John Terry has outdone himself, even by his own pathetically low standards. We have a saying in America: three strikes and you’re out. Well, John Terry first shagged teammate Wayne Bridge’s significant other a few years ago. Strike one. This past weekend, he allegedly uttered a racist comment at Anton Ferdinand. Strike two. And strike three, you ask? It takes the cake. It shocks the conscience. After all, his earlier indiscretions have some semblance of an explanation. Everybody can understand that in training, sometimes things get heated and players need to cool off with an other-wife-shag. Everybody can understand that in a game, sometimes things get heated and players exchange racial epithets. That’s just the way things are.

But strike three has no similar excuse. John Terry gave his solemn word to attend a pet shop opening in Surbiton. And what happened in Surbiton? Hundreds of kids had their heart broken. Why? Cold-blooded John Terry didn’t show up.

Take a deep breath and picture all those little eyes, full of tears. Envision little Luke, eagerly getting up and waiting in line all day in the hopes that his purchase of a lizard would be blessed by John Terry. Imagine sprightly Elizabeth, spending all week dreaming of John Terry being present for her first ever Iguana spending spree. But there would be no lizard purchase blessed by John Terry. Elizabeth would get her Iguana a hot rock, but it would somehow seem cold and not plugged in. But that freezing feeling was John Terry’s own heart, not the not plugged in and recently purchased hot rock.

Of course, John Terry has categorically denied any commitment on his part to be in attendance. Newsflash – when you are accused of such a serious offense as failing to attend a pet shop opening, 100% of accused folk deny guilt. Who would want their good name to be stained by such an accusation? Instead, these despicable slums twist the truth and try to tip the scales of justice into a game of he-said and pet shop event coordinator-said. It’s a classic failure-to-attend-petshop-opening defense tactic. Thank you, Johnny Cochran. If the pet shop coordinator event date and your personal calendar don’t fit, you must acquit. Balderdash!

I can just hear the criminal-loving, armchair sociologists regurgitating their “blame the family, not the individual” argument. Yes, John Terry’s parents had some run-ins with the law. Yes, his dad may be a drug-dealer. But even drug-dealers have a shred of honor. If they didn’t, then they’d lose business or probably get killed. Or at least that’s what happened in that Denzel Washington film about the ghetto I once saw. So, conclusively, stop faulting John Terry’s family for his own failings. These pet store attendance issues must be chalked up to Terry and Terry alone.

And I don’t even want to speculate on how his non-appearance has hurt the actual pets themselves. My heart is too weak. Do you know how many baby turtles are born to hideous baby turtle-mills and must either be sold within weeks or sold as food to gourmet restaurants? No. Really. Do you? Because I would like to know. And because John Terry’s non-appearance has probably indirectly led to a decrease in foot traffic and therefore baby turtle sales at this Surbiton store.

And the real victim is little Raphael Donatello Leonardo, the baby turtle who just wanted a loving home, but instead will find himself in a boiling pot of water…

Sleep well tonight, John Terry. Look at the face of the real victims. Do their frigid reptilian eyes mirror your own? MURDERER……..

Hello and welcome to your favorite new television program – EMEYAE (Extreme Makeover English Youth Academy Edition)! We are so excited to see you! Basically, after the new EPPP guidelines were passed, a lot of people got angry. Local communities felt threatened that the free movement of individual youth labor would leave them devastated. However, the brilliance of network Television offers a silver bullet and all kinds of odd sounds called a “laugh track.”

First things first, EMEYAE has led to a reform of the EPPP and we’ve pulled the weed up by the root. Basically, capitalism as a system pits individuals against one another, leading to collective action problems whereby our rational self-interests aggregate to global catastrophes. For example, let’s assume I’m a Manchester City fan. I buy a ticket to a game. No worries, right? I watch a game, I enjoy myself, end of story. But, what happens when I buy a season ticket? Or, worse, when my neighbor also buys a ticket? Well, then, collectively, unknowingly, we’ve financed a lovely local club for the plucking by Qatari oligarchs. And it gets worse – these foreigners then buy foreign talent to populate the team and also to attract foreigners watching on TV! What could be worse?

The only way to stop this rock from rolling down the hill is to eliminate individual autonomy. The old English Youth Academy geographic limit kinda served this purpose – players under a certain age had to train at an academy close to home. However, this limit didn’t go far enough. Thus, EMEYAE has inspired a revision of the EPPP that bans transfers of individual players. Yep. Big clubs will have to either buy entire academies or nobody. No more cherry-picking, God be praised! Now, just to answer any lingering doubts, yes the Professional Player Agents’ Association did propose this rule change. However, no money or lobbying per se occurred. This rule was amended in the interests of the players, academies, and local communities. If the agents happen to get a windfall, so be it.

EMEYAE, though, has personally guaranteed a windfall for affected local communities in the most entertaining way possible. With live camera footage, of course. That’s right – for every mega-club that buys an entire academy and plucks that town or city’s talented youth from their roots, that mega-club must….send their first team to the town to paint, remodel, and convert the youth academy into an orphanage, animal shelter, or youth crisis center!

What could be better? Mega-clubs get their superstar, mid level players get to train with the best coaches, and local communities get refurbished orphanages, animal shelters, or youth crisis centers. And TV audiences get wonderful prime time entertainment! It’s win-win-win-win. Only rival networks lose, ziiiinggg! And I can think of quite a few orphans that would love to live at the freshly painted Ipswich Center for Runaway Youth. Did I mention that Michael Carrick himself personally rolled up his sleeves and sanded the trim around the new front door? He certainly has a promising handyman career after football! I hope Fabio Capello was watching!

Of course, thus far EMEYAE has not been all smooth sailing. Nani did hurt himself with a hammer, confusing it for a cosmetic enhancement device. However, Ryan Giggs enthusiastically screwed just about anything in sight, even if Rooney couldn’t keep a grip on his nuts. The initial screen tests show that TV audiences truly & fully appreciate the efforts put forth by Manchester United to compensate for the tiny fixed monetary payment United exchanged to the academy to kidnap a big chunk of the town’s youth. And the Ipswich Center absolutely screams re-birth with those lovely new curtains!

Like all great television series, EMEYAE has its boo birds. Many of these folks want the most talented members of their community to be shackled by the lottery of birth. In a nutshell, they feel that other members of the community benefit from regularly interacting with these “shooting stars.” What they don’t realize is that these shooting stars have dreams, dreams of being an astro or maybe some day a comet. And only by shooting alongside other shooting stars can they become an astro and maybe one day a comet. And to the shooting stars, the surrounding community feels like a buzz killing black hole at times.

EMEYAE would never want to say anything decisive that may offend potential viewers or sponsors. However, surely we can agree that it is visually pleasant to see a shooting star shoot alongside other shooting stars.EMEYAE allows this to happen, but only if astros come and moderately improve the shooting star’s original galaxy. And those astros also take care of all the shooting stars from that galaxy, not just the star that shoots the best at a particular moment. To sum things up – EMEYAE is pro shooting star, pro galaxy, pro astro, and pro comet. And pro TV ratings.

Be sure to catch the next episode when Didier Drogba and his power drill turn a “f’ing disgrace” of a youth academy into a lovely volunteer-ran Goodwill store!

(H/T to Terry Duffelen)

We live in strange times. On the one hand, being poor sucks. Every Bulgarian champion needs a helping hand and a TV payout from UEFA helps, no matter how small. On the other hand, nobody likes Kool-Aid with too much water. Dilution concerns us. Tang leaves a bitter and putrid taste in the mouth. Plus, Europe’s elite desire to face off against one another. The aristocracy demands a debutante ball with sufficiently dashing and deep-pocketed suitors. And everybody loves a spectacle of excellence. Which is why I found today’s Champions League fixture utterly pathetic.

Here’s a quick rundown of how the teams fared in their own leagues last year:

• Manchester City-3rd place EPL,
• Villareal-4th place La Liga,
• Napoli-3rd place Serie A,
• Bayern Munich-3rd place Bundesliga,
• CSKA Moscow-2nd Place Russian Premier,
• Trabzonspor-2nd Place Turkish Super Lig,
• Lille-1st Place France Ligue 1,
• Inter-2nd Place Serie A,
• FC Basel-1st Swiss Super League,
• Otolul Galati-1st Place Romanian Liga I,
• Benfica-2nd Place Portuguese Primeira Liga,
• Manchester United, 1st Place, English Premiership
• Dinamo Zagreb-1st Place Croatian Prva HNL,
• Ajax-1st Place Dutch Eredivisie,
• Real Madrid – 2nd Place La Liga, and
• Lyon-3rd Place France Ligue 1.

Did you notice the distinct lack of first places? Only 6 of those 16 teams were “Champions” of their domestic league. We can surely agree that fact is problematic. Well, I have a few ideas on how to solve that problem.

First, and easiest, we could always just simply re-name the “Champions League.” For example, the “Champions, near Champions, and friends of Champions League” has a nice ring to it. We could even stretch the definition of the term “Champion” to include teams that have won domestic cups, like Real Madrid and Manchester City last year. However, I argue against this on practical grounds and in principle.

In a nutshell, coming off a recent global economic recession, it’s simply a waste of money to ask the proud and dignified Champions of Romania, Otolul Galati, to, for example, fly a team to Madrid to play a group game against a second place team. The carbon footprint from European competitions has got to be horrific. If anything, the true Champions, Otolul Galati, Lille, Ajax, Dinamo Zagreb, Manchester United, and FC Basel, should have a month long spa resort/futsal kick about in a Swiss Alps resort town. Champions deserve rest. And coddling.

This is the point where you scream about European integration and economic redistribution. Blah. Blah. Blah. If you want to run an elite club competition, you have to exclude the riff-raff. Augusta National does not have blank membership applications in the lobby. I understand that trimming the fat may hurt the perpetual third and fourth place teams, but will anybody really miss watching Robin Van Persie getting injured in the quarterfinals? And I’m sure, even without the Champions League TV money, Arsenal can milk some new real estate deal to make ends meet.

And here’s an even crazier idea. What if, to protect players’ health by reducing games, the Champions League was truly only champions and went straight to an NCAA style home-and-away elimination tournament? The mouth waters at the prospect of a heated, passionate, do or die clash between FC Basel and Dinamo Zagreb as early as October! The TV ratings would surely shoot through the roof. And Barack Obama’s bracket could be the PR olive branch to finally re-energize Nuclear disarmament talks with Russia.

Now, I know your response. Even the Olympics has a pity-party at the end and allows 2nd & 3rd place to stand on a podium with the Champion and show off their ugly-colored medals. We could easily arrange a similar event in this “True Champions League.” At the closing ceremony after the very last game, the second and third place teams could have their own exploding ticker tape/photo-shoot op. Granted, the ticker tape color would vary based on placement. For the Champions, they’d get a proud color like purple or gold. For the other places, they’d receive something hideous like magenta or fuchsia.

Of course, I wouldn’t watch the losers flaunt their not 1st place medals, but I’m sure somebody would.

So, I have a two-post series at FoxSoccer about the US, and US soccer, and our twisted, bizarre, schizophrenic, and bipolar relationship with Mexico and Mexican Americans. I give Fox credit for letting me be candid, honest, and frank about both sides of the equation – I address how and why Hispanics have been somewhat excluded in the current US setup. I also speculate as to how they can be un-excluded. In the end, I’m optimistic about the future, so don’t go call BP and give them my IP Address just yet. Part 1 is available here.

However, the US vs. Honduras game presented a related & pressing topic not addressed in those posts. I speak, of course, about the banter about “Can the US play a home game at home?” Basically, how should we deal with complaints that the stadium composition for US games against Latin teams is “too ethnic” and there’s no “home field advantage.” Is it true? Is it a genuine problem? Or does the framing of this “problem” reveal deep-rooted prejudices?

I’m really just gonna shoot from the hip on this topic because 1) I’m still deciding myself how I feel, and 2) Your input & perspective have just as much to teach me. Please comment. Unless, of course, you hate America. Which you say you don’t but your frequent trips to go shopping in Europe suggest otherwise. Buckle up & here we go.

I’ve always objected to US “B team” friendlies against Central American teams on one simple ground: we are prostituting the team or, in marketing parlance, diluting the brand. Yes, it’s good to give some up-and-comers a few games, but ultimately many of these games are to fill US Soccer coffers and little else. My friend Tahir has pointed out that making a buck is not a crime. True. But soccer is more than a business. At least it should and can be.

Other people, who I shan’t name because I don’t believe in shaming, voice concerns about the lack of “home field advantage.” Simply put, lots of ethnic (read: brown) people show up and speak in “foreign” languages (read: Spanish). Ironically, this very discourse and its premise form a part of the prejudicial cycle. By categorizing these fans as “the other”, we as Americans force them to cling ever closer to their country of their birth. And I have to ask – is it just a coincidence that there are only white stars on the American flag?

On the other hand, it would be nice for Brek Shea to be able to take a corner kick without being called hijo de puta and getting pelted by packets of urine. When you play at home, you expect some love. I can understand this. This is a valid immediate concern. The only problem is that this situation springs from a fundamentally flawed view of America as English-only and white ran, with bountiful professional athlete jobs for blacks, engineering gigs for Asians, and some janitorial positions for Hispanics. Does that caricature offend you? Or resonate? Or both?

In sum, is America a caste society? Should it be? If it is – how did we get here? Is American identity static and forever tied to English, the language of our Constitution? Should the US only play home games in Columbus, Ohio or, better yet, ban brown people from USMNT home games? I hate to lump soccer fans whom I respect into the same mental box as segregationists from the 1950′s, but separate-but-equal feelings of uneasiness pervade the American soccerscape. Hell, they pervade America.

Short-term, Jason Davis and J Rodius of the Best Soccer Show have echoed my calls for people to go out to US games and support the team – fill the stands with your concept of America if you are really worried about fans from El Salvador. If dual citizens are taking over the stadium, buy more tickets! More importantly, and mid-term, glance at the stand-shots in Miami of the fan celebrations after that sweet Dempsey goal. How many Hispanic faces do you see in red US shirts? Quite a few, actually. If you want to see more, then try not to subtly push people into boxes.

Chew on those thoughts, please comment openly & honestly, but don’t spoon feed any of that PC white shame nonsense. Contemporary structures of exclusion require willing participation by all parties. A few years ago, I saw a prominent African-American professor speak about “racialism” and “racialist speak.” Basically, today, for the most part, the vestiges of prejudice lurk in our subconscious, and only by openly acknowledging them and articulating them can we hope to conquer them.

I tried that in my Balotelli post in January. And now it’s time for US soccer.

We like to paint the world in perfectly ordered opposites. On the one hand, as an American, I have grown up with the cold familiarity of the franchise sports model. Here’s how the cookie crumbles in the States. Basically, a businessman (or woman) who has made billions in selling chemicals or prescription drugs hits middle age, gets bored, doesn’t want to start a foundation, and picks a small Midwestern city to inject with happiness and PR via a sports team. Everything’s rosy until the owner refuses to pay transfer fees or salaries, the team sucks, talk show radio hosts call for perpetual coaching changes, the team drifts into the red, and another Midwestern city’s economic development board beckons with tax breaks.

Then, divorce hits. But the team marches on, usually with a new stadium, logo, and name. From a business standpoint, it’s a helluva model. But as already duly noted, the nomadic qualities appear more vulture than trees. And surely things with roots, like trees, have value?

At the opposite end of the spectrum lies the fan-controlled and operated club. In Spain, both Real Madrid and Barcelona technically fit this bill. Fans vote for the President of the club. Last year, my “FC Distrust Supporters’ Trusts Trust” series mocked folks who believed that more fan-ownership in England would be a panacea to rampant debt problems: hello, Barca and Madrid wage tabs, I argued.

But there lies a weird and winding path between. Let us venture to this nether realm.

Despite trophy-filled years, many local (read: English) Manchester United fans hate their clubs’ American owners, the Glazers. Why? Well, the form of their takeover, a leveraged buyout, hinted at corporate raiders gone wild. The personal loans indicated that the club was more of a piggybank than a long-term investment. Ominously at the onset, they de-listed the club from the London Stone Exchange (LSE), presumably to keep the club’s books away from regulatory disclosure requirements.  The green-and-gold campaign clamored for a solution: more fan ownership.

And what has happened? Ironically, more public ownership: United appears on the verge of filing an IPO, ie, selling stock to the public. Of course, they are not re-listing on the London Stock Exchange, but rather at that bastion of transparency, the Singapore Stock Exchange. The rationale: tapping into the growing Asian market. The reality: a quick cash injection with a quite light regulatory burden.

Yet the ownership style which angers opposing teams’ fans is at the other side of town: City. The great risk for the Blues is that their Sheik owner will get bored, sell the club at a loss, and leave behind huge debts and crazy wage bills. Unlike the risk of corporate raiders at United, City poses a different situation: the owner as a transient consumer, rather than a fan. In American baseball, George Steinbruner shelled out tons of cash to turn the Yankees into contenders, yet nobody doubted his dedication or commitment – he was competitive as hell and had an emotional investment in the club. The Sheik has no such credibility.

The EPL has also shown that globalization is not necessarily a race to the bottom. Yes, a fan in London can buy a cheaper Chelsea kit because it’s made in Bangladesh. However, for intangible, unique and limited products, like viewing a concert or soccer game in person, the entrance of millions of new hungry consumers has pushed up prices. Just as the Chinese middle class has kept American soy farmers busy and profitable for the last decade, new Manchester United fans from abroad have pushed up ticket prices almost beyond an average UK income. This is not a race to the bottom, but a race at the top which squeezes out the middle class.

And the parties responsible, you ask? Well, Financial Fair Play and the Premier League’s “Fit and Proper” ownership test have failed to turn the tide in the Americanization of the EPL. Billionaires have really good accountants, businesses all over, and will report losses and profits in the country of choice. UEFA has…Michel Platini, the protege of Sepp Blatter. Sadly, everyday the EPL looks more and more franchised, more commercial, and has not strayed from its amateur roots, but now inhabits a different planet. What could be worse?

Well, the vulture global elites playing with our clubs is disheartening, but the populist duopoly in Spain could collapse the clubs like the Soviet Union at any moment. Hiding debt in Spain is very fashionable at the moment, which is terrifying – because the debt on the books at Barcelona and Real Madrid is staggering. But wait, these clubs are democratic, right? Shouldn’t their fans have the clubs’ long-term interest at heart? Well, let’s take a test – read a couple forums. Count how many people complain about not winning the most recent game. Now count how many people worry about long-term financial stability. Question answered. Pure populism is not the answer.

Which, of course, brings us to the Bundesliga. The league has great attendance, is highly profitable, and has a combination of populist/elitist elements. As Terry “Duffman” explained for Pitchinvasion, clubs must be owned by the fans in a 51% share. This gives enough discretion to the elite (managers, owners, players) to do their job, but is not a carte blanche that would allow corporate raiders or international playboys to do too much damage. How did this system develop? Corporate benevolence? Ha. Rather, the cable TV collapse hit the Bundesliga before anyone else.

Survival is the greatest motivator of all. Which is why you should expect nothing to happen for now. In the near future, the EPL can allure investors with neat powerpoint global revenue growth projection presentations based on some infamous and eternally untapped Asian population. Real Madrid and Barcelona have extraordinary cash flow and debt that, while large, is mostly unsecured/passive. What does that mean, “passive”? In a nutshell, no used car dealer is about to take back the team bus. At worst, some bank CEOs who signed promissory notes may get pissy and not invite Perez’s daughter to their own daughters’ cotillion ball. With unsecured debt, the cancer dies with the patient. Hence, the cancer wants a long and painful period of terminal illness.

Thus, there is no loaded gun pointed at soccer’s head. However, clubs are slowly digging their own graves. From an ethical perspective, fans must decide if clubs are a tree with roots that have spread the branches too far, or accept the reality that our clubs are fish that have sprung legs and left the ocean of our love. Practically, the Germans offer hope in a mixture of populism and elitism. But the path is uphill for now.

Lo and behold, you may have noticed this fine blog’s hibernation during the summer. Why do we do that? Well, few games are played. Most European leagues take off May, June, July, and August. Thus, the news cycle slows to a crawl except for a unique species of sports writing: the transfer rumor. Many have criticized the lackadaisical journalism behind such rumors. The uncorroborated reports often rely on multiple hearsay: Joe heard from Jane heard from Jake. The papers then publish the dubious proof as a conclusion of conviction in the article title. I prefer an extended hibernation to jogging on this treadmill of misinformation.

However, these criticisms overlook a simple truth behind transfer rumors: people gobble them up. In troves. Why? I speculated that the transfer rumor succeeds because of human beings’ optimism – all fans want to hear about a big signing by their beloved club. Like an unopened gift, within the box of poorly timed press releases lurks the occasional fantastic find. Also, the dubious proof lends itself to intrigue of its own making – who are these almost mythical behind-the-scenes actors who truly control our clubs’ destiny? Anticipation. Unexpected surprises. Intrigue. These draw the public eye to transfer rumors.

The Cesc-to-Barca transfer has no such defense. Why? Because it is a transfer reality. A plodding transfer reality worse than any rumor.

It didn’t have to be this way- so ugly, so exposed. Roughly 15 months ago, triumphant homecoming headlines could have carried Cesc to Catalunya. Barcelona had just lost to Mourinho’s Inter in the Champions League and barely nicked Real Madrid to La Liga. They looked quasi-vulnerable, at least by their standards. Conversely, the Gunners did not win a title. Whispers turned to words turned to shouts. Could Fabregas be Barcelona’s answer? Was he a want-away star on a team lacking supporting talent?. We will never know, because that that moment in time, Arsenal held firm to their star prize.

Since then, some stuff has happened. Spanish teammates forced Cesc into a Barcelona t-shirt after the World Cup. The Gunners actually competed quite well until late February, and managed to beat Barcelona in one leg of their Champions League draw. And Barcelona quasi-comfortably pipped Madrid to the La Liga crown. They also thrashed Manchester United in the Champions League final. In sum, every conceivable positive spin headline for this transfer has been tossed out the window. Months ago. Yet the show went on, to our disgust, like a low budget straight-to-video edition of Halloween XXVI.

Why the disgust? Why the aversion to reality? Simply put, entertainment must contain at least a hint of unreality to keep interest. Cesc-to-Barca was as plain as Grandma’s jam. Barcelona spent big bucks on David Villa and Dani Alves. They also bought back Pique from United. Arsenal, under Arsene Wenger, loves to sell talent at a profit. They did sell Henry to Barcelona after all. Thus, unlike other fantastic transfer rumors, the Cesc-to-Barca reality made too much sense. Like a poorly written detective novel where the reader realizes the killer’s identity at the halfway point, we’ve watched this deal unfold with the anticipation of a route canal.

And that’s another major criticism: the rhythm of this transfer reality. A great transfer rumor will materialize instantly, the product of pixie dust and an unverified source. The Cesc deal has drawn out over a year for an all too practical and not preposterous-enough reason: money. Yet, to our disgust, the difference in asking and offering price was small by European club soccer standards. Neither side budged an inch as they wasted possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on jet airfare to negotiate in person, hoping to pinch a million.

Of course, not only the neutrals are aghast. My sincerest apologies to Arsenal nation. Arsene Wenger’s remarks about “cemeteries” and “feeder club” mask over a sad 21st century fact: a financially prudent club will struggle to win titles against over-leveraged or oil rich adversaries. And I wouldn’t hold my breath on UEFA’s financial fair play sorting things out anytime soon. Still, at least Ramsey and Wilshere have gained a year of experience.

And, of course, truth is relative. Real Madrid pursued Cristiano Ronaldo over two summers. However, unlike the oddly penny-pinching Cules, Perez took out a loan and paid a record for CRon. The first summer was painful, but  the second time around, the deal was consummated with speed and cash, like a respectable drug deal. At least Arsenal got several productive years out of Cesc, unlike Samir Nasri – whose pending transfer to City is a ‘transfer reality” disgusting for other reasons.

So there you have it – transfer rumors excite the senses with fantasy, but the reality of the Cesc-to-Barca deal slowly ground the fun out of life. At least it’s over. Cesc le vie.

Soccer is a man’s game. Soccer is a white man’s game. Soccer is a heterosexual white man’s game. These are the messages lurking behind the media, radio, blogs, and newspapers that saturate our universe. Almost out of sight, like a shadow they follow our every footstep.

And they are easily found in that notorious of locations, the “locker room.”

Physical locations both reflect and reinforce our prejudices. White flight in America led to a generation of bored exurb brats afraid of minority panhandlers, city skylines, and nightfall. During the 1950′s, abusive men latched onto the concept of “privacy” to deem marital affairs, ie, domestic violence, relevant to and only to be addressed “within the home” and behind closed doors. And, of course, slave-owners conceptualized entire races of human beings as chattel, not persons. The physical plane and abstract values can merge to horrifying perfection. They feed off one another. They reflect one another. And this truth hides just out of sight, but in plain view.

On a personal and lighter note, when I first arrived at my college in the United States, I was excited to meet my roommates in my dorm. I ever-so-eagerly desired to delve into affluent privilege, to complain about dirty dishes on desks, dirty laundry on floors, loud music, and everything else associated with living with almost total strangers. No separate sleeping quarters? Bah! That was the college experience. And it lived up to my expectations.

However, that summer, a good friend pointed out that, in many other places, university students always live in separate rooms, or at least separate sleeping quarters. Why? Privacy. My friend also pointed out that for individuals with non-majority lifestyles or orientations, such as LGBT, the room and sleeping arrangements at my school would have forced potentially disruptive & embarrassing disclosures. The problem would not have been a disclosure, per se, but rather that the physical structure would force its timing.

Societal pressure exerts everywhere on the underprivileged and yet, ironically, privilege can be invisible to those who have it. Privacy and physical locations can be swords and shields to advance and defend hetero-normative beliefs. And this can be seen clearly in the conventional sports locker room.

One of the unspoken rules of the male locker room is the open-aired suppression and/or marginalization of “abnormal” desires. The locker room isolates those within from society at large, forcing a small group to interact. However, within that group, few walls or barriers to sight exist. It forces a feeling of disingenuous intimacy, of close interaction that must mimic closely the dominant rules of society because everybody else is watching/not watching. In a sense, the locker room is a miniature Panoptic State, to use terminology from Michel Foucault, in which all social interactions can be watched closely and intensely to ensure full compliance.

Ideas, individuals, and others from outside the locker room are foreign and therefore wrong. A few months ago, a Mexican TV reporter experienced sexual harassment while in an NFL locker room. Of course the reporter brushed off the actions and I won’t put any words in her mouth or feelings in her head. But the catcalls and comments point to the idealized heterosexual male myth of the “boys only” room, where “guys can be guys” and a woman is “a chick.”

There is not a very well constructed argument for this locker room as “A Room of One’s Own” for guys. Rather, this locker room behavior eerily imitates the 1950′s domestic violence “household” concept – it’s a pretext to treat women like crap behind closed doors, to let privacy “empower” males and to dis-empower females. The underlying message, that males only act in conformity with feminist ideals in the public sphere, that they only begrudgingly treat women with respect if there’s a risk of being shunned, implies that within males naturally lurks a sexist pig. This sexist pig is the natural state of the male.

Yet is this closed and closely monitored private sphere the truly natural state? Or do the unique pressures exerted force otherwise decent human beings to act like pigs? Does this private quarter function like a town hall for a Southern city during the civil war, a launching pad for racist idiots to seek out their vocal like-minded peers and impose themselves on everyone else?

Privacy can be a sword & shield to advance sexist values. And also hetero-normative ones. If a respected female reporter with credentials cannot be tolerated in the locker room, then how can a homosexual male hope to survive in this toxic place? Take a step back and ponder – is that even the right question? Or is that the wrong way to ask the right question?

Many writers have asked this question: when will a topflight player have the courage to reveal he’s gay while playing? Yet the physical realm reflects and reinforces heterosexual norms, and conspires against any such heroics. My question is – when will we re-make the locker room?

And just to be clear, this “heterosexual normalizing” behavior is not a question of a gay teammate gawking at naked teammates. Rather, it also involves the daily jokes and a sense of humor predicated upon a simple assumption – male/male affection is the abnormal, a punching bag for laughter.

It seems like only yesterday I was posting my first thoughts via the tongue & cheek MLS Manifesto. The major gripe? As a Kansas City Spurs, err Wiz, err Wizards, err Sporting, supporter, I had grown up watching my heroes plod about in a cavernous and always empty American football stadium, Arrowhead. The move to Community America Ballpark, a minor league baseball field, was actually an improvement – I loved sitting on the lawn, glancing at soccer stats grafted onto a baseball scoreboard, and being super close to the players. You felt like you could hop the fence, push Davey Arnaud out of the way, and pump in a decent corner kick yourself. Even if I did joke about the stadium’s attempts at English-food eateries.

But those days have passed. Livestrong Sporting Park has opened. And here’s why that matters.

Sometimes sports writing digresses into a race to find-the-odd-angle. Well educated and competitive persons get connected to WordPress or, worse, a journalism degree, and it’s off to the races to see who can out-slant the other. FIFA is corrupt? Well, are they really? At other times, sports writing digresses into a follow-the-flock ocean of tediousness. How many of your favorite blogs now regularly post the same links among themselves? Cross-fertilization has turned into redundancy.

But that’s besides the point. No slant here. No brainiac battles. One word can describe my feelings as a hometown Kansas City Whatever supporter: joy. Nevertheless, Like a bastard child declared a rightful heir in a probate proceeding, my first instinctive reaction to the stadium announcement was to flash middle fingers at everybody within view.

Why?

For years, my friend Santi, his brother, some Argentines, and I were the cauldron before the cauldron supporter section even existed. We shouted obscenities in Spanish, we sang songs that nobody understood, and we did our best to fill Arrowhead with some rambunctiousness. If Kansas City’s soccer team was a plot of land, surely we had settled it first. Or so the thought process goes.

But the reality is that the game isn’t mine. The team isn’t mine. And my happiness does not spring so much from the recent shred of mainstream acceptance – far from it. Rather, I see something with my own two eyes that will last beyond me. I see a structure that I can touch and feel and smell. In a decades’ time, it will probably remain. More importantly, I see opportunity – for my young son and daughter to grow into chronically bored Midwestern adolescents, begging to catch a game because they’ve already seen every movie twice.

People will gripe about the current plodding “Wal-mart” model to MLS growth, but the pace and price of the NASL ran it off a cliff. The last decade has largely focused on the soccer fan, not launching fireworks to draw a fleetingly interested crowd. And now, my family and I can see the results firsthand. They are not spectacular. But they are special.

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!

Twice a year, fans turn their attention to the “just good enough” teams in their respective leagues. In the US, every March we glue our collective eyes to the first and second round of the NCAA tournament, when a slate of do-or-die games offers chances for an upset but also unceremonious exits. In May, the prospect of relegation looms like a guillotine for European soccer teams at the bottom of their respective tables. There’s just one problem.

Most of these teams suck. So why do we watch?

1) A Collective Media Conspiracy. Most of the time, the last game day of the European season offers few surprises at the top. Often, the champion has already accumulated enough points to field a ghost team. Sure, sometimes clubs duke it out for a “Europa league” slot, but that doesn’t exactly stir the pulse. Thus, perhaps we only watch because the media tells us it’s important. Maybe we only watch because “it’s what’s on.” When march madness sweeps across the US, one can hardly turn on the radio without mention of brackets and upsets.

So, yes the media saturates itself. It certainly is a cycle. But demand has to come from somewhere. Thus, perhaps….

2) People Go Slumming. After a season of carefully ironing your Fernando Torres’ Chelsea jersey on Friday evenings before match day, you decide to spice things up by lowering your standards. Most fans don’t know the geographic location of the NCAA first round teams or the European clubs facing relegation – Bucknell? Blackpool? Instead, like Eddie Murphy’s downtown LA sojourn of yesteryear, we rely on our instincts. The fact that we have never heard of this team adds to their “slum cred.”

Sure, every now & then a Cinderella will find a slipper that fits. This year, everybody wanted Blackpool to stay up in the EPL. Butler has similarly tugged at America’s heartstrings in the NCAA tournament.  But this is more Pretty Woman than royal wedding. The teams we watch lack transfer funds (or the NCAA equivalent of brand & facilities) and competent personnel. In a sense, they are beneath us. Yet we slowly lower ourselves down, hoping for a short but pleasant ride.

3) Some Love the Macabre. Some people adore gore. Relegation and NCAA games show an inordinate amount of footage of fans. Faces get covered in disgust, dismay, and despair. In the EPL, a hideous own-goal all but relegated everybody’s darling Blackpool. I turned my face away from the computer out of respect. But some people love to see blood spilled. And the absolutely terrifying image of Michael Owen scoring a goal (!!) soon graced the screen. Ugghh.

4) Love of the Underdog. This is the most optimistic explanation. And the least likely. At least in European relegation battles. In the NCAA, the one-off playoff gives every team a sling of a rock to beat Goliath. The do-or-die nature forces top teams to play each game with intensity or face an early exit. Thus, Americans cross our fingers, hold our breath, and pray for Duke to lose in the first round to Tuscaloosa State A & M. It rarely happens, but it’s possible.

Relegation in European soccer is the opposite. While the NCAA tournament gives every team a single shot to take down the elite, relegation pits the runts of the littler in a brawl for the last tit. The weakest three face an enormous drop in revenue. And here’s the diabolical part: while you may root for, say, Wigan, to stay up, that doesn’t translate to a love of the underdog. Because of the zero-sum nature of relegation, your love for Wigan translates to hatred for Wolverhampton (what did they ever do to you?). You’re basically the captain of a raft and picking which minion to not toss to sea.

And you love every minute of it.

5) We are Pavlov’s Dogs. Push the button & get your pellet.This explanation has the best sociological evidence. If you can call sociology “evidence.” Basically, Pavlov conducted a study whereby dogs were trained to associate a ringing bell with food. Similarly, the remote control, television, and now computers have conditioned us to associate media consumption and “being in the know” with feelings of pleasure. After all, communication can be condensed, but at some point you lose efficiency gains and we are just fucking pressing buttons to press buttons. Is twitter not the greatest ADD gratification concept ever unleashed?

This is a decent explanation, at least for people with addictive personalities. Who don’t like to go slumming.