The End

So, it's all over. Spain are champions. I shouldn't really care as I haven't allegiance to either country and they both played spectacularly boring football. Still.

I do hate teams that develop a bandwagon following, teams like Brazil. Spain is a bandwagon team too. I suppose the teams can't help it, but I can choose not to jump on the bandwagon as it rolls across South Africa making stops on all seven continents. Shit. If Spain really dazzled me, really wowed me, won me over with brilliant, entertaining football, with spectacular goals, I might feel differently. I just can't love the cagey, chess-match football they play. Not that the Dutch played any better. While they have a great footballing tradition, this was a rather week, light-beer version of what they are capable of as a nation.

It is such a fffffftt ending to a great tournament, 30 days of wonderful surprises, upstarts making chumps of the traditional soccer powers, sending them all on early vacations. Then this, a sad little fart escaping from a deflated balloon. Do I expect too much? Why is the final always a disappointment, or 9 times out of 10? Is it me? Why are the upsets, or the battles from behind, the matches that turn your insides out and make a mess of the odds makers' books the most interesting? Japan v. Nigeria, now that would be an interesting final. The US v. Slovakia. Teams that are completely unpredictable. A one-nil victory for Spain. Wow! Big surprise.

And tomorrow the newspapers will be gooey with praise for Spain, articles written by sports writers who watch precious little soccer and still use American sports analogies to illustrate their points. They too have leapt aboard "la fiora roja" express.

(Sigh) I feel let down somehow.

But just as sure as there will be another World Cup in 4 years, I will be there, watching, cheering, cursing, singing, crying, analyzing and discussing it all. I can't wait. Oh, the beautiful game.

The World Cup Final that never was

You read it here first. This, the 3rd place match between Germany and Uruguay, should have been the final. I guarantee this match was more interesting, more entertaining than anything we will see tomorrow at Soccer City in Johannesburg. The Germans and Uruguayans played end-to-end attacking football as if this were the final. Shame nobody remembers the 3rd and 4th place finishers in a World Cup.

Dutch football

This is "Total Football" circa 1974. Let's hope the Dutch class of 2010 can live up to this legendary team and succeed where they failed.

Spanish football

If the Dutch don't perform we'll need a Simpsons-style riot to keep the Spanish from boring us to death on Sunday in the World Cup final.

A lesson in football, blood and soil

There are teams you like and teams you don't. I like Germany. My grandfather was German; he taught me the game; I have relatives and friends living in Germany. I like Holland, not because I am Dutch, but because they play attractive football. I don't like Argentina. Mostly because of Diego Maradona. I don't like Brazil, not because they don't play great football, because they do; I don't like them because EVERYONE likes Brazil, and because they are expected to win every World Cup.

I am oft ridiculed for having multiple allegiances. The truth is, when it comes to the World Cup I have just one team, and that is the US. One has only to read my post following the US - England match to know this is true. While I have English blood, and love English football I would never root against the US in a football match between the two. As I said, I have German blood. In 2002 the US met the Germans in the quarter final. Did I support Germany because that is the birthplace of my grandfather, or because they play better football? Of course not. I am American. This is not grand patriotic posturing, because anyone that knows me, knows that I am no patriot. It is simply that in international competition, I feel one should support either the country in which they were born, or the country in which they live, whichever is the greater number of years. Let me explain. If I moved to France now, at the age of 41, and spent the rest of my life there, I'm still going to support the US in the World Cup. If I live beyond 83, well then, maybe it would be open to discussion which country I follow. If I was born in Mexico, but have lived all but my first year in the US, I'm going to support the US, not Mexico.

What is interesting about Americans is that we are all from somewhere else. There are Native Americans, of course, but everyone else is a descendent of an immigrant from another land. This is a more recent phenomena in Europe, one with which they are struggling. There has been much talk about the players on the German squad with Polish last names. People still expect Germans to have names like Beckenbauer and Muller. I have friends from England and Mexico that find it difficult to believe I can claim English, German, Hungarian, French, Mexican and Native American heritage. When the World Cup rolled around they enjoyed taunting me, questioning my loyalties, and even today as Germany battled Spain in the semi-final they thought it peculiar or hypocritical that I would root for Germany. People and cultures with very pure bloodlines cannot understand the American mutt. In 50 or 100 years when their own indigenous cultures have been watered down, and the white Anglo-Saxons are the minority in England, or the brown-skinned Aztec is no longer the majority in Mexico, perhaps then they will understand.

Adidas Originals Star Wars Cantina 2010

Adidas Originals Star Wars Cantina 2010

The Come Down

It is strange. I feel a little empty. I'm glad to be back in New York, but I am missing that focus I had in South Africa. It is still all about the World Cup, even here. I wake up to it, have lunch with it, go to bed with it. My days are lubricated with World Cup football and beer. And yet, I feel, I don't know, somehow lost, as if my purpose has gone. There are still several matches to play, but it feels like the end of the party. That's it, that is the feeling. It is like when you've gone to a good party, you're having fun, talking, eating, drinking, dancing and then you notice that the guests are beginning to leave. And you think, wait, it's still early, come on, another round, another song. The come down.

Some that got away

A Bloggers Note

So, as most of you know I am back from South Africa. What a journey! I am going to continue to post notes, opinions and photos through the rest of the World Cup. I'm afraid they won't be as interesting as those coming from the source, but...well, it's not over until somebody lifts that 13.6 pound solid gold trophy on July 11.

On the Road...South Africa

The Jo'burg taxi

Riding in a taxi in Jo'burg is an experience unlike any other major city. Not because they are crazy or dangerous. No, it is because the taxi industry is a proper racket in Jo'burg.

Unlike New York, London or Paris taxi drivers, those in Jo'burg do not know their city. It seems the only requirement to operate as a taxi is a car. So if you don't know exactly where you are going you are better off not even embarking on your journey. They rarely run the meter, if they even have one. They will charge you whatever they think they can get. I learned it is best to tell them what you want to pay rather than asking them what the fare is. This whole experience is extremely frustrating and annoying. One should avoid any taxi driver with a Merc; they're the worst of the lot. They think because they have a big, expensive car you should help them with their loan payments.

I discovered from a local that the Jo'burg taxi drivers are essentially a mafia organization. That is, they wield a lot of power because there is no public transportation system - no buses, no subways, no streetcars or trams. When initiatives for new/alternative transportation are proposed by the government they are killed by the taxi mob. The public is totally at the mercy of these scheisters.

Top 3 Worst of 2010 World Cup South Africa

Here are my Top 3 Worst of the 2010 World Cup South Africa (in order):

1) The vuvusela

I've read pro/con articles in the newspapers that actually refer to it as an instrument. As if South Africa didn't have enough problems, it will be a nation of deaf people in a years time.

2) The Jabulani ball

If this were a grid-iron football tournament there would be a new record for "field goals". Adidas, FIFA, enough with the ball tinkering. Bring back the 32 panel leather Telstar.

3) Injury Theatre (aka World Cup Diving)

You know the players that are guilty; you know the nations that are the greatest perpetrators. Stay on your feet and shoot the f#*%ing ball!

The Lemurian

Some of you may have been wondering where I've been holed up for the last few weeks. Well, here it is, the Lemurian Guest Lodge in Atholl-Sandton, Johannesburg. Trust me, it photographs well. While not exactly a dump, it left a lot to be desired in terms of comfort and style. Following my 3 day sojourn in Cape Town I was dreading coming back. A $1 million investment might bring it up to standard. I suppose then the rates would go up. You get what you pay for, right.

Impressions and Notes

A massive fatigue is weighing on me, as if I was playing in the World Cup. My brain is like melted butter today. My focus now is to get back to New York and normalcy.

The football seems so far away, so long ago, even as I sit here watching a replay of that dreadful match.

I don't think I'd have the energy to go to the quarter final match had the US advanced. I'm exhausted.

Funny. I've been here almost three weeks and this awful shopping mall, Melrose Arch, has become my default home base because it is relatively close, has several banks, a mobile phone shop, a market and the de rigueur restaurants, shops, etc. There are two sort of posh hotels, Schrager knock-offs. I stopped in one, the Fire and Ice, for a coffee. It happens to be the hotel in which the US team are staying. I saw Michael Bradley in the lobby with a few girls (girlfriends? sisters?). I couldn't tell him, "good game", and I didn't have the heart to tell him they played poorly and let us down. He looked as tired as me.

Aufgehts Deutschland! While I am sentimental always about England, because they seem to perform as badly as the US in big tournaments, I have to say Germany looks really good. I like the way these kids attack, attack, attack. They may not be a glamourous side, with big names, but they are playing better football than anyone in this tournament right now. They play as a team, not a collection of individuals.

The bright spot

This was the bright spot on an otherwise miserable trip to Rustenberg. The bus stopped at a place called Lucky's which is a butcher/restaurant/bar. It works like this: you order your meat from the butcher, take it over to the braai (aka barbecue) and grill it yourself. I had shish kabob. This was perhaps my best meal in South Africa.

US v. Ghana or The End of the Dream

This was deja vu. Not only because the US was once again facing Ghana in a World Cup match (I was there in Nürnberg in 2006), but because I had a similar bad feeling then. In addition we were also going back to Rustenberg.

I had booked a seat on a supporters bus again; I didn’t want to be alone. The meeting point was the same, Nelson Mandela Square. I arrived early. The square was completely empty of American fans. Had everyone gone home despite the fact we made it into the round of 16? I waited. Did I have the right spot? I waited. Maybe they cancelled the bus at the last minute? Finally just before noon a handful of fans arrived. That was it. We were a mere handful. For the England match we hired four buses and numbered more than 300.

You can’t imagine how difficult it was to make ourselves heard in the stadium against the roar of, well…Africa. By some miracle of immigration and naturalization everyone in the stadium was suddenly Ghanaian. We didn’t stand a chance. I thought of the scene in Dr. Seuss’ “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. “Oh the noise, oh the noise, noise, noise, noise… They’ll dance with ching-tinglers tied onto their heels, they’ll blow their floo-flubas, they’ll bang their tar-tinkers; they’ll blow their hoohubas, they’ll bang their gardinkers….”

Sam’s Army is the supporters group that usually lead the songs. So feeble was their voice against the din I took it upon myself to lead the singing in my section. The players had to hear our voice, know we were there for them. No way.

The US did not play well, this much is true. Maybe they were spent from the match against Algeria and had nothing left to give. Maybe they were thinking of Nürnberg. Maybe, like me, they are simply tired of being here in South Africa.

So now we build again for another World Cup in four years time. Another World Cup, another World Cup, another World Cup…

The football (the good and the ugly)

Japan and the Blue Samurai are my new favorite team (after the US, of course). Great, attacking, entertaining football.

The most anticipated and talked about match of the tournament - Brazil v. Portugal turned out to be the most boring. What a stinker! I hate when teams don't play, "saving" themselves for the next match.

The most interesting/entertaining football so far has come from North America and Asia. Fuck all the precious, over-payed drama queens from Europe and South America.

Shame, shame on you, Spain and Chile! Your fans have traveled half way around the world, spent thousands of Euros and Pesos on tickets to see you play and this is how you treat them. That second half performance was appalling, a terrific bore! I hope you both go out in the next round.

Stanley Ave.

Cool afternoon crowd at Stanley Ave., good sunglasses, hair, shoes. A tiny oasis of hip in an otherwise bland city.

I miss New York.

Impressions and Notes

It occurred to me as I was sitting in Eastwoods, the Yankee bar in Pretoria, surveying the scene, I have two things in common with these people: our country of origin, and soccer. Weird.

From time to time I'll happen upon an exclusive FIFA hotel in Johannesburg. It is always interesting to see, like observing the aristocracy. Honestly, the people with FIFA badges haven't a clue of what life is like in Jo'burg or South Africa. They are all staying in the best hotels, dining in the finest restaurants, chauffeured around in big Mercs or deluxe buses past or around the poverty of the shanty towns or the wealthy suburban fortresses. They are escorted into and out of the stadiums, completely catered to during the match. Then they fly home, back to their countries, congratulate themselves on a fine World Cup without ever seeing anything. FIFA is really completely out of touch.

It could be my own post-match exhaustion, but I feel a quiet descending over Jo'burg and the World Cup, as places in the Round of 16 are secured and the teams that didn't progress, and the fans that followed them here, pack their bags and go home.

Victory