Me: question in Danish with heavy American accent.
Danish guy: answer in English.
Fail.
Monday, June 14, 2010
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.
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