The internet is a scary place. You never know what lurks just around the next corner. One click and, bam, you get rick-rolled or spammed some life insurance. Still – with the proper guidance, you can find some marvelous sites. Here are a few of them….

The first two sites are admittedly not sport-specific. They are still excellent. Openculture has movies, TV shows, and books with a very tempting price tag: free. Yes, it is basically an online library with none of the hassle of filling out a membership card. You check out what you want. You enjoy it. That is all. The film section is fantastic and here’s a recently unearthed TCM clip contrasting Kubrick with Spielberg. You can follow them on twitter.

Brainpickings is also pretty amazing. The curator for the site scours the web for cool and creative collaborations. It has existed for 6 years, yet remains gloriously ad-free. A recent post does a great job of summarizing a recent Robert Levine book about balancing the nature of creativity with SEO churnalist sites that steal original content without giving credit. You can follow them on twitter here.

In the soccersphere, I encourage you to open you ears and give a relatively new soccerpod The Best Soccer Show a listen. The hosts, Jason Davis and Jared DuBois, offer lively and insightful takes on the news of the day and they regularly get A list guests, like me. And John Harkes. You can follow the show on twitter.

Soon to arrive sports website The Classical has some tasty preview articles. Be sure to subscribe to their RSS feed here and follow them on twitter here. Launch is scheduled for December. Stale chips be damned!

Also, we were sad to hear about the passing of Gary Speed this past Sunday. The Telegraph had a nice tribute section for him, albeit the section was originally poorly misnamed a “liveblog.” Ian of the excellent 200% had an insightful article on the perils of depression, including our collective failure as a society to recognize its symptoms or take it seriously. In Bed with Maradona had a nice post on Mr. Speed, as did FourFourTwo.

We also have a “Best of” eBook anthology for 2011 that is available on the Kindle for only a buck. Basically, I’ve selected my ten favorite soccer writings from around the web and put them in one nice place. My altruistic, artistic, and capitalist motives are more fully explained in the brief intro. Purchase here.

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.

I can feel your confused emotions. On the one hand, you are disappointed at the lack of ink on the game last night. Yes, I know, I know. In thirty years time, our grandchildren will ask us – “Abuelo/a, did you vote for Barack Obama?” And we will scoff at them – “nietito/a, let me tell you about a truly historical moment, like when the US beat Panama 1-0.” Still, I will let other poets etch their praises in stone for all eternity to appreciate.

On the other hand, I have written a delightful guest post at FistedAway. And the topic is truly something to celebrate – England’s heroic completion of the group stages at the Under-21 European Championships. Try not to let the salty tears of joy spill onto and ruin your new tablet computer.

At the critically acclaimed FistedAway I wrote a guestpost on England’s midfield dilemma. No, I did not regurgitate the decade-long lament of “Lampard + Gerrard = failiure.” Rather, I speculate on the alternative: what happens when the Three Lions can’t blame their failure on this midfield tandem?

Terrifying, isn’t it? Read here.

I won’t bore you with another mega-post detailing this FIFA crap. Just remember two things: 1) As long as FIFA gets (practically) free labor from players and shifts the burden of hosting to countries, then they will be a money-grubbing gang of crooks with no incentive to change. 2) FIFA is not a dictatorship, it is a 21st century kleptocracy ala Latin America where the forces of capital hollow out democratic mechanisms.

Now let’s look at what some smart people have to say. And, lastly, an idea.

Jennifer of From a Left Wing painted a picture of contrasts. On the one hand, Barcelona played an almost perfect game to defeat Manchester United. The Red Devils did not resort to hack-a-Xavi tactics, instead attempting an open game but getting ran over. In contrast to this defeated spirit of fair play, FIFA’s “internal investigation” of corruption reeks of a desperate political power play. It appears that Sepp Blatter only instituted this inquiry to run off his opponent and get his friends to clear his name. I doubt the suspensions of Warner and MBH will lead to expulsions. Pathetic. But fully expected.

The English FA recognized this election for an utter farce and is not voting in protest. MBH criticized the English FA for not voting. Then, he withdraw his candidacy after the corruption probe. Why? Well, as noted in that CNS article, the last man to challenge Sepp Blatter, IssaHayatou in 2002, at least retained his job and allegedly received a delightful $1.5 million bung to vote for Qatar recently. If MBH seriously challenged Blatter, he may lose his current perch….and the related graft. Can you blame him?

Granted, England’s abstaining from voting was more symbolic than functional. When you don’t vote in an election, you obviously lose your ability to influence it in a miniscule way. But given that MBH has withdrawn his candidacy, the no-vote was arguably even more symbolically powerful. It’s a nice little finger to Sepp Blatter and his era of briefcases full of cash.

Ian from 200 Percent detailed the “Warner allegations” and rightly points out – corruption is but a question of degree, not “if.” Ian points us rightly to ChangeFifa, a website with some good ideas for corporate government reforms. But how can we ever achieve reform with such a rotten center? There is hope. Just follow the trail of cash.

Brian from Sportingnews did some great leg work to track down and contact the corporate sponsors of FIFA. Some of them were willing to give a direct comment, but then came retractions. Still, for your records, they are ADIDAS, VISA, EMIRATES, and COCA-COLA. Since Brian’s article, Adidas and Coke have released statements expressing concern. So did the Emirates. But was that just PR? It seems so. But I also see an opening.

Here’s my idea: a consumer preference power play/boycott. In my last post on human trafficking in youth soccer, people rightly asked: what is the nuts & bolts solution? My vague response was “don’t settle for the superficial best product/cheapest price.” I’m still chewing, folks. But the FIFA dilemma has a simple response.

In Jennifer’s excellent aforementioned piece, she cites a concept called “interpassivity” made famous by Slavoj Zizek. Basically, everyday we make consumption choices with nary a thought. These choices add up big time. Corporations fight to turn us into amoral and unthinking zombies who consume. Hence, marketing. So I recommend some “inter-action.” In what form, you rightly ask?

While ChangeFifa has started a facebook and twitter to propose concrete reforms for FIFA, we also need to hit them where it hurts: sponsorships. Sponsors associate with an entity to sell products and establish good will with the public – we must flip this association on its head. And the marketplace offers plenty of lovely non-FIFA sponsor alternatives. Thus, here are a few general principles….

Instead of using VISA, prefer MASTERCARD. If you apply for a credit card or choose which one to use, choose the latter.

Instead of using COCA-COLA products, use PEPSI. If you drink carbonated beverages, opt for Pepsi.

Instead of using ADIDAS, opt for NIKE. If you are buying a new soccer ball, jersey, or cleats, then purchase Nike or Pumas.

And so on. This is basically a Fifa Sponsors Pledge.

Note: you could also simply not use credit cards, consume carbonated beverages, or buy sporting equipment.

I really don’t have the tech savvy or traffic to start a decent online petition. This is also more of a piggyback to changeFifa. Thus, if you know about online petitions and/or run a behemoth soccer site and like the idea, please spread the word. If enough people slightly tweak their consumer preferences, then these companies will take a major hit. And if there’s a Facebook page explaining why, then all the better. And if not, then at least no FIFA dollars-for-Sepp-diamonds will stain your next soccer shoe purchase.

Thus, I, for one, am going to heroically use my Discover card to buy a new pair of Nike cleats. And no more rum & cokes. Only rum & Pepsi. Viva La Revolucion!

So, FIFA and Interpol have united to crack down on match-fixing. Sepp Blatter is concerned that if money influences the game, then people will lose respect for the sport. Forget kettles. Forget pots. Let’s just all cover our mouths, contain our laughter, and fight the tears flowing from our eye sockets.

Done? Okay, now we shall imagine a world in which Interpol and FIFA get into bed together a bit too close. I answer the most important question: who’s the big spoon?

In looking at futbol and bung, Interpol’s greatest concern has to be structural: the concentration of too much power into a single person’s hands is a recipe for abuse. For example, there is a major problem with bureaucrats in many developing nations: bribes to get cedulas or other official documents are the norm, not the exception. Why? When you have a sliver of total power over something with limited transparency and accountability, the temptation to line one’s pocket becomes too great. This pattern repeats itself across the world and in different cultures (and chapters in human history).

Of course, I am talking about referees. They work with assistants, but ultimately one person calls the shots. What were you thinking about? Did you get distracted? Did you think of someone else? Stay focused!

Thus, the Interpol & FIFA alliance is perfect. Interpol is a government bureaucracy that is slowed down by due process, limited public funding, and various levels of decision-making. Conversely, FIFA has tons of cash and all its power primarily concentrated into very few hands. Yin! Yang! They are a delightful odd couple and I fully expect hilarity to ensue. But watch out bad guys! No match-fixing company (which does not pay appropriate election bribes) will be able to avoid the two-headed monstrosity known as Finterpolfa.

Of course, Sepp Blatter deserves lots of credit for a very astute business move: laundering his money through Interpol. This is especially brilliant. Nobody is going to trace money that is scrubbed by a law enforcement agency after being awarded in a grant program. Genius. Plus, the sum is small enough so as not to set off Interpol’s internal “money laundering” alerts. Which would probably be embarrassing if it were to happen.

The only lingering question is how much money from the grant will be allocated to 1) the Finterpolfa signal and 2) the Finterpolfa mobile. And we can only hope that Interpol never tries to trace the grant money. After all, if Finterpolfa ever turned its eyes on FIFA, all hell would break loose. I could imagine a team of super Finterpolfa Seals storming the FIFA compound in Switzerland, blasting through walls, pushing through Blatter mistresses, and ultimately finding hundreds of tapes of Blatter watching himself on television.

Sepp, huddled in a corner, would be mumbling “precious” and clinging to….

Ghana captain Stephan Appiah has complained about England manager Fabio Capello’s decision to rest key players for the friendly between the teams later today, according to the BBC. I must say, I really don’t get this. Doesn’t Appiah realise that the weaker the opposition, the better the chance his team have of winning? That is the point of football, after all! It’s much like the way Dr. Gumperteer weakened the previous proprietor of this space by being so awesome that a sale was inevitable. Small wonder Dr. Mr. Gumperteer, sir, is so adept at banner clickthrough maximalisation matrixing. Wake up and smell the winning, Stephen!

Fredorrarci’s own site has no banner ads. Pity him.

Everybody wants to paint Sepp Blatter as the bad guy. Despite the surging success of the last few World Cups, FIFA gets a bad rap. Why? Well, the organization certainly has plenty of “votes” and “committees” for important things. But sometimes function trumps form. Sometimes power exceeds and manipulates alleged checks & balances.

But Sepp is no dictator. He is just a kleptocratic despot. And FIFA is the country he rules with a not-so-hidden hand.

Allow me to make my case.

First, a dictator rises to power with a bloody coup. A despot rises to power via sham democratic tactics. Corruption never starts with a single individual. We can all look fondly back on the reign of Joao Havelange, who started the mutual backscratching love with International Sports & Leisure, a Swiss marketing firm that backed Sports Federation candidates and also, according to a Swiss investigation, bribed FIFA for lucrative contracts. For Sepp’s “candidacy” in 1998, he faced Lennart Johansson, a Swede of considerable integrity. The problem? Joao wanted to keep the perks of president.

Blatter had problems acquiring a nomination, but eventually enlisted Michel Platini to his “election team” and the French duly nominated him. Behind the scenes, Joao and Mohamed Bin Hamman of Qattar cut deals with African federations. And the election was won. At Blatter’s press conference, a reporter asked him about the Gulf funding allegations. Blatter merely replied “The match is over.” See? No dead bodies, just briefcases of cash. Very kleptocratic.

Second, dictators don’t hide corruption because they scare banks, whereas despots make half-ass attempts at sham accounting practices. A few examples from yesteryear. Sepp Blatter had as his right hand man Mr. Zen Ruffinen. But Zen was aghast at FIFA’s finances and created the infamous “Zen-Ruffinen dossier.” Based on that dossier, 11 members of the FIFA executive committee filed a criminal complaint against Sepp. Granted, the Swiss prosecutors dropped the charges. But Sepp ran Zen Ruffinen out of town, comparing him to Brutus, and then appointed Julio Grondona to take his place.

In the real world, FIFA, as a billion-dollar business, would open up the books to a review by a respectable accounting firm like Arthur Anderson, the business equivalent of a doctor’s check-up? But not in today’s world. FIFA only has an Internal Audit Committee. Guess who heads it? Franco Carraro, the Italian made famous for his role in the calciopoli scandal!

FIFA also is doing its own internal investigation of the recent World Cup-for-votes scandal. I predict we will only see a conclusion of innocence, if anything. Or it will be suspended. Or get placed right next to that Zen-Ruffinen dossier. Regardless, the half-hearted investigations reek of new rich kleptocratic despot. Fidel Castro would never stoop to such a low level as an “internal investigation.”

Third, dictators compel love and allegiance through force, whereas despots buy loyalty. FIFA displays all the graft emblematic of sham democracies. The Ortegas and Chavezes half-embrace democracy & capitalism, turning theoretical socialist policies into amiguismo of the most despicable degree.  An example from FIFA. Somalia has no functioning government, but they still got over $1 million dollars from FIFA in 2008. FIFA also provided Somalia a high level refereeing course in 2010. Somalia, not surprisingly, nominated Sepp for President this year. But a true dictator needs no nomination – he nominates himself or he gets the army on board. Sepp has to splash the cash to game the system. Very despot of him. Not dictatorial.

Fourth, dictators rise and fall, whereas a despot’s reign circles and circles in dizzying fashion, like a carousel on crack. Despite the allegations of bribery in his 98 election and the accusation of financial mismanagement by his former protege, graft lined the 2018-2022 selection process. Concrete examples: two African nations got busted by the English press for offering to sell their votes.

Odd circumstances: the WSJ reported that Qattar made a suspicious payment to the Argentine Football Association before the vote. Grondona kinda responded to the accusation, but ignored the substance & only laughed at the prospect the AFA was in serious debt. Newsflash – the AFA was in serious debt – they had to postpone a season less than a year prior!

Also, many suspected a Spain/Portugal deal with Qattar to “throw the game.” Pep Guardiola of FC Barcelona inexplicably became a spokesperson for Qattar, not his home country. Also, shortly after the vote, a Qattar foundation became a sponsor for FC Barcelona. And, ho hum, in May of that year FC Barcelona had to take out a short term loan to make payroll. Can you say d-e-b-t? And the Swiss started a criminal investigation into FIFA. Have we seen that before?

Fifth, a dictator will crush or scare off even a major company. A despot will take a hiding. FIFA tried to screw over Mastercard. There was just one problem: the business dealings concerned a relatively impartial and professional judicial venue – the United States of America. Obviously, one would see a federal judge favoring the US business. However, this pales in comparison to the privacy and corruption that line court rooms the world over. Fittingly, one of the key legal issues was “good faith.” The Judge ruled in favor of Mastercard, finding very little good faith on FIFA’s part. Can you imagine a similar ruling against Stalin in the Soviet Union?

Sixth, a dictator is killed by his enemies, a despot is done in by his friends. Mohammad Bin Hammam, the mysterious man from the Gulf who played  a suspicious role in Blatter’s 98 campaign, has decided he wants the FIFA perks for himself and announced his candidacy for President. The timing is perfect – every nation but two are mad at Sepp for the Russia and Qattar nominations. And I have a feeling that Qattar will back Bin Hamman. Plus, let’s not forget the payback – Blatter officially backed a Bahraini challenger to Bin Hammam’s incumbent Asian seat in 2009.

As Sepp pulled for the US over Qattar, he could sense his power over the corrupt FIFA slipping away. Before, the Gulf money bought him his seat. Now it was buying off his friend Grondona. And had him in its sights as the next target. Does Mohammad bring a hope for reform? Well, he did argue for Presidential term limits. But this idea went nowhere, was probably a revenge move vs . Blatter and also lacked credibility – Mohammad is on his third term as the AFC President. D’oh!

Thus, the next time you blab about Blatter being a dictator, bite your tongue. Then say “kleptocracy” five times really fast. No respectable dictator would be associated with this bumbling collection of….

It has been over a year since I either experienced the first-ever cyberhaunting or fell victim to an elaborate hoax by my readers. Or my younger brother. Or both. While open to interpretation, the fact is as follows: Ferenc Puskas contacted me via a Ouija board to ask for, ahem, a favor. Pandemonium ensued. Thus, I tread softly when mentioning the name of he-wh0-shall-only-sparingly-be-fully-named. I only half watched the latest Harry Potter film, but I caught the drift about horicruxes and resurrections and, well, I prefer to refer to the spiritual entity that haunted my house, PC, twitter, and wikipedia as “Pusky.” And I only invoke his presence in cases of crisis.

In fact, I’ve been avoiding Pusky for sometime. During the World Cup, I saw him haunting gchat, but immediately rendered myself invisible. Still, despite the awkwardness – how do you say “hola” after a year of silence to a dead Hungarian footballer that feasts on goat’s blood -  Grant Wahl’s self-nomination for FIFA president was a momentous occasion. I had to do something. FIFA has reached a crises point. And I needed otherworldly guidance.

But I wasn’t about to run to Pusky for help with my tail between my legs. Not at first. So, I bought a few tarot cards, some scented candles, and the Book of Thoth. My plan was to channel positive spiritual energy Mr. Wahl’s way and illuminate some lingering questions about his candidacy. Or so I thought.

A few nights ago, I sat cross legged in my living room and, at the stroke of midnight, lit a  few candles, opened the ancient text, placed it in front of me, pulled out my tarot cards, and began to read the cards. Or, rather, the cards read themselves to me.

Positive spiritual energy works in mysterious ways. The last time I contacted the spirits via Pusky, my weapon of choice was the Ouija board. Cloistered in a prairie mansion during the harsh winter, the slow and steady movement of the board reflected my heartbeat. However, now that I’ve relocated to a South Texas rancho and the warmth of spring beckons, seeping in through the windows, I decided on tarot cards.

Why tarot cards? Less suspense. Less build-up. You flip the card, you read the card, bam-bam-bam. Sorta. Maybe. Not really. The cards always give a superficial & immediate response, which I like. But they can still present a puzzle of interpretation, perplexing to the untrained eye. My questions about FIFA and Wahl pushed me in these paradoxical directions.

First and foremost, on a practical level, could one man make a difference on such a large structural problem? I have my own bias – as long as the World Cup gets free labor, like NCAA athletics, the bung culture will persist. Why drink responsibly when you’re driving another person’s expensive car? But the Olympics run the same show, and they have improved since Salt Lake.

Second, on a personal level, how can Grant Wahl cross the line from journalist to being a “player” in the field of his journalism? I experienced the same dilemma when I got haunted by Pusky and the handful of times that I exchanged emails with Jimmy Conrad. I tried to minimize and ignore both experiences, obviously not wanting to compromise my readers’ faith in my integrity and objectivity. But how can Mr. Wahl run a serious nomination campaign and keep writing for SI?

Second, have we seen this film before? Is this the making of another “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”? Will Grant become the FIFA equivalent of a freshmen House Republican, passing bills that everybody knows will die in Senate subcommittees? On the other hand, a journalist would value the most important thing lacking in FIFA: transparency.

With these thoughts buzzing through my head, I sucked in the sweet scent of the candles. I inhaled, held my breath, and then slowly exhaled. In uncertain times, we must look beyond our modern values and biases in order to scour the past for clues to our future. I shuffled the deck, laid out three rows of seven cards, and pulled out the first card. And my hand trembled.

The Fool? Really? But was I a fool for doubting the power of Grant Wahl to get a nomination, win the election, and change FIFA’s ways? Or was Grant Wahl a fool for believing he could make a difference? The Fool is perhaps the most powerful and perplexing of the tarot cards, either a very good or a very bad sign. But which? Perhaps the next card would provide me with more guidance.

And the next card was….the Ace of Spades! Surely this was a good sign? Right? I read and re-read my little tarot guide book, but found no conclusive answer. However, several people had told me to trust my own heart and intuition in reading cards, not relying on the written word. I felt the Ace of Spaces was good, but did my poker playing biases blind me? Perhaps the Ace, singular, represented Mr. Wahl’s lonely fight for justice. Was the Spade his penetrating knife of transparency?

So, like, two cards, and no clear answer. I flipped over another card, but was similarly flabbergasted. The Two of Hearts? WTF? Frustrated, I flipped another card – The Seven of Clubs? Poker again infiltrated my thoughts – seven/two off suit sucks. It is statistically the worst hand. Perhaps FIFA had reached an all new low with Sepp Blatter’s lgbt remarks and the bribe-laden selection process last year? Or Grant Wahl would get dealt an impossible hand to win?

I picked up the tarot cards and placed them back into the deck. This backdoor spiritual stuff was simply not working. I had to resort to the next best thing – gchat. Gchat with Pusky. I would enter the haunted cyberbelly of the beast. I let the candles burn out, closed and put away the Book of Thoth, and set the card decj on a shelf and out of reach from little hands. I slept restlessly that night, anticipating the next day’s task.

All day, I checked and re-rechecked and re-checked my gchat. Generally, the same characters appear. I suspect most of them have gchat on their phones, but could the others really be gchatting all that time? Regardless, Thursday evening, my spiritual prey signed on.

I waited a few seconds, just to be sure. Sometimes people only sign into gchat to check their email, and then they immediately sign out. On a few occasions, I’ve sent them a nice hello, but end up with egg on my face as the dreaded-gray-outline-window appears. I waited a few minutes, my heart rattling my chest. Pusky was logged on. Pusky stayed logged on. With a click of a mouse and the typing of a keyboard, I sent a saludito. And waited.

A year is a long time. So much had changed since our last encounter – my residence, my job, the site re-design. I also had no clue about Pusky’s whereabouts – for all I know, he could be back in his native Hungary, haunting an old mansion converted into a bed-and-breakfast. I assumed he had gone to South Africa due to the soccer and abundance of goat’s blood. I typed in an awkward introductory greeting that shan’t be repeated on these pages, but Pusky responded! And I went straight to the point….

Oh that sardonic Pusky! I read a lighthearted feeling into the remark, imagining him on his blackberry or iphone, laughing while reading my question. However, I was blinded by my own optimism. I asked another pointed and direct question – did Pusky support Grant Wahl? And Pusky….

He dodged the questions. He kinda….kinda blew me off. And I understand – as an apparition that may be potentially burning off sins ala Hamlet’s father, he has stuff to do. He has goat’s blood to drink. But did you see the “…..” line? Pusky paused. Pusky thought. Most importantly, Pusky did not say no. Nor did he kiss the rump of Sepp Blatter.

And that is a form of support, albeit indirect. If Sepp Blatter can push FIFA to create a special award in honor of Pusky, and Pusky doesn’t support him, then it’s a sign of the times. The backscratching, the favors, the quid pro quo – even a dead Hungarian footballer apparition can see fact from fiction.

Pusky did kinda hurt my feelings – you’d think five minutes of his time wouldn’t kill the guy. But what he revealed helped to illuminate the tarot cards a little bit. In summation, I’m hoping the jokes on Blatter, and Wahl’s Ace of Spades cuts through the FIFA 7-2 offsuit like a hot knife through butter….

The hero’s journey often is a quest for identity. Part affirmation, part reconceptualization, we must struggle to define ourselves from cradle to grave. In the latest Pusky series, I revealed little but the question remains: what makes this site special? I recall this site’s infancy, when I planned on covering every inch of the bodies of the US men’s national team. No, not in the kickette sense. Rather, in the fitness component. Was a player nursing a sprained ankle? Sore hamstring? Could we count on Tony Meola being matchfit for the usa game? Maybe! And you heard it here first!

I planned on naming my site matchfitunitedstatesofamerica, but another blogger beat me to a similar domain. No worries, I reasoned, I would shift focus from the physical to the mental. I would write detailed analysis of the tactics in games, like Santapelota but daily. Did Rafa Benitez have an amusing goattee? I wouldn’t care – I’d only look at his team’s appalling zonal marking on setpieces. In fact, that name rang a bell. But once again, another talented writer beat me to the punch.

So here I am, stuck between David Beckham’s ACL, Jose Mourinho’s 4-3-3,  and Mario Balotelli’s fingerhat. I dropped my old site moniker of “a unique perspective” in favor of “breaking soccer news.” Pun aside, I felt it more accurate. But then I had a realization. It dawned on me that I do something better than almost any other soccer blogger out there. What? This. Micro. Pawnage. GGNubcake. Yes, that’s right, nerdery. Nerd-it-up. So, in honor of this nerdosity, in glorification of pocket protectors, I present my magnum opus, just in time for Christmas: the Italian national team viewed through the world of Starcraft. Enjoy.

So, let’s start with the obvious. The Terran are not the bum-rush Zerg. Similarly, the Italians deploy a spider’s web defense. They advance methodically in possession, but only react quickly to an obvious opening. In sum, they like to score either on their own earned setpieces, or capitalizing on an opponents’ setpiece error.

Who is the loyal and easily mobilized marine? Definitely Zambrotta back in the day and Maldini wayyyy back in the day (94).

Light on their feet but enough battle armor to withstand a few nips from a zergling, you’d love to have them at right or left back. Granted, you need more heavy duty badboys for a Protoss Zealot, but every piece of the puzzle has its place.

And speaking of the central component, the choice for a Battlecruiser is beyond obvious. Central defenders Alessandro Nesta and Fabio Cannavaro (of a few years ago) dominated the air with the greatest of ease.

While Fabio has gone onto a Middle Eastern payday, in search of resources way off the map, Nesta has inspired a resurgence at Milan. Just when you think the Protoss have you cornered with diamond fields depleting, a counterattack presents itself. Nesta chests down the corner and launches a vicious, sweeping movement.

And who would be in the middle of the attacking forays? Who stays away from the goalmouth but commands the action with long range passes that appear missile guided? Currently, Pirlo is clearly the siegetank of the bunch (perhaps someday Montolivo).

Perhaps a bit labored in movement and best with both feet set, Pirlo continues to spray passes over forty yards. He also has a handful of goals from that distance. CRon’s shots may be better on a good day, but nobody has more good days than Pirlo – even at his advanced age.

And who has the speed of wings to scout for the battle cruisers and siege tanks and marines? Who can distract the Protoss with darting runs? Who can dance toe-to-toe with the Zergs? Back in the day, nobody played this role better than Mauro “Wraith” Camaronesi.

Currently, the aging Argentine-born winger has been beset by injuries. Del Piero once blew by defenses and scampered around midfielders, but his best days are also behind him. Who can step in to avenge the wraith of the azzurri? Cassano lacks the first step and Di Natale the attitude, but Rossi may hold the key and be the needed crafty and elusive forward-winger of the future.

Regardless, the Italian’s formula for success is pretty simple. Allow me to translate their gameplan into Starcraft-speak:

9 Depot :52

13 Barracks 1:59

13 Refinery 2:20

15 Orbital Command 3:06

16 Barracks 3:14

18 Refinery 3:53

10MenDefendBehindball 5:00

10MenDefendBehindball 15:00

10MenDefendBehindball 25:00

10MenDefendBehindball 45:00

10MenDefendBehindball 55:00

10MenDefendBehindball 65:00

2MenCounterAttack 75:00

10MenDefendBehindball 90:00

……AND VICTORY!!!……