The soccer world sheds a tear for fans, players, and civilians that lost their lives in Egypt a few days ago. Many much better equipped media outlets and more knowledgeable folk reported on the incident and shared their thoughts. Here’s some of the essential reading:

Last Wednesday, in the Egyptian city of Port Said, fans of rival soccer clubs fought and 73 people were killed. It was pandemonium – players were also attacked. The police did next to nothing. Recently elected Parliamentary members blamed the military for allowing the violence to escalate. Many fear that the military will use the bloodshed as a pretext to justify “law and order” ordinances and stall the democratic transition. Others also blamed the security for not thoroughly frisking fans before allowing them to enter. The Egyptian league has since suspended operations. (NY Times)

James Dorsey points out that there was plenty of smoke before the fire. The two rival fans had clashed during the same game in the same stadium last year. Also, before the match, the rival fans tweeted hateful and threatening messages to one another. On a political scale, the well organized and often violent Egyptian fan clubs, known as ultras, have continued to oppose the military’s prominent role in Egyptian life. On the other hand, the Egyptian public has grown sick of protests and just wants a return to stability and economic growth. Dorsey asks – did the Military allow this violence to try and drive a wedge between the ultras and the public? (Turbulent World of Middle Eastern Soccer)

In light of the violence, protesters took to the streets throughout Egypt. Among them was Bob Bradley, the current coach of the Egyptian National Team, and his wife. Bradley’s show of solidarity was welcomed, and his remarks focused on his empathy with the victims’ families. Whether his comments were irritatingly apolitical or intelligently tactful, I’ll let you decide. (Dirty Tackle)

Sophia Azeb examines in depth the history of Al Ahly S.C., explains the Ultras movement and its anti-colonial beliefs, and ultimately concludes that the fighting in Egypt should not be labeled a “football riot.” In contrast to fascist Ultras in Europe, Al Ahly S.C. and other soccer groups consistently rejected the Mubarak strategy to use sport as dope for the masses. They have been pro-democratic reforms. Sadly, Mohamed Aboutrika, a player on the field and prominent public figure in the revolution that toppled Mubarak, was attacked and thereafter announced his retirement from soccer. Shortly after the violence, a truce  was made between supporters of Al Ahly and Zamalek, the supporters group of rival club Al-Masry. Obviously, there’s more at stake then just games and goals and kicks and fouls.  (Soccer Politics)

Two players for Al-Masry have noted the unusual inaction of the police. For example, one player who watched the game from a nearby cafe reported that he saw armed thugs walk by police. Conspicuously, the steel exit doors for Ahly supporters were locked shut. Several were trampled to death. Spectators claimed to have heard the police egging on the violent Al-Masry ultras. (Guardian)

Many commentators have speculated as to the role and action/inaction of the military. However, these conspiracies bring to mind “Two Sides of Perversion” by Slavoj Zizek. Basically, in our minds we strive to explain our existence by a divine entity. We attribute order to that entity. Nevertheless, we often overreach in our daily analysis, and project conclusions based upon circumstantial evidence. Many asserted similar conspiratorial claims against George W. Bush in the aftermath of 9/11. Obviously, the military needs to be held accountable for failing to control the violence. However, if we assume the military’s omnipotence in our own minds, if we ascribe nefarious superpowers to them, if we see the military’s hand in all aspects of life from our hearts to our minds, then the military has already planted the seeds of collective submission. (Slavoj Zizek)

Recently deceased former Czech President Vaclav Havel wrote an essay titled “Power of the Powerless.” At the time, he was an activist and his concern was the communist regimes that swept across Eastern Europe. He noted that the greatest power of dictatorships was civic isolationism. Fear, distrust, and separation allowed regimes to splinter the civilian population. Nobody trusted their neighbor. Anybody could be a spy. However, this fog of fear masked the harsh reality: an impotent state that could never truly defeat an informed and united population. Thus, Vaclav called for the formation of informal civilian associations, based on hobbies. His belief was that these interactions would build bonds of trust among citizens, tearing at the heart of the dictatorships’ fear-mongering. As applied to Egypt, the Ultras (and online social communications) played a large role in the protests and bringing down Mubarak. The great threat now is that the military will dissolve those associations, fear will prevail, and democracy will suffer. (Vaclav Havel)

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is on sale for under $5 at Amazon for a limited time. Check it out here.

Puebla FC is a professional football club. It is based in Mexico. USMNT player Herculez Gomez played for them. Currently, DeMarcus Beasley plays for them. In the US, teams go belly up and enter bankruptcy. In the UK, they enter administration. In Mexico, things are a bit more gun ho – due to a recent tax dispute between the state and federal government, the Mexican Federal Government seized Puebla’s stadium, equipment, and even their coach bus.

The Federalis even went so far as to mark the bus with the dreaded SAT sticker of death. As somebody who has personally been excluded and marked by vicious, clicky, and sticker-loving grade school children, my heart goes out to the Puebla FC fans. Read all about it with your Google Translator here.

And you thought Harry Redknapp had tax problems.

Regular blogging, if such a thing exists, shall resume in a week or so. Until then, enjoy this Kaka-related guest post of mine at the excellent Fisted Away.

(Via Reddit & DeMarcus Beasley)

Get the Best of Futfanatico 2011 for only $1 here.

Don’t you just hate those arrogant, talented, supremely handsome Americans? Me too. Well, this American had the pleasure of writing for and speaking with some friends from across the Atlantic, and the results were marvelous. At least in my humble imperialist American opinion.

First, I penned a piece for the excellent 200 percent. My topic? The endless carousel of 4th division “professional” soccer teams in South Texas. Corruption. Graft. Mirages. Unpaid wages. When the franchise system and poverty collide, the results are catastrophic. Enjoy it here, assuming you enjoy the macabre.

Second, I have an article forthcoming for the nascent Spiel magazine, a Liverpool-based football & lifestyle magazine. You can check out a PDF of the Preview Issue here. You gotta pay for the issue with my article though (which is due out in two weeks). My article’s topic? The lingering mirage of rugged individualism that we foolishly use to characterize Ronald Reagan’s Presidency & Hugo Sanchez’s playing career at Real Madrid. It is so 80′s it hurts and, if you are a guy, while reading it your shoulders will swell in size and your hair will grow curly and long.

Lastly, and slightly more stateside, I had fun with DC-based Mirit and UK ex-pat James Tyler at Nutmegradio. We got our podcast on and I answered some very personal questions, like if I prefer Fakefutfanatico to Fakerfutfanatico. Listen here, if you dare.

Nothing breaks the heart like a candle whose flame is blown out by the wind. Noted actor Joey Lawrence’s career burned with promise and brimmed with energy. From the very first episode of the late 90′s TV show Blossom, audiences fell in love his “whoa” and looked forward to decades of avant grade artistry. Sadly, his pioneering role on network television never provided a springboard to success or serious scripts worthy of his talent. His career stalled due to mysterious factors. We look back at his promise and shed a tear. In the darkest realms of the soul, his “whoa” echoes within each and every one of us.

Just like in the case of Player Y.

Do you remember when Player Y scored that wonder goal against heated rival in his senior team debut? Sure, Player Y had scored quite a few goals at the youth level – an ungodly amount, truth be told – but nobody anticipated he would put his best foot so far forward so fast. It seemed like all the Angels had congregated on a single cloud, leaned down toward the Earth, extended their fingers to his forehead, and touched Player Y with an infinite amount of talent.

But God had other plans. Defenses caught onto his direct approach. Player Y never quite mastered the art of passing to teammates or shooting from distance. Defenses backed off and, with no space to run into, Player Y plodded aimlessly instead of plowing through opponents. He ended his first season with a double digit tally of goals, but April and May were barren months. Still, we held out hope.

Then came the injuries. Toes. Knees. Ankles. Metatarsals. Despite being only twenty something, his body mirrored an American car at the 150,000 mile mark. Some cruel devil had prematurely spun Player Y’s body’s odometer during his sleep, and the tires couldn’t stand the slightest of kicks. He handled the recovery poorly. He blamed his team’s medical staff. he lashed out at reporters who questioned his commitment. As the limelight veered away from him, he struggled in the shadows.

Player Y eventually moved to a foreign league. Then, after a few years, he returned to a quality European league but signed for a mid-table club. He never warmed up to his peripheral role as club ambassador/elder statesman/super sub. He scored some goals in worthless cup matches, but was restricted to five minute run-abouts in games even remotely important. His mind melted. He cut his hair. Crow’s feet appeared on the side of his face overnight. He talked about maybe coaching someday.

Yet in an old chest in the attic of your parents’ house, Player Y’s poster rests. Mothballs ward off intruders, paper turns yellow, and dust gathers, but his smiling face recalls a fall full of possibilities and a spring of discontent. Your heart beats, your eyelids flutter, but your mouth inadvertently emits a sigh and a cough. Whoa.

Images: Copyright NBC Broadcasting, Inc.

If you blow into the Ocarina, then you will find a link to the past. However, no matter how hard you blow into your respective Kindle, PC, iPad, or cell phone, you are stuck here in the present with me. Don’t get too depressed now, because I’ve put together a neat list of link-worthy footy topics for your consumption. Bon apetit.

Not all summers are pleasant. In 1998, a young and optimistic US team went to France with hopes of advancing out of the group stages. Instead, they lost all three games, scored a single goal, and came in dead last. Some blamed luck, some blamed the coach, and a decade would pass before the truth about a curious omission would come to light. Re-live the tears. (In Bed With Maradona)

As promised, I wrote about three great new sports websites & ePublications: Grantland, the Blizzard, and the Classical. Check out my quirky curriculum to help you evaluate which site fits your personal tastes best! (The Footy Blog)

Here is Part Two of my series for FoxSoccer on Hispanics & US Soccer. It’s basically a critique of tokenism/affirmative action and also a pretty please to not expect my ethnicity to turn the US program into Spain anytime soon. (Fox Soccer)

This will probably blow your mind, but I am not the only person who writes about soccer. In fact, one of my favorite articles of the year was written by another person on another site. The premise? That Arsene Wenger could easily solve Arsenal’s rightback problem with a Golden Corral franchise. (The Short Fuse)

This is probably the saddest soccer story of the last month. South Africa tied their qualifying game and celebrated, assuming they had qualified for the African Cup of Nations. However, they were mistaken. The tie-breaker was head-to-head games, not goal difference. D’oh! (Washington Post)

In terms of podcastery, after much anticipation, Jason Davis and Jared DuBois finally debuted the Best Soccer Show. It is part of the North American Soccer Network, will be on twice a week, and is definitely worth a listen, if not an iTunes subscription. Find out more here: (Youtube) Or follow on twitter (Best Soccer Show)

Also, in the audio consumption department, if you are not listening regularly to the Total Soccer Show podcast, then it’s your own fault. And if you have never heard of the “Wikipedia Game”, then it’s time to re-consider that condo you live in on Mars. Seriously, imagine Jeopardy but soccer-specific and therefore you have a chance of winning. (Total Soccer Show)

Also, the players at UNC-Asheville are pretty good at soccer. However, this video shows they are even better at Angry Birds. I just salivate thinking about Ronaldinho attempting to play this real-life-soccer version. (Youtube)

Lastly, this was a great week here at the site. We published three posts on Monday-Wednesday-Thursday, just like we always do. Care to re-live the greatness of this experience? Of course you do. (Futfanatico)

Since mankind painted the walls of caves, we have struggled to capture the immensity of reality in brushstrokes. At the most basic level, a painting or image will simply mirror real life. A family portrait, a postcard – these superficial reproductions serve a purpose, albeit limited. However, every once in a while inspiration meets perspiration meets talent. Sometimes, a pictorial creation transcends reality to not just replicate it, but communicate profound understandings of both reality and ourselves.

When ESPN debuted their new red-own-goal icon a few weeks back, it was one of those moments. Since then it has proliferated, appearing in both the Ireland European Cup qualifying game and the Brazil-Mexico friendly. But what does this little red soccer ball say about us?

Since the Roman empire, red has always been associated with Mars, the planet and God. That is to say, red can mean love and war, peace and hate. Red represents two sides of the same passionate emotional coin. Red provokes rage in bulls but also taints the blood that flows from our body. Red is a powerful color. Red is destruction, but destruction due to our own human frailty. Soeth is they Own-Goal Icon.

Not convinced? Well, let’s take a glance at some other places where we’ve seen this ESPN Own-Goal Icon or similar images before…

Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey
Did you find Hal from 2001 kinda creepy? Even before he killed a few of the astronauts and tried to lock out another? Why? Well, he definitely had a Microsoft Mr. Paperclip vibe about him. And you got the feeling that perfection could run into a perfect loop of a shit storm. Just as defenders fight to get a foot or head to every cross in the name of the defensive mission, Hal took any means necessary to advance his own shuttle. Yet perfection applied to an imperfect world is a recipe for self-destruction.

A brief transcript of the Ireland-Armenian game:

-Open the Armenian goal, Hal. OPEN THE GODDAMN ARMENIAN GOAL!

-I’m sorry, Robbie Keane. You got injured playing for the LA Galaxy. I’m afraid this mission is too important to….
Creepy Verizon Droid Bionic Ads
Nowadays, the young people like to trot about with super computers in their pocket. They play Angry Birds instead of paying attention to adults, but rest easy at night – the radiation will hopefully render their genders a mutilated mess by their mid-forties. Assuming the brain cancer doesn’t kill them.

What has led them to hold small beeping cancer boxes so closer to their ear? This.

Yes. I don’t get it either. This is the future, what the world will look like when our bodies have long been frozen next to Joe Dimaggio’s. The winking red eye seduces them, the promise of instant gratification too great. If David Luiz spent a bit less time texting, perhaps his vision would be clearer when trying to cut out crosses. We all see Death before he takes us; some just stare at him cross-eyed.

The Eye of Sauron

I’m not a big fan of Hobbits or three hour movies or trilogies when the second film just kinda repeats the first one. Yet, as painful as those films were, nothing quite burns the eye like watching 90 minutes of effort evaporate due to a defensive miscue. Was Sauron worse than Morgoth? Is an early own-goal worse than a late own-goal? These are the riddles that puzzle philosophers and ate away most of your youth spent sifting through used fantasy graphic novel bins and comicons.

Sauron’s eye was emblazoned on his warrior orc’s shields and helmets because his own sentry dared not utter his accursed name. Even to this day, Colombians tremble at the mere mention of the term autogol. Brutal images of US ’94 snap into mind. When Frodo saw the eye, it was a yellow slit and the pupil was a window into nothingness. Yet in soccer, the red eye of the Gamecast Icon is a window into eternal sporting damnation. Ye dare not stareth too long….

The Masque of the Red Death

In Edgar Allen Poe’s short story, the rich protect themselves as best they know how – cloistering themselves far away from the poor and hollowly paying lip service to the conventional god of the day. Yet, despite their efforts, one by one, the Red Death comes to them as a stranger and leaves them as a killer. Similarly, no matter how many times a team practices set pieces or defending crosses, the prospect of self-destruction lingers.

As you watch the game, probably from work, you flinch as you click re-fresh. You immerse yourself in the match to forget the toils of the day. Yet, deep down in your heart of hearts, you dread and fear and anticipate that little red ball appearing. Then, horror of horrors. The Gamecast play-by-play is a few minutes behind, but you already have seen the red writing on the wall. The dot of Mars sears your eyes and leaves a profound mark on all it touches.

Less they be damned….or own a smartphone.

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on the Amazon Kindle for only $5.99. Check out a free preview here.

We’ve heard a lot about the digital media revolution and the impending doom of traditional print sports journalism. But in my country, Canada, there is a winner emerging, an old familiar friend that not only refuses to leave your home, but is presently raiding the fridge, asking if it’s okay if he takes the last Labatt Blue wedged in near the back. That’s right, I’m talking about AM Sports Talk Radio. And there is no sport better covered by our mic-inhaling shock jocks than the sport of soccer. You see, with the advent of MLS in Canada, especially with the addition of the Vancouver Whitecaps to the league, many print journalists are under the delusion that soccer and hockey can peacefully coincide in this country. That’s because writing is an inherently reflective exercise, which gets you bogged down in nuance, considered argument, and shades of grey. Thankfully, we have AM radio stations there to present off-the-top-of-your-head talking points, designed to get rush hour traffic victims riled up and angry about a sport they know or care little about and that poses zero threat to the dominance of the NHL in this country. Whenever the sport of soccer comes on, be prepared to be told that “we’ve been here before” and that the “NASL failed” and therefore “more people care about curling in Canada.” This is essentially all you need to know about the sport and all you will ever hear. Thank the AM dial’s little miracle: the microphone, CRTC license, and a group of insecure middle-aged men who will never be able to play the sports they believe they know everything about.

Richard’s website also lacks sufficient banner ads.

Song Credit: “I am bored” by the Microphones

The end of the transfer window presents a paradox for the “thoughtful” blogger. On the one hand, as writers, we mercilessly mock the larger sites for publishing slipshod paragraphs based on run-of-the-mill gossip; on the other hand, as fans, the inevitable feeling of exuberance and possibility overwhelms us.

We could easily set up a binary category of “reason” vs. “emotion” in which our heart dreams of Madrid signing Fernando Llorente while our brain knows Florentino’s checkbook has been closed since August. Such fantasies make the trophyless seasons bearable, the days pass quicker, and the roses smell sweeter. Our serious mind scoffs at such fanciful bemusement.  Yet as with all black and white constructions of morality, shades of gray dot the landscape.

I shall defend good-natured and reasonably well researched transfer rumors the only way I know how – by arguing it is distinct from celebrity gossip.

Many people blame the explosion of celebrity (and transfer) gossip on the advent of the 24 hours news cycle. However, this arguably confuses the chicken for the egg – would news thrive as an industry if there was not already demand for constant consumption of information? For centuries, we’ve demanded desert before and after dinner. Now, thanks to technology, the newspapers give us desert before and after dinner. We grow fat because of our preferences, not the scribes fresh out of journalism school.

Still, celebrity gossip has always troubled me. In grocery aisles across the world, individuals glance at headlines detailing fictional text messages between ages ago divorced celebrity couples. I can’t fault humans for wanting to see a personal side of their famous acting heroes. But all the dirty details? Additionally, the tugs of the heart don’t excuse the failings of the mind. Many staged celebrity interviews and events stretch into unfathomable incredulity.

And I used to consider soccer-transfer-rumors as belonging to that same steaming pile. After all, didn’t Rooney and Sir Alex play all media outlets like a fiddle to make/save a buck? Was the #Guardianfail any better than your run of the mill Charlie Sheen rehab report?Also, while other bloggers have ogled over the reporting capacity of media outlets, underlying this “race to publish” is a philosophical view of knowledge-as-limited-resources. The desire to “scoop” can trump considerations such as voice, logical reasoning, and credibility.

And the 24 hour news cycle plus the internet have killed the scoop. Newspapers used to be published once a day, so if your competitor got a great story, you had to wait 24 hours to publish your follow-up. Those days are long gone. Sure competition still exists. However, the NYTimes wikileaks reporting shows collusion between three major newspapers to coordinate the sorting and posting of information. Monopolistic concerns aside, why didn’t they run like wild to publish first?

So, in this era of the no scoop (or the scoop measured in pageviews and milliseconds), some outlets have turned to well reasoned and coherent articles. Others, however, have hired photographers to stalk celebrities 24 hours a day. In the soccer context, many outlets latch onto any coach quote or hint of player unhappiness to tout a sensational headline.  I used to not see any difference between the journalistic ethos of the two. Celebrity gossip was transfer rumors. At any time, Charlie Sheen and Steven Gerrard would get into a fight over a Phil Collins song at a nightclub under Stamford Bridge only to resolve their differences at a slumber party in Manuel Almunia’s haunted Liverpool mansion.

But now I realize the difference. While a celebrity’s personal life only marginally affects his or her acting, the comings-and-goings of players are the lifeblood of a team. Without talent, your team is going nowhere fast. Still, I find food metaphors fitting for the different degrees of journalism. For the unconfirmed, offhand comment story, I think of a Twinkie. For the credible sources story, I think of a cupcake. You won’t die on a diet of either, but you also won’t live well. Come transfer deadline day, we all eat more Twinkies than we should. But some Twinkies magically turn into cupcakes.

So yes, you can forgive yourself for last Monday and Tuesday’s tummy ache. But Heaven help you if you stuff more than a Twinkie a day into your face on a regular basis…..