I will keep this short and sweet in light of your overpowering and anxious anticipation of the coming Premier League kick-off.

First, Brian Phillips asks if we don’t appreciate Pele as much as we should. Brian draws upon two notions of hero – the all conquering good guy vs. the rebellious adolescent (Maradona). The point is intriguing and the comments, as per usual, are treats in and of themselves.

Second, FakeSigi asks if Brook at Dirty Tackle is sexist. Actually, the post is supposedly a retraction and apology, yet Sigi scoured Brook’s site to point at articles that treat women’s soccer as “accessories” by their flippant tone. However, does that flippant tone merely reflect the entirety of the site? Ironically, would Brooks treating women’s soccer and only women’s soccer more seriously be chauvinistic by treating that topic differently (ie, with “more care”, almost “gentlemanly”) than the rest? Read. And decide. And check out the comments.

Let’s play in the world of a constructed binary. The land of television is seduction. Images and sound combine to tempt you, seduce you, and entertain you. Helpless, you sit there, motionless. The flashing light leaves you still, like a deer in front of a semi on a back alley road in the dead of night.

Pause.

Welcome to reality. The sunlight burns your eyes and warms your skin. A gentle breeze caresses your neck. The feint odor of garlic abounds, flaring your nostrils. You are in your body. This is reality.

So what was the US game vs. Brazil last night? (more…)

Ahhh vacation, when the neurotic micromanage time into tiny tidbits not long enough to melt 24 hours into eternity. The American vacation, not necessarily synonymous with occupation of a foreign nation, usually revolves around “to do lists”, “guidebooks”, and breakneck walking as we try to see the Eiffel tower, the Mesquite de Cordoba, and the Coliseum all in one day. In sum, we need vacations from our vacation. And that time has come.

My original plans for this Premiership preview were quite simple – I would link to Brian who would link to Fredo. Last year, SIATS blew everybody’s collective mind by accurately predicting to the tenth degree every single Premiership fixture and 75% of the Cup thinger-ma-jigger-whatever(s). It was as if Nostradamus had broken the outer lens of the the Hubble telescope, turned it into a peace pipe, and graciously passed around some of that knowledge.

Alas, I am afraid it appears Bedorarrci has drugged the protagonist and I must carry Frodo to the promised land. With help from Kate Perry of course. So here you have it – a Premiership preview in terms of vapid pop songs that plagued the airwaves in the US of A. Or, alternatively, “how to improve mobility and decrease risk of cardiovascular illness your next stay-cation.” Vamos. (more…)

Guti leaves Real Madrid. For the casual fan, the question is: so what? Guti played the part of supersub for 15 years but little more. His record – most sub appearances in La Liga history – does not place him on the same pantheon as Di Stefano. But in a club that routinely ships their cantera players to mid-tier clubs, Guti was the exception. His leaving is a loss more in emotional terms than futboling concerns. So indulge us in some word-association games to commemorate the occasion. (more…)

So, the World Cup is over. The season is weeks away. However, for all the nascent capitalists and “managers in their own minds”, the open transfer season is a joyous occasion with the exuberance, spontaneity, and substance of a middle school dance. Wait, did somebody from Europe mention Landon Donovan’s name? Really? REALLY!!! I’ve got to visit the various sites and forums in order to confirm the substance of that unsubstantiated rumor and potentially post my own reflections on how it would forever change my life. For the better.

So, no. I am not Mister Manager. The gossip tales do not tug at my heartstrings. Press conferences and asides from overpaid agents do not make me salivate at the mouth. Why? Too much smoke. Not enough fire.

Except for this one. (more…)

So, as you may have noticed, the Junito posts have been a bit sparse around these parts. No, don’t worry, Junito has not relapsed into his love affair with jugando escoba. In fact, despite protests from the missus, the escobas have been banned from the house in favor of a collection of mops, dustbusters, and vacuums. A bit inconvenient? Yes. But as parents of the world’s future greatest footballer it’s just one of the many sacrifices to be made. Your welcome universe.

Truth be told, the long pauses have come about for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, I have come under a brutal attack from both the general audience and family members. Some people think its preposterous to predict that a three year old can ascend to greatness. The “naysayers” say too many things can  happen between now and five, when Junito signs his first professional contract. Of course, the old Brazilian refrain that the good looking boys get girlfriends and the ugly ones get good at soccer has a kernel of truth. Still, I managed to be dashingly handsome and decent at pelota, so surely Junito can just take things to the next level.

The more stinging criticism, though, from closer quarters, is not so easily dismissed. (more…)

So, yeah, the World Cup has ended. Some hated it. I enjoyed it. Of course, I took into account that no even can realistically live up to the hype as “the greatest and most entertaining” sporting event on Earth. Still, from the fluid counter-attacking Germans to the patient passing Iberians, this tournament was light years ahead of the catenaccio Italians and plodding French of 2006.  Yes, Zizou was amazing in the outrounds of that tournament. No, that did not redeem the other 31 teams or other games.

But enough of that, onto links and classic videos from South Africa 2010. (more…)

The end of the World Cup is like quitting smoking cold turkey, only you can’t cheat. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many old recordings you have of classic games, the sensation, the media overload, the frenzied tidal wave of live games cannot be reproduced. As the tournament progresses, the teams get eliminated, and the games get even tighter, you find yourself searching for an equivalent fix. But there’s no hidden pack in your car’s glove compartment. There’s no friend who you can bum a smoke off of. There’s just an old archive of youtube clips, a tome covered in dust wit a few words written about something that people back in the day thought was exciting.

Take a deep breath. And try to hide your disappointment. (more…)

So, for those of you who, like me, live in the post-television era, Univision has been streaming for free all the World Cup games. Mad props. They also are currently employing South American deity turned icon turned announcer Chilavert, known colloquially as “Chila” or in his inner circle “Chil.” Some call him “el emperador escupedor.” Based on these noble universal gestures, and a friendly email, I shared my thoughts on the World Cup final with those rambunctious ragamuffins. Hint, so did a few other bloggers. Check out our thoughts here. Another hint: can you say “Furia Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroja?”

Despite the parakeet, the octopus, and an assortment of other animals, only one entity can accurately predict the World Cup final: Slovenian philosopher and critical theorist Slavoj Zizek. We had a quaint chat with the man to wax Marxism, the Lacanian real, and Mark Von Bommel.

What he had to say will probably only confuse you, unless of course you obtained a doctorate from the European School of Philosophy. But not the University of Chicago – everybody knows those hacks just say really big words. Ahem. Now onto the interview! (more…)