Video credit: “Dancing Queen” by Abba

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.

Video Credit: Chris Farley, Saturday Night Live

Video Credit: Expert Village

After our last post on club ownership, some curious readers and tweeters have asked – what exactly is a “partial flotation” on a stock market? What does Manchester United plan to do? Generally, the Red Devils want to go public, but not as publicly as we’d like. They want cash, but not transparency. How can we tell? For starters, they have chosen the Singapore Stock Exchange, which has less disclosure requirements than the LSE. Secondly, I’ve glanced at a few recent Singapore IPO listings, brushed up on international finance 101, and brainstormed a few possible permutations for this alleged “partial flotation.”

Things do not look pretty. Here are the likely forms and results:

First Partial-Flotation Variation: Huckleberry Finn’s Raft

A partial flotation is a quick cash grab. You usually have a big but floundering parent company, and a studly subsidiary. The parent company sells a minority interest in the subsidiary looking cash in on “the good son.” This raises some cash but also a dilemma – how can a shareholder truly value this somewhat removed fraction of an interest in a spin-off? Uncertainty leads to volatility, like the choppy waters of the Mississippi in Mark Twain’s classic “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.”

The Glazer’s Singaore IPO certainly has shades of the escapades of the Duke & King from Huck Finn. The American owners have royally angered England-based fans, so what do they do? They hop on over to the next town down the river and try a new trick to raise funds. Overseas, far away from the local fans who have filled Old Trafford for decades, who knows what the Glazers will do if we turn a blind eye? What will they sell? Like the last few chapters of Huck Finn, this ending could be unsatisfactory on various levels. 

Second Partial-Flotation Variation: Captain Jack Sparrow’s Ship

Another major risk for a partial IPO in a subsidiary is that instead of price volatility, it simply flops. Investors could be concerned about two issues: First, who calls the shots at the subsidiary? After all, an executive Board holds the Parent Company in check (in theory), but does that same Board have a say in the Subsidiary? What about possible conflicts of interest between the studly Subsidiary and plodding Parent? On a general level, isn’t it odd that the Parent Company is slowly sinking but the Subsidiary is a Black Pearl of profit?

Then there’s the biggest risk – like the first Pirates of the Caribbean, success breeds shitty sequels intended to squeeze more dimes out of a bored populace. If the Glazers raise some cash in Singapore, then will a partial IPO in Bangladesh be next on the agenda? Perhaps they could go to Barbados, canvass door-to-door, and raffle off certificates of ownership to local residents! And, ad nauseum, this will further dilute the value of the “what the fuck are these exactly” shares already sold.

Third Partial-Flotation Variation: the Barge from Apocalypse Now

The Glazers really haven’t made many friends in England. Let’s just imagine that their “unfriendliness” leads to a few local enemies in Singapore, who then pull strings to make United’s ownership on the  Stock Exchange a living hell. After all, the former American owners of Liverpool got ran out of town on a horse. In Singapore, things could end even messier.

Why? Well, the alcoholic beverages advertised on the Singapore Corporate Counsel Association website gives an impression of an entrenched “Old Boys” culture. “Let’s take a few shots of Jim Beam and wax fiduciary duties, dude!” This is not a land to get mired into a messy corporate battle. Nor a place where you will probably get the fairest of shakes in a dispute. An exit could be tedious, costly, and worse than the benefit of entry.

Fourth Partial-Flotation Variation: Willy Gets Freed, Kinda

Another risk in selling a minority share in a subsidiary is that the subsidiary gains enough momentum to break free from the parent company. This is the least likely and most fascinating scenario. What if Manchester United manages to break free from the Glazers and…falls into Singapore investors hands? Technically, a partial flotation will require the Glazers to create or use a legally distinct subsidiary and then sell shares in that entity. If there’s enough cash, and, crucially, belligerent shareholders, then the parent company could be swept away in  Tsunami of money & boardroom politics & lawsuits. Granted, the two-tiered voting structure is meant to impede this. Not likely, but we can hope.

The great irony, of course, is that thousands of Englishmen & women love Manchester United and would love to own a part of the club. The Glazers want that cash, but not the responsibility. Even now, I can imagine local Singapore subsidiaries being created to allow for English investors to own a piece via the Singapore IPO. I’m sure the English are somewhat happy with United’s success, but, like the end of Free Willy, are sad to see a friend go away.

In sum, the IPO partial-flotation has several possibilities. It’s unlikely that the Singapore IPO will free United from the Glazers, but we can dream. In a few weeks or months, the Red Devils will go public. We can only pray for the best results. Will you be there?

Wicked cool stuff from Mr. Swarbrick of Gareth Bale also-cool-animation fame.

(Via AFR)

Life’s most pleasant surprises come in our greatest moments of weakness. The romantic triangle, the hermaphrodite rabbit, Ben Aguero’s lack of a left foot – except for the recent pk, this series has focused on all aspects of Junito’s life but one, his soccer talents. That is about to change.

First, allow me to paint over painful recent Real Madrid memories with a bit of nostalgia. Does anybody remember Robinho’s debut game, when he dazzled the fans and opposing defenses with sombreros? When was the last time a young budding star debuted to such applause? When was the last time we witnessed a talent so bright, bursting with an energy so pure, that nobody could deny it?

Neither do I.

At times it seems that modern society’s focus on “efficiency” has permanently relegated artistry to the basement. Our modern idols, Cristiano Ronaldo and Leo Messi, play a simple, direct, and unimaginative game – they dribble, work the occasional give-and-go, and score goals. But who is more likely to invent the next elastico? CRon did attempt a few dance moves and heel flicks while at Manchester, but his efforts appeared more forced than natural.

After Robinho’s debut, I harbored hopes that he could fill the gap left by Ronaldinho’s physical demise. That didn’t pan out, and I now pin my hopes on our little protagonist, Junito. However, at the age of two, signs were not promising. While watching me play, I pulled off a sombrero before his little eyes. And what did he say? In a harsh, dismissive tone, he said “Papy Elliott usted esta loco!”. It was as if Roberto Mancini had already drained the fun out of my son’s life. At two!

My wife and I took immediate action. Disguised as educational, we enrolled him in an elite preschool and obtained cable television. We purchased book after book after book, reading to him at all hours of the day. We also play a game called “Soy un animal,” in which a family member describes her or his self as an animal without mentioning the name. Did Junito once humorously start with “Vivo en una pecera“? Yes. And we correctly guessed pes. But he slowly improved.

Yet, despite his intellectual progress, the imagination did not appear to translate to the beautiful game. Junito continued to focus on the Anglo-Saxon rush-and-jump-and-kick approach, chugging leche con chocolate, throwing his weight around, and boasting he was muscoloso. And he is. I can’t deny that my four year old is solido beyond my wildest expectations. He regularly lifts up his older sister and shouts “La aguanto, y ahora usted.” I look down at my toddler, valiantly grabbing my leg and lifting with all his might.

So, I reasoned, Junito must focus on his gifts and proclivities. If he’s the next Andy Carroll, so be it. I set out on a simple task: eliminate the natural fear of heading a soccer ball. Day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, I delicately tossed a soft mini-ball onto my son’s forehead. I myself have scored a few headed goals off crosses and corners, so I dismissed my wife’s concerns about brain damage. I don’t remember having any brain damage. At least not that I can recall.

The fear dissipated and we moved onto the next task: aerial prowess. Junito already used his shoulder to great effect, so we focused on the spring in his step. I told him “haz la conejita“, and he looked at me confused. I was in a bind – our only conejo/a was a hermaphrodite, yet Spanish requires gendered nouns. Thus, I Spanglished up the command – “salta como rabbit!” And he did. And soon he was bouncing around the room, reminding me of his tender years, before he could walk or talk, when he shook from laughter and we called him our bebe saltamontes.

I was happy, but only in part. Would Junito’s power forward game and direct attack really translate to the Spanish game? Fernando Llorente has had some success at Bilbao, but Real have not come knocking. I resigned myself to watching my son bulldoze through central defenders, score churrigols off goalie errors, and probably do a few ill advised shirtless magazine pics.

But then it happened. A few days ago, Junito jumped. But this was not just any jump. Oh no. This was a jump for the ages, this was a jump of flair, panache, and spontaneity. How can a jump be more than a jump? It’s simple. The jump involves the ball. Between your legs. Yes, at the age of four, Junito has all but mastered the magical Cuauteminha.

So Junito jumped. Junito jumped in all his glory. And the tears flowed.

Video credits: Fox Sports, Univision, ESPN Deportes, TV Azteca

Song credit: “Paper Planes” by MIA

Picasso without Velasquez. Family Guy without the Simpsons. Robinho without Garrincha. Unthinkable? No. Sadly, we live in a world that obsesses over the present and increasingly pays lip service to the past. Yet not Junito. Thanks to Youtube, old soccer books, and the art of oral storytelling, I have turned his little world into a land of famous head fakes, jukes, goals, and saves. Pele’s perfect almost-goal. The shame of Terezeguet and Baggio’s penalty kick misses.The maracanazo. These moments constitute the social fabric of the game we love and Junito will one day dominate.

I want him to full understand the history of soccer for a few simple reasons.

First, I get annoyed by inarticulate players that can’t even name teammates, let alone opposing players, let alone past greats. For all his antics and theatrics, at least Cristiano knew about Pusky and Di Stefano before moving to Real. Not that he’s the perfect role model for Junito. But it’s starting point.

Second, I want Junito to appreciate his accomplishments. When he inevitably hangs up his boots at the age of 50 (new nutrition technology will assist greatly), he obviously won’t be able to recall each one of the hundreds of goals he’s scored for Madrid. Thus, realization and appreciation of his overall mark on the institution and the world of football will be crucial to resist the catcalls to play in the UAE.

Of course, when we teach history and show greatness, sometimes the novice pupil feels imaginary pressure. I am teaching Junito to study the movement and skills of the greats, not stare awestruck. What they all have in common, of course, is confidence. Despite being a game of 90 minutes, split-second reactions determine the outcome. There is no time for doubt.

The basics, the fundamentals, the body in sync with mind & spirit. Junito must learn harmony. Thus, in the spirit of slowly taking off the training wheels, I have pitted him in the most nerve-wracking of situations: the penalty kick. We regularly jugar a los penales and Junito is a very gifted arquero. However, when he takes a penalty kick, I still see a bit of squeamishness about him. With each kick, it gets a little better. And, most importantly, he always wants to take another kick.

Still, the time between setting up a spotkick and taking it can stretch into infinity. The game is reduced to a simple duel and simple task for the ultimate prize. The seconds allow the mind to wander, to lose focus, to feel doubt. The simplicity makes one feel the weight of the world on his or her own shoulders. With the game reduced to such a simplistic moment, we forget that chance plays a role in all our lives. As does fate.

Sometimes you step up and bury the penalty kick, your team wins the match, and your team advances. And other times….

Song Credit: “Somethings Coming” from West Side Story, by Barry Wordsworth

Video Credit: Dmemig (Youtube) “Blanco’s penalty kick goal vs France, 2010 World Cup Group Stages”

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