvuzelas: Still Suck
You'd think that after more than a week and after several hundred blasts of noise in my ear, I'd have gotten used to the vuvuzelas. You would be wrong. They're still spoiling the World Cup. The below diagram pretty much sums up the problem with vuvuzelas at the game:
In other words, no matter what happens, the reaction is the same. Cameroon scores: vuvuzelas. Denmark equalizes: vuvuzelas. Denmark takes the lead: vuvuzelas. The Danes in front of me tried to get inspirational chants and songs going; from 4 rows back I couldn't hear them. The damage to the atmosphere is perhaps less important than the damage to the games themselves; Thomas Sorensen of Denmark has said he needs to use sign language to communicate with his defenders, which might explain the first goal they gave away yesterday. We'll see about the damage to hearing as well.
I think the problem is that vuvuzelas are too democratic. You don't have to come up with clever chants, start catchy songs, or even know anything about the teams involved in order to control the atmosphere of the game. Everything is just one long continuous drone. I'll admit to feeling a fair bit of schadenfreude when South Africa were spanked 3-0 by Uruguay, just because every goal from the South Americans shut up the horn-blowers, at least temporarily.
This image Max sent me pretty much sums up what I'd like to do to people with vuvuzelas.
http://i.imgur.com/2lJE1.gif
In other words, no matter what happens, the reaction is the same. Cameroon scores: vuvuzelas. Denmark equalizes: vuvuzelas. Denmark takes the lead: vuvuzelas. The Danes in front of me tried to get inspirational chants and songs going; from 4 rows back I couldn't hear them. The damage to the atmosphere is perhaps less important than the damage to the games themselves; Thomas Sorensen of Denmark has said he needs to use sign language to communicate with his defenders, which might explain the first goal they gave away yesterday. We'll see about the damage to hearing as well.
I think the problem is that vuvuzelas are too democratic. You don't have to come up with clever chants, start catchy songs, or even know anything about the teams involved in order to control the atmosphere of the game. Everything is just one long continuous drone. I'll admit to feeling a fair bit of schadenfreude when South Africa were spanked 3-0 by Uruguay, just because every goal from the South Americans shut up the horn-blowers, at least temporarily.
This image Max sent me pretty much sums up what I'd like to do to people with vuvuzelas.
http://i.imgur.com/2lJE1.gif
Pretoria - Cameroon vs. Denmark
The Denmark vs. Cameroon game was my first game outside of Johannesburg. This posed certain transportation challenges. There's really no information about traveling around the country. It took me two days to figure out there was a train between Johannesburg and Pretoria, where the game was. I also got a number of different answers as to what the train schedule actually was, so I decided to leave very early, leaving at 10:30 AM for an 8:30 PM game.
I got a cab to the train station, only to find that the train station closest to my guest house didn't have any way to actually buy tickets, or any indication as to which train was going to Pretoria. I had to take a short walk to a different train station. There, I found that the ticket was only R9, or R15 for first class. I decided to splurge. I headed down to the tracks and noticed a curious phenomenon. The sign indicating the ETA for the train kept getting pushed back every minute until the train actually arrived, and it seemed that one train was an hour late. It did not run with the efficiency of the KTX. Nor was it as comfortable as the KTX. The train itself was rather dirty and dark, though first class was better and advertised more security. Hawkers walked up and down the train with chocolate, oranges, and newspapers. It was a slow journey - about an hour and a half - but considering that a taxi would cost about R500-700, I considered it a bargain.
Getting off at the train station, I sought information. I got two different answers as to when the last train was. A woman at the ticket window told me 7:30 PM, which obviously wouldn't work. A woman at the information booth told me the last train was specifically for the World Cup, at 11:20 PM. I hoped the latter was correct, but resigned myself to the possibility of taking a taxi back. I also couldn't get any information about what to do in Pretoria while I killed a few hours. Thus I just wandered down the street. It was a beautiful day and Pretoria is an interesting city. The city hall and church square are definitely European. Your average stores and apartment buildings look frozen in the 1970's, from the architecture to the style of font on the signs.
I stumbled across the Transvaal Museum, which is dedicated to natural history. They had impressive collections of stuffed birds and African animals, an extensive exhibit on the minerals of South Africa, and a good introduction to the evolution of life (if you actually believe that scientific voodoo). My favorite part of the place though was the various examples of proto-human "apemen" in peril. The models included:
- Apeman being eaten by tiger
- Apeboy being attacked by eagle
- Apeman being eaten by tiger
- Apeman falling into pit
- Apeman being eaten by tiger
- Ape family being attacked by eagle AND tiger simultaneously
Those weren't typos; there were actually four tiger vs. apeman scenarios.
After the museum I tried to find a bar where I could watch the Australia vs. Ghana game. I had to settle on a small TV at Wimpy. At this time I got a miraculous call; it turned out that John was also in Pretoria, with his car, and he was attempting to get a ticket for the game. With this is mind I headed to the stadium, again very early. How do you kill 3 hours before a game? Well, there was the second half of the Australia/Ghana game. After that, there was an entertainment booth with games and contests and prizes and such. I need to try to get to one of these next time. There was a soccer trivia contest in which I would have crushed the contestants. I did win a fan pack courtesy of a puerile question about MTN mobile phones. The fan pack contained some face paint, a tattoo, some wetnaps, and, thankfully, EARPLUGS. This was great as I had dropped my earplugs in a puddle of beer at the USA/Slovenia game.
Once the novelty of this wore off, I headed into the stadium, shoved my earplugs in, and read. Yes, I know, I'm lame. John was unable to get a ticket and was watching the game at the bar, despite the fact that the stadium wasn't close to sold out. Nice, FIFA. By an astonishing coincidence, I was sitting next to a chap named Kevin. Like me, Kevin was a North American (Canadian) supporting Denmark. Like me, Kevin was an English teacher in Korea. How about that?
Denmark started terribly, with a ridiculous pass out of the defense allowing Samuel Eto'o to give Cameroon the lead. A great cross from Dennis Rommedahl allowed Bendtner to equalize with a tap-in - the only kind of goal he's likely to score. After half time, Rommedahl cut in from the right and curled a shot past the Cameroonian keeper. After that the game was fairly open, with Tomasson spurning a great chance to tie the record as Denmark's all-time leading scorer. Sorensen had to make a couple of good saves. The atmosphere from the Danish fans was good, although it's virtually impossible to hear anything in these games.
After the victory, I stormed out of the stadium trying to find John. After some awful directions from police and a lot of running, I was finally able to meet up with him and get a ride back to Jo'burg. Sure beats the train.
I got a cab to the train station, only to find that the train station closest to my guest house didn't have any way to actually buy tickets, or any indication as to which train was going to Pretoria. I had to take a short walk to a different train station. There, I found that the ticket was only R9, or R15 for first class. I decided to splurge. I headed down to the tracks and noticed a curious phenomenon. The sign indicating the ETA for the train kept getting pushed back every minute until the train actually arrived, and it seemed that one train was an hour late. It did not run with the efficiency of the KTX. Nor was it as comfortable as the KTX. The train itself was rather dirty and dark, though first class was better and advertised more security. Hawkers walked up and down the train with chocolate, oranges, and newspapers. It was a slow journey - about an hour and a half - but considering that a taxi would cost about R500-700, I considered it a bargain.
Getting off at the train station, I sought information. I got two different answers as to when the last train was. A woman at the ticket window told me 7:30 PM, which obviously wouldn't work. A woman at the information booth told me the last train was specifically for the World Cup, at 11:20 PM. I hoped the latter was correct, but resigned myself to the possibility of taking a taxi back. I also couldn't get any information about what to do in Pretoria while I killed a few hours. Thus I just wandered down the street. It was a beautiful day and Pretoria is an interesting city. The city hall and church square are definitely European. Your average stores and apartment buildings look frozen in the 1970's, from the architecture to the style of font on the signs.
I stumbled across the Transvaal Museum, which is dedicated to natural history. They had impressive collections of stuffed birds and African animals, an extensive exhibit on the minerals of South Africa, and a good introduction to the evolution of life (if you actually believe that scientific voodoo). My favorite part of the place though was the various examples of proto-human "apemen" in peril. The models included:
- Apeman being eaten by tiger
- Apeboy being attacked by eagle
- Apeman being eaten by tiger
- Apeman falling into pit
- Apeman being eaten by tiger
- Ape family being attacked by eagle AND tiger simultaneously
Those weren't typos; there were actually four tiger vs. apeman scenarios.
After the museum I tried to find a bar where I could watch the Australia vs. Ghana game. I had to settle on a small TV at Wimpy. At this time I got a miraculous call; it turned out that John was also in Pretoria, with his car, and he was attempting to get a ticket for the game. With this is mind I headed to the stadium, again very early. How do you kill 3 hours before a game? Well, there was the second half of the Australia/Ghana game. After that, there was an entertainment booth with games and contests and prizes and such. I need to try to get to one of these next time. There was a soccer trivia contest in which I would have crushed the contestants. I did win a fan pack courtesy of a puerile question about MTN mobile phones. The fan pack contained some face paint, a tattoo, some wetnaps, and, thankfully, EARPLUGS. This was great as I had dropped my earplugs in a puddle of beer at the USA/Slovenia game.
Once the novelty of this wore off, I headed into the stadium, shoved my earplugs in, and read. Yes, I know, I'm lame. John was unable to get a ticket and was watching the game at the bar, despite the fact that the stadium wasn't close to sold out. Nice, FIFA. By an astonishing coincidence, I was sitting next to a chap named Kevin. Like me, Kevin was a North American (Canadian) supporting Denmark. Like me, Kevin was an English teacher in Korea. How about that?
Denmark started terribly, with a ridiculous pass out of the defense allowing Samuel Eto'o to give Cameroon the lead. A great cross from Dennis Rommedahl allowed Bendtner to equalize with a tap-in - the only kind of goal he's likely to score. After half time, Rommedahl cut in from the right and curled a shot past the Cameroonian keeper. After that the game was fairly open, with Tomasson spurning a great chance to tie the record as Denmark's all-time leading scorer. Sorensen had to make a couple of good saves. The atmosphere from the Danish fans was good, although it's virtually impossible to hear anything in these games.
After the victory, I stormed out of the stadium trying to find John. After some awful directions from police and a lot of running, I was finally able to meet up with him and get a ride back to Jo'burg. Sure beats the train.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Best Seats ≠ Best Experience
Yesterday was my first ever live USA soccer match, so I decided to splurge on the seats when bought them. Whereas for all other games I bought the cheap seats, here I bought Category 1 seats. These put me about midway between the half way line and the goal, in row O, so 15 rows back. Plus, was wearing a powdered wig and tricorn hat:
You would think that this would lead to a great experience. Not exactly.
First of all, there was the aforementioned problem with Slovenians trying to cheat their way into the good seats. Second of all, there were two absolute jackass Americans sitting in front of me who kept trying to stand up during the game, despite repeated warnings from the stewards. I mean, I understand the appeal of standing during a match, but that simply isn't the way it's done anymore. Their insistence on standing led to fights with other Americans, which wasn't much of an advertisement for our country.
Neither was our performance during the first half, with the minuscule nation of Slovenia jumping to a 2-0 lead, though the first goal looked offside. I also missed Landon Donovan's goal early in the first half, thanks to some guy in the beer line who was . . . well I don't know what his problem was. Whatever he was doing, it wasn't giving the appropriate amount of money for the beer he was purchasing.
I didn't miss Michael Bradley's equalizer though, and it was the kind of moment where random strangers were jumping around and hugging each other. So was our third goal . . . until it was disallowed for no good reason. In other words, got sprayed with beer for no reason. The referee, I understand, is under investigation for this and probably won't referee any more games, but obviously it was too little, too late for the USA.
Fortunately, Algeria did us a massive favor and as long as we defeat them, we'll go on to the next round.
You would think that this would lead to a great experience. Not exactly.
First of all, there was the aforementioned problem with Slovenians trying to cheat their way into the good seats. Second of all, there were two absolute jackass Americans sitting in front of me who kept trying to stand up during the game, despite repeated warnings from the stewards. I mean, I understand the appeal of standing during a match, but that simply isn't the way it's done anymore. Their insistence on standing led to fights with other Americans, which wasn't much of an advertisement for our country.
Neither was our performance during the first half, with the minuscule nation of Slovenia jumping to a 2-0 lead, though the first goal looked offside. I also missed Landon Donovan's goal early in the first half, thanks to some guy in the beer line who was . . . well I don't know what his problem was. Whatever he was doing, it wasn't giving the appropriate amount of money for the beer he was purchasing.
I didn't miss Michael Bradley's equalizer though, and it was the kind of moment where random strangers were jumping around and hugging each other. So was our third goal . . . until it was disallowed for no good reason. In other words, got sprayed with beer for no reason. The referee, I understand, is under investigation for this and probably won't referee any more games, but obviously it was too little, too late for the USA.
Fortunately, Algeria did us a massive favor and as long as we defeat them, we'll go on to the next round.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Slovenians Can't Sit In Seats
I have gathered that Slovenia does not have assigned seating. This would explain why scores of Slovenians were ejected from the stadium today for sitting in the wrong seats.
Pregame: USA vs. Slovenia
As an enlightened 21st century American, I understand that the Cold War is long gone. The former Soviet Bloc has been on a path toward democracy, freedom, and free market capitalism. They are seeking integration into the EU and work closely with us in NATO. The people who lived under Stalinist rule suffered greatly and it's a credit to their spirit that they have qualified for the World Cup and are able to cheer their team on.
That said, I hope we crush these communists.
That said, I hope we crush these communists.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
I Hate France
I was going to start this entry off with a joke, something like, "There are three situations in which I would cheer for France:"
1. -
2. -
3. They're playing Mexico.
The problem is, I actually can't think of any other scenarios in which I would want the French to win. France vs. North Korea? Go DPRK. France vs. Washington State University? I'm pulling for a draw. France vs. The Unholy Army of Satan? Trick question.
However, tonight France were playing Mexico, and so for the first and perhaps only time in my life I was cheering for Les Blues. What did I get in return? The most spineless performance in a French uniform since Philippe Pétain. Sure, Mexico's first goal was probably offside (just) and the penalty was a dive. But France showed zero heart and Domenech's team selection remains baffling. Abidal at center back? Didn't he learn from that at Euro 2008? Who the hell is Valbuena?
It looks like Mexico will progress with Uruguay. What a bummer. Oh well. Here's something to cheer me up:
1. -
2. -
3. They're playing Mexico.
The problem is, I actually can't think of any other scenarios in which I would want the French to win. France vs. North Korea? Go DPRK. France vs. Washington State University? I'm pulling for a draw. France vs. The Unholy Army of Satan? Trick question.
However, tonight France were playing Mexico, and so for the first and perhaps only time in my life I was cheering for Les Blues. What did I get in return? The most spineless performance in a French uniform since Philippe Pétain. Sure, Mexico's first goal was probably offside (just) and the penalty was a dive. But France showed zero heart and Domenech's team selection remains baffling. Abidal at center back? Didn't he learn from that at Euro 2008? Who the hell is Valbuena?
It looks like Mexico will progress with Uruguay. What a bummer. Oh well. Here's something to cheer me up:
Argentina vs. South Ko . . . Sorry, Korean Republic.
This game started off promisingly. I had purchased Category 3 seating (AKA, nosebleed) but John had extra Category 2 seats and was kind enough to pass one on to me. This meant I was just about level with the corner flag, 4 rows back. They were great seats, and I was close enough to get a great picture of the world's best player . . . no, not Lionel Messi.
After that, it was pretty much downhill. Argentina went ahead via an own goal from the abysmal Park Chu-young. Higuain doubled their lead with an (offside) goal. Just before half time, my man Lee Chung-yong capitalized on an error from Martin Dimichelis. Somebody please explain to me how this clown plays for Bayern Munich AND Argentina. I think I must be good enough for those teams.
Korea played well after half time, with Yeom Ki-hun inexplicably wasting a brilliant pass from Chung-yong and shooting into the side netting. Higuain added another (offside) goal on the break before wrapping up his hat-trick with his first legitimate goal.
The 4-1 scoreline looks bad but you have to remember that one of Argentina's goals was scored by a Korean and two others shouldn't have stood. One wonders if the Hand of God passed some cash to the referee.
After that, it was pretty much downhill. Argentina went ahead via an own goal from the abysmal Park Chu-young. Higuain doubled their lead with an (offside) goal. Just before half time, my man Lee Chung-yong capitalized on an error from Martin Dimichelis. Somebody please explain to me how this clown plays for Bayern Munich AND Argentina. I think I must be good enough for those teams.
Korea played well after half time, with Yeom Ki-hun inexplicably wasting a brilliant pass from Chung-yong and shooting into the side netting. Higuain added another (offside) goal on the break before wrapping up his hat-trick with his first legitimate goal.
The 4-1 scoreline looks bad but you have to remember that one of Argentina's goals was scored by a Korean and two others shouldn't have stood. One wonders if the Hand of God passed some cash to the referee.
The Official World Cup Song (Sucks)
Somebody needs to explain to me why the official World Cup song "Waka Waka (This Time for Africa)," which you hear constantly, is sung by Shakira. There are three problems with this. First, Shakira sucks. Secondly, why did FIFA pick a Colombian to sing about Africa? Third, Shakira hasn't been popular for ten years. This, combined with the fact that R. Kelly also performed at the opening ceremony, indicates that Sepp Blatter hasn't listened to the radio since 1999, which was coincidentally the last time he was able to see his feet.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Finally! An Upset!
Great news for the tournament as a whole with Switzerland's defeat of Spain. I mean, this isn't technically good news, as all good-hearted people hate the Swiss. However there has been precious little to grab the imagination in this tournament. There have been impressive draws, such as South Africa against Mexico, USA against England, and of course Paraguay against Italy. Even North Korea were impressive in defeat. But this is the first time the underdog has pulled out the win, and the fact that it's against one of the favorites, perhaps THE favorite, means this tournament has just gotten a lot more interesting.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Brazil vs. North Ko . . . sorry, DPRK
When I bought my ticket for this game, I did so with the intent of ironically supporting North Korea, perhaps by making a large "주체" banner. However, after they sank a South Korean ship, killing more than 40 people, I decided to root firmly for Brazil. Anything that embarrasses Kim Jong-il is fine by me.
Matt, Ana and I were dropped off in the vicinity of the stadium and got to walk through the freezing night. At first I was happy to escape the humidity of the Asian summer, but I'm not sure this is much better. Even with a long sleeve shirt, a USA jersey, a hoodie, a coat, long underwear, jeans, gloves, and a hat, it was still chilly. Still, people were out selling things on the street, including face paint, which seemed like a bad idea in the dark.
The lines to get in were longer than they were at the Netherlands vs. Denmark game, which was surprising given that there were 30,000 fewer people. This may have been down to stadium design. Ellis Park is older than Soccer City. There also seemed to be brownouts around the stadium, which was not encouraging.
As you might imagine, the crowd was extremely pro-Brazil. The folks from my guesthouse are mostly Brazilian and they were thoroughly bedecked in jerseys, scarves, and flags. Some even had a giant meter-tall replica of the World Cup with them, which they somehow managed to lose at the game. Don't ask me how that happened. In contrast, the North Korean supporters were limited to a small group, and I highly doubt they were actually North Korean. Curiously, North Korea - sorry Democratic People's Republic of Korea - didn't have a video montage of their starters the way that Brazil did. I wondered if they weren't even allowed that little bit of fun by their government.
The game itself was surprisingly close. Brazil obviously bossed the possession but North Korea had a few opportunities on the break and their striker Jong Tae-Se worked his ass off in Kevin Davies-like fashion. They were well organized and gave everything to keep Brazil out. At half time it was 0-0 much to my surprise. Outside, there were long lines around the guy selling hot coffee. The ice cream vendors were predictably unsuccessful but kept a good sense of humor about it.
The deadlock really was never going to last forever. Seven minutes after the restart, right back Maicon scored what Brazilians will tell you was a shot that beat the keeper at the near post, and what I will tell you was an awful cross that went in. Robinho slid in a perfect pass for Elano to double the lead. However, Ji Yun-nam gave the Dear Leader hope with a great strike near the end, leading to appreciative cheers from the crowd. The upset was not to be though. It was somewhat disappointing as I think a lot of people expected this game to be the blowout of the tournament. North Korea is the lowest-ranked team in the tournament, and Brazil . . . well, they're Brazil. It just goes to show that the smaller teams these days are very good at organizing themselves and there just aren't very many easy games.
After a great deal of effort trying to get a taxi, we went to Monte Casino, which had a number of cool clubs. I lost R150 on Roulette in about 3 minutes. Piss.
Matt, Ana and I were dropped off in the vicinity of the stadium and got to walk through the freezing night. At first I was happy to escape the humidity of the Asian summer, but I'm not sure this is much better. Even with a long sleeve shirt, a USA jersey, a hoodie, a coat, long underwear, jeans, gloves, and a hat, it was still chilly. Still, people were out selling things on the street, including face paint, which seemed like a bad idea in the dark.
The lines to get in were longer than they were at the Netherlands vs. Denmark game, which was surprising given that there were 30,000 fewer people. This may have been down to stadium design. Ellis Park is older than Soccer City. There also seemed to be brownouts around the stadium, which was not encouraging.
As you might imagine, the crowd was extremely pro-Brazil. The folks from my guesthouse are mostly Brazilian and they were thoroughly bedecked in jerseys, scarves, and flags. Some even had a giant meter-tall replica of the World Cup with them, which they somehow managed to lose at the game. Don't ask me how that happened. In contrast, the North Korean supporters were limited to a small group, and I highly doubt they were actually North Korean. Curiously, North Korea - sorry Democratic People's Republic of Korea - didn't have a video montage of their starters the way that Brazil did. I wondered if they weren't even allowed that little bit of fun by their government.
The game itself was surprisingly close. Brazil obviously bossed the possession but North Korea had a few opportunities on the break and their striker Jong Tae-Se worked his ass off in Kevin Davies-like fashion. They were well organized and gave everything to keep Brazil out. At half time it was 0-0 much to my surprise. Outside, there were long lines around the guy selling hot coffee. The ice cream vendors were predictably unsuccessful but kept a good sense of humor about it.
The deadlock really was never going to last forever. Seven minutes after the restart, right back Maicon scored what Brazilians will tell you was a shot that beat the keeper at the near post, and what I will tell you was an awful cross that went in. Robinho slid in a perfect pass for Elano to double the lead. However, Ji Yun-nam gave the Dear Leader hope with a great strike near the end, leading to appreciative cheers from the crowd. The upset was not to be though. It was somewhat disappointing as I think a lot of people expected this game to be the blowout of the tournament. North Korea is the lowest-ranked team in the tournament, and Brazil . . . well, they're Brazil. It just goes to show that the smaller teams these days are very good at organizing themselves and there just aren't very many easy games.
After a great deal of effort trying to get a taxi, we went to Monte Casino, which had a number of cool clubs. I lost R150 on Roulette in about 3 minutes. Piss.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Netherlands vs. Denmark
As this was my first game at the World Cup, I was excited. As transportation links in this country are vague at best, I was a bit nervous. However, my fellow guesthouse dweller John was kind enough to give me a ride after we had breakfast at Wimpy. Traffic there wasn't bad at all, and the GPS was quite beneficial. I'll have to buy one when I get home.
Getting into the stadium wasn't a problem. I was a bit surprised by the ticketing process though. FIFA went to great pains to provide discount tickets for South African citizens and to ensure your name is on the ticket in an effort to prevent scalping and hooliganism. However, nobody asked for my ID or even looked at the name on my ticket. My ticket could have said "N'Kwane N!fuze" and nobody would have caught anything. This does give me hope in case I want to pick up a ticket outside the stadium in the future.
The Soccer City stadium is most impressive and is very well laid out. The ramps that led me up to my nosebleed section seat reminded me fondly of the Kingdome . . . sniff. Luckily I was not reminded of the Kingdome when I went to purchase beer. The price was only 30 rand, which is about USD 4. Sadly, the official beer sponsor of the World Cup is Budweiser, so that was my only option. Honestly, FIFA? Guinness didn't make a decent bid?
The atmosphere for the game was great. The Dutch often have the best fans at soccer tournaments and they were here in full force, thoroughly outnumbering the Danes. Then again, the Danes were there in full costume as well, and their population is about a quarter of that of the Netherlands. My favorite outfits were the four guys in red suits with the white cross across the chest. In total, the attendance was 85,000 or so. I had held some hopes that the vuvuzelas would not be present at this game between two Northern European teams; I was wrong and will need to bring earplugs to the next game.
I took my seat. Unlike an English game, or even a K-League game, the fans were not segregated so there was some friendly banter between the Dutch and the Danes. Though I was in the cheap seats, the view was still quite good. I was sitting next to a very friendly (and very drunk) South African who kept buying too many beers for his mates and passing them on to me. Sweet. The rendition of the Danish national anthem was stirring. Note to self, learn second verse of Danish national anthem.
It was pretty much all downhill from there though. The first half was excruciatingly boring and neither team crafted too many chances. Seconds into the second half, the Danes scored a comical own goal, with Simon Poulsen heading into his own net via Daniel Agger's back. Later on Dirk Kuyt - who plays for Liverpool and therefore sucks - tapped in after Eljero Elia hit the post. It was a poor performance by the Danes, with only a few chances of note. Japan's victory over Cameroon has made their job quite difficult now.
I decided to take the train to get back. This wasn't a great plan; the nearest train station is about a 30 minute walk from where I am staying and I didn't have a great grasp of the train system anyway. However, the train was free. The warnings about the safety of the train system seemed totally over the top, at least as far as the segment near the stadium was concerned. I was able to get to Johannesburg Park Station and catch a cab back for 100 rand, or USD 13 or so. Not a bad deal at all, I thought.
Getting into the stadium wasn't a problem. I was a bit surprised by the ticketing process though. FIFA went to great pains to provide discount tickets for South African citizens and to ensure your name is on the ticket in an effort to prevent scalping and hooliganism. However, nobody asked for my ID or even looked at the name on my ticket. My ticket could have said "N'Kwane N!fuze" and nobody would have caught anything. This does give me hope in case I want to pick up a ticket outside the stadium in the future.
The Soccer City stadium is most impressive and is very well laid out. The ramps that led me up to my nosebleed section seat reminded me fondly of the Kingdome . . . sniff. Luckily I was not reminded of the Kingdome when I went to purchase beer. The price was only 30 rand, which is about USD 4. Sadly, the official beer sponsor of the World Cup is Budweiser, so that was my only option. Honestly, FIFA? Guinness didn't make a decent bid?
The atmosphere for the game was great. The Dutch often have the best fans at soccer tournaments and they were here in full force, thoroughly outnumbering the Danes. Then again, the Danes were there in full costume as well, and their population is about a quarter of that of the Netherlands. My favorite outfits were the four guys in red suits with the white cross across the chest. In total, the attendance was 85,000 or so. I had held some hopes that the vuvuzelas would not be present at this game between two Northern European teams; I was wrong and will need to bring earplugs to the next game.
I took my seat. Unlike an English game, or even a K-League game, the fans were not segregated so there was some friendly banter between the Dutch and the Danes. Though I was in the cheap seats, the view was still quite good. I was sitting next to a very friendly (and very drunk) South African who kept buying too many beers for his mates and passing them on to me. Sweet. The rendition of the Danish national anthem was stirring. Note to self, learn second verse of Danish national anthem.
It was pretty much all downhill from there though. The first half was excruciatingly boring and neither team crafted too many chances. Seconds into the second half, the Danes scored a comical own goal, with Simon Poulsen heading into his own net via Daniel Agger's back. Later on Dirk Kuyt - who plays for Liverpool and therefore sucks - tapped in after Eljero Elia hit the post. It was a poor performance by the Danes, with only a few chances of note. Japan's victory over Cameroon has made their job quite difficult now.
I decided to take the train to get back. This wasn't a great plan; the nearest train station is about a 30 minute walk from where I am staying and I didn't have a great grasp of the train system anyway. However, the train was free. The warnings about the safety of the train system seemed totally over the top, at least as far as the segment near the stadium was concerned. I was able to get to Johannesburg Park Station and catch a cab back for 100 rand, or USD 13 or so. Not a bad deal at all, I thought.
A Brief Summary of my Attempts to Speak Danish at the Netherlands vs. Denmark game
Me: question in Danish with heavy American accent.
Danish guy: answer in English.
Fail.
Danish guy: answer in English.
Fail.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Headlines
Before the England vs. USA game, some irreverent limey friends of mine on the Bolton message board were having a laugh at this cover from The Sun:
Now I try my best to argue that there are discerning American soccer/football fans who understand the offside law and know that the guy between the sticks is a "keeper" and not a "goalie." But my cause isn't helped by things like this:
Oh dear. Well, regardless of the ignorance shown here, the USA deserved the draw. You can say it was a horrendous error from Green for Dempsey's goal, but the truth is that Capello was justly punished for poor team selection. Aaron Lennon can run fast in a straight line but there's little else in his locker. Heskey set up Gerrard well but is always going to fluff his shots. Jamie Carragher is a big, slow, dumb Scouse ox. And what can you say about Robert Green? He gives Bolton six points every season. For all the talk of Capello picking players on form rather than reputation, he's still putting in weak West Ham and Tottenham players.
Onyewu was heroic for the USA, and Howard and Bradley also did very well. The front pairing of Findley and Altidore didn't work as far as I'm concerned; for the next game I'd bring in Bealsey if fit on the left and put Donovan up front with Altidore. On that performance, I think we'll be able to handle Slovenia and Algeria with ease.
Now I try my best to argue that there are discerning American soccer/football fans who understand the offside law and know that the guy between the sticks is a "keeper" and not a "goalie." But my cause isn't helped by things like this:
Oh dear. Well, regardless of the ignorance shown here, the USA deserved the draw. You can say it was a horrendous error from Green for Dempsey's goal, but the truth is that Capello was justly punished for poor team selection. Aaron Lennon can run fast in a straight line but there's little else in his locker. Heskey set up Gerrard well but is always going to fluff his shots. Jamie Carragher is a big, slow, dumb Scouse ox. And what can you say about Robert Green? He gives Bolton six points every season. For all the talk of Capello picking players on form rather than reputation, he's still putting in weak West Ham and Tottenham players.
Onyewu was heroic for the USA, and Howard and Bradley also did very well. The front pairing of Findley and Altidore didn't work as far as I'm concerned; for the next game I'd bring in Bealsey if fit on the left and put Donovan up front with Altidore. On that performance, I think we'll be able to handle Slovenia and Algeria with ease.
Apartheid Museum
It would be a shame to fly all the way to South Africa and experience nothing besides soccer, so today I joined my new friends Ana, Bianca, and Matt in a trip to the Apartheid Museum. The taxi driver asked me afterward whether or not I enjoyed the museum; I replied that I didn't think it was something that one really "enjoys" but it was certainly informative. The sign outside really undermined the gravitas of the topic:
Upon purchasing a ticket you are randomly assigned a "white" or "non-white" card, and the entrance is segregated as all things would have been under apartheid. It does drive home the arbitrary nature of the system, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was missing something being on the "non-whites" side.
The overwhelming feeling you get as you walk through the vast and impressive museum is a sense of "just how the f*** could this have happened?" To think that at some point, large numbers of people said "Yeah, this is a good idea, let's go with this" . . . yikes. Amid international outrage, expulsion from the Commonwealth, and economic boycotts, the white South Africans soldiered on, even attacking the ANC in countries outside of South Africa. Listening to speeches from pigs like P.W. Botha reminds one uncomfortably of George Wallace's "Segregation Now, Segregation etc." screed. It's so appalling that one can't help but feel a sense of justice when you get to the video of an assassination attempt on Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoed, sometimes known as the "architect of apartheid." That he was later successfully assassinated failed to move the author. Fortunately Nelson Mandela was a bit more forgiving than me.
There is a large exhibit on Mandela, and here you are overwhelmed by the wisdom of his drive for reconciliation. Despite the torments he suffered under the white South Africans, he was smart enough to understand that they were the ones with the money and the expertise and the country couldn't function without them. Compare this to Robert Mugabe's scorched earth retaliation policy. South Africa is hosting the World Cup; Zimbabweans are paying for bread with 100 trillion dollar bills.
There's a gift shop, but I declined to purchase the "Whites Only" coffee mug. I didn't want to have to explain the origin of the mug every time somebody was over for coffee and looked at me like some sort of monster.
Also, I got home in time to watch Germany demolish Australia. Not very good, Socceroos.
Upon purchasing a ticket you are randomly assigned a "white" or "non-white" card, and the entrance is segregated as all things would have been under apartheid. It does drive home the arbitrary nature of the system, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was missing something being on the "non-whites" side.
The overwhelming feeling you get as you walk through the vast and impressive museum is a sense of "just how the f*** could this have happened?" To think that at some point, large numbers of people said "Yeah, this is a good idea, let's go with this" . . . yikes. Amid international outrage, expulsion from the Commonwealth, and economic boycotts, the white South Africans soldiered on, even attacking the ANC in countries outside of South Africa. Listening to speeches from pigs like P.W. Botha reminds one uncomfortably of George Wallace's "Segregation Now, Segregation etc." screed. It's so appalling that one can't help but feel a sense of justice when you get to the video of an assassination attempt on Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoed, sometimes known as the "architect of apartheid." That he was later successfully assassinated failed to move the author. Fortunately Nelson Mandela was a bit more forgiving than me.
There is a large exhibit on Mandela, and here you are overwhelmed by the wisdom of his drive for reconciliation. Despite the torments he suffered under the white South Africans, he was smart enough to understand that they were the ones with the money and the expertise and the country couldn't function without them. Compare this to Robert Mugabe's scorched earth retaliation policy. South Africa is hosting the World Cup; Zimbabweans are paying for bread with 100 trillion dollar bills.
There's a gift shop, but I declined to purchase the "Whites Only" coffee mug. I didn't want to have to explain the origin of the mug every time somebody was over for coffee and looked at me like some sort of monster.
Also, I got home in time to watch Germany demolish Australia. Not very good, Socceroos.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Fan Park, First Experience
After watching South Korea comprehensively outplay Greece in a 2-0 victory, I decided to wander over to the fan park down the street and check it out. I probably should have gone yesterday for the opening game, South Africa vs. Mexico, as I bet the atmosphere would have been great. However, I was knackered after my flight and I didn't think I'd be able to handle the vuvuzela assault.
I did, however, want to check out the Nigeria vs. Argentina game. Everyone I've talked to has been fascinated by Argentina in this tournament. With their pedigree - champions in 1978 and 1986 - and the talent they have, including World Player of the Year Lionel Messi, you wouldn't bet against them doing well. But never underestimate the power of Diego Maradona to cock something up horrendously. They barely squeaked into the tournament, and the media pressure has been relentless, so a disaster is entirely possible.
The atmosphere for the game was subdued. I was able to pick up a tasty (and cheap) mutton curry for dinner, then grab a seat on the sparsely populated grass lawn in front of the stage and two large televisions. Initially there was a funky African band playing, but they went off the stage as soon as the game started. The crowd, small though they were, were firmly behind Nigeria and cheered every shot and every save from the outstanding Vincent Enyeama. There was no evidence of the possible Argentine meltdown and they easily outplayed Nigeria. Though the result was only 1-0, it would have been much worse were it not for Enyeama.
Probably the most interesting part of the experience was meeting a Hungarian sports anthropologist who had studied in Nevada and was currently doing her dissertation on the Basque club Athletic Bilbao. Before meeting her I didn't even know that "sports anthropology" was an academic field, but I have to say, it sounds right up my alley. I got her contact information and I look forward to reading the results of her research in summer 2011.
I did, however, want to check out the Nigeria vs. Argentina game. Everyone I've talked to has been fascinated by Argentina in this tournament. With their pedigree - champions in 1978 and 1986 - and the talent they have, including World Player of the Year Lionel Messi, you wouldn't bet against them doing well. But never underestimate the power of Diego Maradona to cock something up horrendously. They barely squeaked into the tournament, and the media pressure has been relentless, so a disaster is entirely possible.
The atmosphere for the game was subdued. I was able to pick up a tasty (and cheap) mutton curry for dinner, then grab a seat on the sparsely populated grass lawn in front of the stage and two large televisions. Initially there was a funky African band playing, but they went off the stage as soon as the game started. The crowd, small though they were, were firmly behind Nigeria and cheered every shot and every save from the outstanding Vincent Enyeama. There was no evidence of the possible Argentine meltdown and they easily outplayed Nigeria. Though the result was only 1-0, it would have been much worse were it not for Enyeama.
Probably the most interesting part of the experience was meeting a Hungarian sports anthropologist who had studied in Nevada and was currently doing her dissertation on the Basque club Athletic Bilbao. Before meeting her I didn't even know that "sports anthropology" was an academic field, but I have to say, it sounds right up my alley. I got her contact information and I look forward to reading the results of her research in summer 2011.
대한민국!
Years ago, my friend Alex remarked with laughter that the South Korean soccer fans' favored chant translates literally as "Republic of South Korea!" This is true: they often chant "Daehanminguk!" which I believe translates as something like "Great Nation of the Han People." The title of this blog is "Daehanminguk" in Hangul.
It's a bit funny, because you can't really imagine the American fans chanting "UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!" Similarly, I doubt we'll be hearing "UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND!" at London 2012. Still, this nomenclature seems to have been passed on to the commentator I am watching right now. He keeps referring to the team as "Korean Republic."
"That was a real chance for Korean Republic!"
"Greece have never beaten Korean Republic."
Dude, just say "South Korea!"
EDIT: he just said "Korean Republic, sometimes known as 'South Korea' . . ."
Uh, by "sometimes," you mean "almost always?"
It's a bit funny, because you can't really imagine the American fans chanting "UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!" Similarly, I doubt we'll be hearing "UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND!" at London 2012. Still, this nomenclature seems to have been passed on to the commentator I am watching right now. He keeps referring to the team as "Korean Republic."
"That was a real chance for Korean Republic!"
"Greece have never beaten Korean Republic."
Dude, just say "South Korea!"
EDIT: he just said "Korean Republic, sometimes known as 'South Korea' . . ."
Uh, by "sometimes," you mean "almost always?"
Spirit of 1776
For me, there's nothing like a game between the USA and England. They're not our biggest rivals; that honor goes, of course, to Mexico. And while I'd gladly watch us lose 10 games against England to watch one victory over Mexico, there's still something special about these games.
The thing is that we expect to beat Mexico, at least anywhere outside of the Azteca. We don't expect to beat England. We as Americans are so used to dominating sports that the events we really remember are the rare ones where we were the underdogs. The 1980 Miracle on Ice is probably the best example. There were Cold War overtones but what really made is special was that a team of American college boys defeated the might of the Soviet Red Army. The best example I can recall from my lifetime was the 4 x 100m Olympic relay from the 2008 Olympics. Everyone fancied the French to win it; the French swimmers themselves said they were going to "smash" us. For a long while it looked like that prediction would come true until Jason Lezak somehow pulled off the fastest relay split in history, winning by a split second and presenting us with the glorious sight of the French team in tears of bitter defeat. In my apartment you could hear my neighbors cheering and jumping around; my parents told me that the victory brought people into the streets to celebrate. The recent improbably defeat of Spain and the narrow defeat to Brazil at the 2009 Confederations Cup certainly ranks among these.
A lesser-known but perhaps more impressive example is the famous 1-0 victory over England in the 1950 World Cup, retroactively labeled the "Miracle on Grass." I strongly recommend reading Geoffrey Douglas' outstanding The Game of Their Lives, describing how a bunch of part-time second-generation immigrants managed to overturn the mighty England in Belo Horizonte, Brazil. These are the events that stand out to Americans because they are so uncommon. We all have fond memories of the 1992 Olympic basketball gold medal and the "Dream Team." But when you compare that - Michael Jordan and Larry Bird beating up on countries that barely even knew what a free throw is - to a rag-tag bunch of teachers, mail carriers, and dishwashers defeating the likes of Stanley Mortensen and Sir Tom Finney, beating Croatia 117-85 for the gold seems somehow hollow.
There are times when I feel disappointed that America as a whole has yet to embrace the "beautiful game." Yet I also know that should it become as popular as the "Big 4," then we would be expected to dominate the game the way we dominate other international sports. When that happens the burden of expectation will rob us of that glorious possibility of overcoming the odds and recording what is referred to in England as a "famous victory." As it stands, this game still feels like the battle between colonizer and colonized, of Inventors of the Game vs. Emerging Soccer Power.
Ironically, as I write this I'm sitting at Wimpy eating a full English breakfast. But I'm also clad in the 1950 USA World Cup jersey, fervently believing that we can win this game. There are footballing reasons to think this is possible - England are traditionally slow starters in international tournaments and they have suffered injuries to important players like Rio Ferdinand and Gareth Barry. But perhaps I am just relying on the hope that as in 1950 - and as in 1776 - the unfancied Americans can defeat the might of the British Empire.
The thing is that we expect to beat Mexico, at least anywhere outside of the Azteca. We don't expect to beat England. We as Americans are so used to dominating sports that the events we really remember are the rare ones where we were the underdogs. The 1980 Miracle on Ice is probably the best example. There were Cold War overtones but what really made is special was that a team of American college boys defeated the might of the Soviet Red Army. The best example I can recall from my lifetime was the 4 x 100m Olympic relay from the 2008 Olympics. Everyone fancied the French to win it; the French swimmers themselves said they were going to "smash" us. For a long while it looked like that prediction would come true until Jason Lezak somehow pulled off the fastest relay split in history, winning by a split second and presenting us with the glorious sight of the French team in tears of bitter defeat. In my apartment you could hear my neighbors cheering and jumping around; my parents told me that the victory brought people into the streets to celebrate. The recent improbably defeat of Spain and the narrow defeat to Brazil at the 2009 Confederations Cup certainly ranks among these.
A lesser-known but perhaps more impressive example is the famous 1-0 victory over England in the 1950 World Cup, retroactively labeled the "Miracle on Grass." I strongly recommend reading Geoffrey Douglas' outstanding The Game of Their Lives, describing how a bunch of part-time second-generation immigrants managed to overturn the mighty England in Belo Horizonte, Brazil. These are the events that stand out to Americans because they are so uncommon. We all have fond memories of the 1992 Olympic basketball gold medal and the "Dream Team." But when you compare that - Michael Jordan and Larry Bird beating up on countries that barely even knew what a free throw is - to a rag-tag bunch of teachers, mail carriers, and dishwashers defeating the likes of Stanley Mortensen and Sir Tom Finney, beating Croatia 117-85 for the gold seems somehow hollow.
There are times when I feel disappointed that America as a whole has yet to embrace the "beautiful game." Yet I also know that should it become as popular as the "Big 4," then we would be expected to dominate the game the way we dominate other international sports. When that happens the burden of expectation will rob us of that glorious possibility of overcoming the odds and recording what is referred to in England as a "famous victory." As it stands, this game still feels like the battle between colonizer and colonized, of Inventors of the Game vs. Emerging Soccer Power.
Ironically, as I write this I'm sitting at Wimpy eating a full English breakfast. But I'm also clad in the 1950 USA World Cup jersey, fervently believing that we can win this game. There are footballing reasons to think this is possible - England are traditionally slow starters in international tournaments and they have suffered injuries to important players like Rio Ferdinand and Gareth Barry. But perhaps I am just relying on the hope that as in 1950 - and as in 1776 - the unfancied Americans can defeat the might of the British Empire.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Vuvuzela Nation
Greetings from Johannesburg.
If you've been following the build-up to the World Cup, you may have heard of the controversy surrounding vuvuzelas - the plastic horns that South African fans are very fond of. They are controversial because, in short, they are LOUD. More that one hundred decibels. According to the announcer at the game today, they're as loud as a chainsaw. Thus, some players and coaches are concerned about playing in stuadiums containing upwards of 60,000 of them. Now that I've arrived here, I can confirm that the vuvuzelas are not as bad as people have predicted.
They are a million times worse.
Look, it's annoying when they're on TV, and I'm sure that they will be annoying when I am in the stadium. The thing is, they are EVERYWHERE. When my flight landed at 6:30 in the morning, people were already blowing on them at the airport. By 8:30, the airport was deafening. On the streets, you see guys hanging out of cars blowing them. People are blowing them in the supermarket. I'm really, really hoping they'll put them away long enough for me to get to sleep.
If you've been following the build-up to the World Cup, you may have heard of the controversy surrounding vuvuzelas - the plastic horns that South African fans are very fond of. They are controversial because, in short, they are LOUD. More that one hundred decibels. According to the announcer at the game today, they're as loud as a chainsaw. Thus, some players and coaches are concerned about playing in stuadiums containing upwards of 60,000 of them. Now that I've arrived here, I can confirm that the vuvuzelas are not as bad as people have predicted.
They are a million times worse.
Look, it's annoying when they're on TV, and I'm sure that they will be annoying when I am in the stadium. The thing is, they are EVERYWHERE. When my flight landed at 6:30 in the morning, people were already blowing on them at the airport. By 8:30, the airport was deafening. On the streets, you see guys hanging out of cars blowing them. People are blowing them in the supermarket. I'm really, really hoping they'll put them away long enough for me to get to sleep.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Live From Hong Kong Airport
Well, I've returned to Hong Kong with a 5 hour layover before my flight to Johannesburg. I also think I'm getting sick. Don't tell the airport. They are very, very paranoid about disease in this part of the world. Heat cameras check your temperature as you enter airports and museums. signs in hotels warn you to consult the staff if you are feeling ill. I'll see if I can find some Tylenol after I write this entry.
After absorbing so much culture over the past few days, I decided that I deserved a little pampering on day 3 in Taipei. I booked a massage at the Spring City Resort, which is part of a complex of spas on a natural hot spring in northern Taipei. Walking around Hong Kong and Taipei, you actually see lots of cheap massage places, but I am always wary of these. My concern is that they are mostly dedicated to massages of the illicit variety, which I don't want, and thus the masseuses will be underwhelming in the area of actual massages. One thing was for sure: I was not going to visit the shop I saw on my Taipei map, which advertised "Special Massages For Businessmen." Yuck.
This resort was great. It started with a relaxing dip in a private hot tub. The full-body massage lasted 70 minutes. At first I was concerned that my dainty little masseuse wouldn't be strong enough to work out the kinks brought on by a solid week on my feet, but she proved me wrong. I also sampled some excellent Chinese food at their restaurant. The lamb with orange sauce was fantastic.
Following the pampering, I headed to the National Palace Museum. I think this place would have been fantastic if I had gotten there earlier; as it was I was rushed because I got there an hour before closing. Honestly, I need to stop walking everywhere. It's good exercise and it's cheap, but it frequently takes longer than I expect, even if I don't make a wrong turn somewhere - and with my sense of direction, that's a distinct possibility. Heading home, I met a very nice Taiwanese family who had spent 6 years in Houston. They spoke better English than your average Texan.
I called it an early night so I could get to bed early and see some things in the morning before my flight. Unfortunately, I overslept and only made it to Taipei 101, formerly the tallest building in the world until Dubai won that particular pissing contest. When I bought my ticket for the observation deck, the woman advised me that due to poor weather the outdoor observatory on the 91st floor was closed. I told her that was fine; I was probably too chicken to enjoy it anyway. I don't mind flying, but being outside in a tall building just makes my knees quake. The views were impressive though and there was lots of good information about the building and about Taipei itself. I was glad to leave though; maybe I was being paranoid but I swear I could feel the building swaying in the wind.
I caught an airport bus near Taipei 101. It had been threatening to rain throughout my stay in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and the heavens finally opened up right after I got on the bus. This subsequently slowed traffic and made catching my flight a bit tighter than I would have liked, but everything was fine in the end. After disembarking and receiving yet another Hong Kong passport stamp, I reclaimed my giant suitcase from the left luggage department and got to the task of balancing out my bags so I wouldn't have to pay anything. The checked bag squeaked under the 25 kg limit but my carry-on is making an absolute mockery of the 7 kg limit. Shhhhh.
I suppose it's time to wrap this up. I still have a lot of time to kill so I'll try to dispose of my remaining Hong Kong dollars at Burger King. I was planning to drink about 3 beers before boarding to make sure I sleep through at least part of the THIRTEEN HOUR FLIGHT, but my impending cold may have halted that plan.
Taipei photos will be up soon.
After absorbing so much culture over the past few days, I decided that I deserved a little pampering on day 3 in Taipei. I booked a massage at the Spring City Resort, which is part of a complex of spas on a natural hot spring in northern Taipei. Walking around Hong Kong and Taipei, you actually see lots of cheap massage places, but I am always wary of these. My concern is that they are mostly dedicated to massages of the illicit variety, which I don't want, and thus the masseuses will be underwhelming in the area of actual massages. One thing was for sure: I was not going to visit the shop I saw on my Taipei map, which advertised "Special Massages For Businessmen." Yuck.
This resort was great. It started with a relaxing dip in a private hot tub. The full-body massage lasted 70 minutes. At first I was concerned that my dainty little masseuse wouldn't be strong enough to work out the kinks brought on by a solid week on my feet, but she proved me wrong. I also sampled some excellent Chinese food at their restaurant. The lamb with orange sauce was fantastic.
Following the pampering, I headed to the National Palace Museum. I think this place would have been fantastic if I had gotten there earlier; as it was I was rushed because I got there an hour before closing. Honestly, I need to stop walking everywhere. It's good exercise and it's cheap, but it frequently takes longer than I expect, even if I don't make a wrong turn somewhere - and with my sense of direction, that's a distinct possibility. Heading home, I met a very nice Taiwanese family who had spent 6 years in Houston. They spoke better English than your average Texan.
I called it an early night so I could get to bed early and see some things in the morning before my flight. Unfortunately, I overslept and only made it to Taipei 101, formerly the tallest building in the world until Dubai won that particular pissing contest. When I bought my ticket for the observation deck, the woman advised me that due to poor weather the outdoor observatory on the 91st floor was closed. I told her that was fine; I was probably too chicken to enjoy it anyway. I don't mind flying, but being outside in a tall building just makes my knees quake. The views were impressive though and there was lots of good information about the building and about Taipei itself. I was glad to leave though; maybe I was being paranoid but I swear I could feel the building swaying in the wind.
I caught an airport bus near Taipei 101. It had been threatening to rain throughout my stay in Hong Kong and Taiwan, and the heavens finally opened up right after I got on the bus. This subsequently slowed traffic and made catching my flight a bit tighter than I would have liked, but everything was fine in the end. After disembarking and receiving yet another Hong Kong passport stamp, I reclaimed my giant suitcase from the left luggage department and got to the task of balancing out my bags so I wouldn't have to pay anything. The checked bag squeaked under the 25 kg limit but my carry-on is making an absolute mockery of the 7 kg limit. Shhhhh.
I suppose it's time to wrap this up. I still have a lot of time to kill so I'll try to dispose of my remaining Hong Kong dollars at Burger King. I was planning to drink about 3 beers before boarding to make sure I sleep through at least part of the THIRTEEN HOUR FLIGHT, but my impending cold may have halted that plan.
Taipei photos will be up soon.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
If You Go Carrying Pictures Of Chairman Chiang
One thing I've learned in my time in Asia is that sometimes the countries and the leaders we consider "good guys" haven't been angels. Park Chung-hee may have revolutionized South Korea's economy, but he was an authoritarian dictator who suppressed dissent by any means necessary. Chiang Kai-shek was considered to be an ally due to his anti-communist stance, but he ruled Taiwan via martial law for 26 years and was more concerned about his Quixotic dream of invading the mainland than about the fate of the native Taiwanese.
Similarly, propaganda was not limited to the Soviet Bloc. Some of my friends who grew up in Korea in the 1980's have told me that Kim Il-sung's legitimate anti-Japanese guerrilla credentials were downplayed in South Korean schools.
But if you're looking for propaganda, look no further than Taiwan Democracy Memorial Hall, dedicated to Chiang, a man who frequently circumvented term limits through a never-ending "state of emergency." This enormous monument to irony features a gargantuan bronze statue that portrays Chiang as a cross between Chairman Mao and Lord Buddha.
In the exhibit itself, there is very little mention of things that Chiang actually did. Instead there's a large collection of his possessions and pictures with other famous leaders. One interesting piece of propaganda was this map, contained in the mock-up of his office:
You'll notice one key word missing: "People's." "Republic of China" is, as mentioned yesterday, the official name for Taiwan and the name of Chiang's government-in-exile. This confused me until I noticed the below disclaimer:
No kidding.
Not all the exhibits were so serious. Check out this t-shirt, portraying Generalissimo Chiang as a cross between Superman and John Steed from The Avengers:
This, however, pales in comparison to what is quite possibly the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. I laughed for a solid minute in the gift shop. Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest postcard of all time:
If you want me to send this to you, you had better make me a damn good offer!
Pictures to be posted later.
Similarly, propaganda was not limited to the Soviet Bloc. Some of my friends who grew up in Korea in the 1980's have told me that Kim Il-sung's legitimate anti-Japanese guerrilla credentials were downplayed in South Korean schools.
But if you're looking for propaganda, look no further than Taiwan Democracy Memorial Hall, dedicated to Chiang, a man who frequently circumvented term limits through a never-ending "state of emergency." This enormous monument to irony features a gargantuan bronze statue that portrays Chiang as a cross between Chairman Mao and Lord Buddha.
In the exhibit itself, there is very little mention of things that Chiang actually did. Instead there's a large collection of his possessions and pictures with other famous leaders. One interesting piece of propaganda was this map, contained in the mock-up of his office:
You'll notice one key word missing: "People's." "Republic of China" is, as mentioned yesterday, the official name for Taiwan and the name of Chiang's government-in-exile. This confused me until I noticed the below disclaimer:
No kidding.
Not all the exhibits were so serious. Check out this t-shirt, portraying Generalissimo Chiang as a cross between Superman and John Steed from The Avengers:
This, however, pales in comparison to what is quite possibly the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. I laughed for a solid minute in the gift shop. Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest postcard of all time:
If you want me to send this to you, you had better make me a damn good offer!
Pictures to be posted later.
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