Keeping Score

It's Time to Come Out

2012-01-26T20:32:00.001-05:00

Disclaimer:

The views expressed in this blog in general, and in thefollowing post in particular, do not necessarily reflect the positions,opinions, or musical tastes of all or even a majority of the partners,associates, employees, clients, or friends of Huddleston Bolen LLP and,particularly with regard to music, probably do not. As this blog hasevolved it has become a means by which I, and I alone, examine issues largelyregarding sports, sports management and ownership, and coaching and attempt tofind lessons applicable to management, employment, or more broadly to life ingeneral. Readers are welcome, and in fact encouraged, to express theirdisagreement with the premises or conclusions that I submit, as long as they doso civilly.

Two recent events have drawn my attention to the issues of sexual orientation, soccer, and the need for a modern day Jackie Robinson, not only in soccer but in all of men's sports.

I tend to think of soccer's culture, as it has grown in this country in the past two decades, as residing largely among the white and upper middle class. While soccer was at one time largely the bastion of immigrants here, its recent explosion is no doubt due to suburban parents and players. From my interaction with coaches, players, parents, and fans, I regard soccer followers as tolerant folk.

In doing so I forget soccer's roots as the World's game, played by the lower and lower middle class, as a means of entertainment and escape (from reality and, occasionally, from their circumstances). While I've declined in other posts to expound on the nature of sport as a substitute for combat or the hunt, it is undeniable that, in many other parts of the world, sport in general and soccer in particular are still viewed as somewhat gladiatorial.

This attitude is reflected by the attitudes towards, or restrictions placed on, women's soccer teams in many parts of the world, particularly in predominantly Islamic countries. While these restrictions are purportedly based on Sharia law, they are certainly reflective, I believe, of the attitudes of those nations and cultures with regard to women and their place not only in sport but in society as well. And certainly the same issues are being fought out in broader society in non-Islamic nations as well.

Lest we consider the "West" more enlightened, however, recent developments in Germany and England and less recently in Brazil all indicate differently, at least where sexual orientation is concerned.

Last week, as a parting plea upon his departure as president of the German Football Association ("DFB"), Theo Zwanziger called for gay players "to have the courage to declare themselves." Zwanziger cited German politician Klaus Wowereit, the Mayor of Berlin, as an example of how a public figure acknowledging his or her own homosexuality can contribute towards making public acceptance of various sexual orientations more likely.

In response, Philipp Lahm, the captain of the German national team, described Zwanziger's plea as unrealistic. "Football is like being the gladiators in the old times," Lahm was quoted as saying. "The politicians can come out these days, for sure, but they don't have to play in front of 60,000 people every week."

Zwanziger, describing Lahm as a tolerant person, said that he wouldn't criticize Lahm for his views. But while they may be realistic, they certainly aren't brave.

Also last week, news came that Blackburn Rovers were contemplating a bid for a Brazilian midfielder named Richarlyson. A midfielder and defender who has had a successful club career and won two caps for his national team, Richarlyson would seem to be the type of player in whom the big clubs of Europe would have an interest.

Richarlyson

But for the fact that he was publicly identified as gay, he might well have been. Richarlyson's outing (if it can be called that -- he has apparently neither admitted nor denied publicly that he is gay) occurred when the coach of a rival team "accidentally" identified Richarlyson as the player in Brazil's top division who was rumored to be gay.

It got worse for Richarlyson when, after suing the coach for defamation, the presiding judge dismissed the lawsuit, reportedly on the grounds that soccer is a "virile masculine sport and not a homosexual one." The judge went so far as to suggest that because of his assumed sexual orientation "Richarlyson should be forever banished by FIFA and never be allowed to play football again".

The decision was appealed and Richarlyson's lawyers were quoted as saying that they would sue the judge as well but, although these incidents occurred in 2007, there is nothing on the internet (at least in English) to indicate that the judge was disciplined or a civil lawsuit was instituted against him. Not surprisingly, Richarlyson's professional career has not benefited from the controversy -- he transferred in 2010 from one of the biggest clubs in Brazil, Sao Paulo, and after two appearance with the national team in 2008 has not had another cap.

While I understand Lahm's position that a professional player would risk derision from fans and players if he were to come out, I can't help but think of the parallels between gay athletes today and those who fifty years ago broke the color barrier in professional sports in this country. The notion that the first "big name" professional athlete to declare his homosexuality would face more vitriol than Jackie Robinson or Emlen Tunnell is, I believe, false.

It will no doubt take a player with the courage of his convictions, a thick skin, and athletic talent to be the first to break the orientation barrier, just as it did for football and baseball here. But once that barrier is broken, the benefits to other gay players, and ultimately to society, are immense.

Sports allow, even require, fans in particular and citizens in general to reevaluate their attitudes and prejudices towards certain groups. While the differences between the races are hardly resolved here, the fact that we have had in the past two years a national championship football team from the Deep South with a black quarterback and, in the past four, a black president, have to be accounted for, at least in part, by pioneer athletes who endured the threats and chants of those who were opposed to them solely because of the color of their skin a half century ago.

In the same way I believe that the first internationally recognized soccer player who steps up the the microphone and declares his sexuality will lead to the second, then the third, then many more. And he will no doubt have to endure years, perhaps a lifetime, of bigoted songs from the terraces (perhaps even those of his own club), physical threats, and the cold shoulder from some teammates. But the volume and ferocity of those chants and threats will lessen over time, and lessen with each additional player who comes out.

And when they do, when some day an admittedly gay player captains a World Cup squad or a Champions' League finalist, then everyone will have to acknowledge, on one level or another, that homosexual soccer players (or baseball players, or football players) can be just as skilled, just as committed, just as much a member of the team, as any heterosexual player.

Soccer needs its Jackie Robinson. He's out there somewhere. It's time for him to step forward.

We're waiting.

When Enough Is Enough

2012-01-09T00:23:00.000-05:00

Now that my coaching days are over, I've spent more time over the past two months being a fan - of music, of American football, but most of all of soccer and Blackburn Rovers.

These are not good times if you're a Rovers fan. In fact, they may well be the worst of times. For while I and many of my fellow supporters with whom I commiserate (or, to put it more accurately, whose commiserations I read on our list-serve without comment these days) have lived through the dark days of relegation and far too many inept players and managers in the past, we always had hope. Now, we have none.

That hope was provided by two means: first, strong, ambitious ownership provided by local-boy-made good steel magnate Jack Walker; and, second, dedicated, knowledgeable decision-making from the front office, led by long-time Rovers' employee John Williams.

A statute of Jack Walker outside Ewood Park in Blackburn.

Walker's love for Rovers was clear from the millions of pounds that he spent turning the club from a Second Division afterthought into the Premier League Champions. It was not a love shared by his family, however. After Walker died in 2000, his holdings, including the Rovers, were put in a family trust. For a time the trust operated Rovers with parsimonious oversight but not neglect, allowing Williams, who began working for the club in the 1990s and rose to the rank of Chairman, to spend enough money to keep Rovers afloat.

Eventually Walker's heirs tired of the drain on their fortune that Rovers created and sought a new owner for the club. After several false starts and many rumored interests, finally a buyer was found: Venky's. I knew nothing of the company at the time but learned that it is based in India, began as a poultry company, and is privately held, owned by a family named Rao. Several fans expressed concerns about Venky's true intentions for the club from the start (sell off all the "assets"? treat it as their play toy like some Indian version of the Beverly Hillbillies?) but I put it down to the "glass half-empty" nature of most Rovers fans, or, to be honest, perhaps a touch of bigotry.

There is no doubt, however, that Venky's ownership of Rovers has been an unmitigated public relations disaster. Soon after taking over they fired manager Sam Allardyce, claiming that he lacked the ambition that Venky's had for the club. While many Rovers' fans (me included) were dissatisfied with Allardyce's boring tactics we were comfortable Big Sam's ability to keep Rovers in the Premier League.

In his place Venky's appointed Steve Kean, the club's first team coach, as the new manager. Kean expressed what was apparently the requisite ambition for Rovers -- attractive soccer, a top five finish, and challenging for the championship. But he had no real managerial experience before taking the job and his ambitions seemed completely out of touch with small town football in the toughest league in the World. Kean's reign has been marked by last minute collapses, poor tactical decisions, and, perhaps most galling, toadying to Venky's (including frequent command performances in India at a time when he should be devoting his energies to his club).

Kean's summons to India are indicative of Venky's management style, which appears to be to trust the counsel of those who tell them what they want to hear and ignore those who don't. Particularly troubling is the relationship of Venky's to player agent Jerome Anderson, who, despite his fervent denials, seems to have considerable influence with the owners in player and managerial decisions (he represents Kean and his son is on the Rovers' roster).

Even more troubling than Allardyce's dismissal was Williams' departure soon after. While managers always come and go, especially at smaller clubs like Rovers who tend to either lose the successful ones to bigger clubs or fire the unsuccessful ones when at the brink of relegation, the chairman is hopefully the constant -- the one person in whom power lies who can be expected to do what is in the best interests of the club, not him or her self. Williams was certainly that person for Rovers.

Matters off the pitch reached a fever pitch this past week as Kean accused a growingly vocal majority of Rovers' supports calling for his (and Venky's) ouster of essentially not being "true" fans. This apparent effort by two Johnny-come-latelies to take it upon themselves to define who is or is not a "fan" follows on the heels of previous attempts to censor fan's statements about the club (under the disingenuous guise of safety concerns) by prohibiting anti-Kean banners at Ewood Park.

The beliefs of many supporters regarding Venky's ineptitude was confirmed earlier this week with the belated release of a letter that was sent by Williams and two other then-Board members noted that they were being by-passed and ignored regarding the most fundamental decisions made at the club: "We now find ... that the board are not even being consulted on some of the most fundamental decisions this or any other football club ever makes. This includes the termination of the manager's employment and the appointment of a new manager."

Venky's and Kean's actions and statements have sparked a discussion among Rovers' fans regarding what it means to be a fan and, when matters of The Club and Our Club collide, how a true fan should act.

This is, admittedly, an easier call for me to make than that of those who were born in Blackburn, or near there. Many figuratively bleed Blue and White and some, literally, will be buried in the Blue and White halves. The Club has been "theirs" for thirty, forty, fifty, or more years. They are season ticket holders who have invested their lives in the club.

But, simply put, it is no longer their club. It is Venky's, and they have made that very clear with everything they have done since they bought the club.

While fans are relatively powerless these days in the face of billionaire owners, multi-millionaire players, and millionaire agents, they do have one chit left. And that is the ultimate one. To not willingly pay one penny (pence?) to further the interests of those owners, players, and agents.

If they have already purchased their season tickets for 2011-12 I encourage them to attend the matches, root for the Rovers, cheer every goal, boo or whistle at every appearance by Kean, and hope for the best. But don't buy a pie or a pint or a shirt on the grounds. Do not give Venky's one more penny.

As for me, I laugh at the emails that I get from Rovers telling me about the latest sale at the club's on-line shop and scoff at the invitations to sign up for internet access to match commentary and video highlights. For now, I'll just have to console myself with my Tugay Rovers' shirt and my tape of the 2002 League Cup triumph over Spurs.

For me, enough is enough.

Favorite Songs of 2011 - Songs 1-10

2011-12-30T12:50:00.000-05:00

And now the Top Ten. Happy New Year all!

1. Calamity Song by The Decemberists.

"Had a dream.
You and me and the war of the end-times.
And I believe; California succumbed to the fault line.
We heaved relief.
As scores of innocents died."

The second "new" song that I heard in 2011 (the second track on "The King is Dead") and still my favorite 11 1/2 months later. Only Colin Meloy (okay, and maybe Michael Stipe and Florence Welch) could write such a bouncy, upbeat song about the apocalypse.

2. Bushwick Blues by The Delta Spirit.

"So maybe I'm the fool
for feeling used.
Well, the way we kissed that night -
I thought you knew.
Because my love is strong.
And my heart is weak.
After all."

Thanks to my brother Jeff for turning me on to them. I'm sorry I missed them at Mountain Stage last year.

3. Yer Spring by Hey Rosetta!

"Oh man I hate this part -
When the car sails off the bridge.
Am I the knuckles white inside?
Am I the water rushing in?"

Probably my favorite lines from any song all year long.

4. Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars.

"Ain't going back to Barton Hollow;
Devil gonna follow me 'ere I go.
Won't do me no good washing in the river;
Can't no preacher man save my . . . soul."

The video HAD to be black and white, didn't it? I love the way the singers' voices blend.

5. We Will All be Changed by Seryn.

"We can write with ink and pen,
But we will sow with seeds instead.
Starting with words we've said.
We will all be changed."

I think I first saw mention of this song this summer on someone's "Best Songs of 2011 So Far" list.

6. Smart by Girl in a Coma.

"Hold your head up though you're shaking.
I've never felt a rush like this; not quite like this.
You were never one to fake it.
I've never felt a lust like this; not quite like this."

Just love the vocals on this song.

7. 100 Other Lovers by Devotchka.

"I know it's coming;
I can feel it in my bones.
This is information you already know.
Even if it's only temporarily;
Give the illusion tonight you belong to me."

I saw them at Bonnaroo too, and while they were great, they, somewhat disappointingly, didn't play this song.

8. Under Cover of Darkness by The Strokes.

"Get dressed, jump out of bed and do it best.
Are you OK?
I’ve been out around this town
And everybody’s been singing the same song, ten years."

I wanna be Julian Casablancas when I grow up.

9. Too Dramatic by Ra Ra Riot.

"Don't listen when you're weary.
Oh, but I wanna talk about it.
You and me weren't made for that, I'm sure."

Love the strings; not crazy about the video.

10. Down in the Valley by The Head and the Heart.

"Call it one drink too many; call it pride of a man.
But it don't make no difference if you sit or you stand.
'Cause they both end in trouble and start with a grin.
Yeah they both end in trouble and start with a grin."

The only group with more than one song in the Top Thirty other than The Decemberists, The Head and the Heart is a must-see in concert if you get the chance. Even if it's under a tent in 95 degree heat in the middle of a dusty field in Tennessee.

Favorite Songs of 2011 - Songs 11-20

2011-12-19T18:16:00.000-05:00

The middle ten of my favorite songs from this year (or, in some cases, last).

11. Down by the Water by The Decemberists.

"All dolled up in gabardine
The lash-flashing Leda of pier nineteen
Queen of the water and queen of the old main drag."

I don't pretend to understand what Colin Meloy's getting at here, but I like it just the same.

12. You Are a Tourist by Death Cab for Cutie.

"When you find yourself the villain

In the story you have written,

It's plain to see.

That sometimes the best intentions
Are in need of redemption
Would you agree?"

Saw them live this year too, at Merriweather Post Pavilion along with Frightened Rabbit.

13. Faster by Matt Nathanson.

"You bite my lip.
You spike my blood.
You make my heart
Beat
Faster."

A ridiculously sappy-sweet love song. But (every once in a while) there's nothing wrong with that.

14. California (Hustle and Flow) by Social Distortion.

"Well, I was born, babe, with nothing to lose
But the black man taught me how to sing the blues
Made a little life outta rock ‘n’ roll
And that crazy California hustle and flow."

Another ol' fashion rock 'n roll song.

15. Boeing 737 by The Low Anthem.

"I was in the air when the towers came down
In a bar on the 84th floor.
I bought Philippe Petit a round,
and asked what his high wire was for.
He said, 'I put one foot on the wire,
one foot straight into heaven.'
As the prophets entered boldly into the bar
on the Boeing 737; Lord, on the Boeing 737."

An angry, cacophonic (is that a word?) song about 9/11. But why a 737 when the planes were 767's? There's an artsy video too, but I like this one better.

16. Heart in Your Heartbreak by The Pains of Being Pure at Heart.

"She was the heart in your heartbreak;
She was the miss in your mistake.
And no matter what you take,
you're never going to forget."

Sounds like '80's pop punk to me.

17. Walk by Foo Fighters.

"I'm dancing on my grave.
I'm running through the fire.
Forever, whatever;
I never wanna die."

If Kurt Cobain had lived, I have to think that musically he'd be more like Eddie Vedder than Dave Grohl these days. Not that there's anything wrong with Vedder's music, but thank goodness that Grohl's still rockin'.

18. Every Teardrop is a Waterfall by Coldplay.

"I turn the music up, I got my records on.
From underneath the rubble sing a rebel song.
Don't want to see another generation drop;
I'd rather be a comma than a full stop."

Yeah, they might rip off Radiohead (although this songs sounds more like U2 to me). Yeah, the lyrics may be "wussy" as the younger male member of my family insists. But I like it, and it's my list.

19. Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People.

"Robert's got a quick hand.
He'll look around the room, won't tell you his plan.
He's got a rolled cigarette, hanging out his mouth he's a cowboy kid.
Yeah, found a six shooter gun
In his dad's closet hidden with a box of fun things, I don't even know what.
But he's coming for you, yeah he's coming for you."

The song of the summer -- a bouncy pop treat -- until you listen to the lyrics.

20. The Ballad of Mona Lisa by Panic! at the Disco.

"Say what you mean.
Tell me I'm right and let the sun rain down on me.
Give me a sign - I wanna believe."

While the lyrics say he wants to believe, the video says he's already written her off.

My Favorite Songs of 2011 - Songs 21-30

2011-12-05T16:18:00.001-05:00

The last few years in November and December I've posted a countdown of my favorite songs of the past year on Facebook. Given the readership for my Bonnaroo post this past summer, I thought I'd republish the list here this year. Each will start with some lyrics from the song, sometimes followed by a brief comment about it or why I like it.

These are my favorite songs; not the "best" songs according to me or some critic. Some you may know, others you may not. The only rules are that it must be a song released in 2010 or 2011 and that I like it. I hope you enjoy them (or at least some of them) too.

21. Electrified by Ben Sollee.

"If your heart is unsteady, they can make it beat in time.
If you mind is confused, it can be clarified.
If you're old-fashioned, you will be modernized.

Everything is electrified."

Just a man and his cello, making great music. In what will be a recurring theme, I saw him at Bonnaroo, although not at this impromptu concert.

22. Helplessness Blues by Fleet Foxes.

"I was raised up believing I was somehow unique.
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see.
And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be:
A functioning cog in some great machinery, serving something beyond me."

A beautiful song about . . . withdrawing from the rat race? Giving in and becoming a "functioning cog"? Discuss amongst yourselves.

23. Block After Block by Matt + Kim.

"Eat when you’re hungry and
Sleep when you’re slipping like
Tired dogs rest their paws
Today we show our flaws."

A get-up-and-jump-around song if ever there was one. The whole joint was jumpin' when they played at Bonnaroo.

24. 99 Problems by Hugo.

"Looking for the prize but I don’t want blood
I order one drink then I drink the flood

Well, you can come inside but your friends can’t come."

Pretty much the antithesis of the next song on the list. Since Hugo apparently is signed with Jay-Z's label, I guess we can assume that Jay-Z approved of Hugo's partial appropriation of his song.

25. One and Only by Adele.

"I dare you to let me be your,
Your one and only.
Promise I'm worthy
To hold in your arms."

More than this summer's ubiquitous Rolling in the Deep, I think this song really shows off Adele's great voice. Just a good old fashioned soul ballad.

26. We Used to Wait by Arcade Fire.

"I used to write.

I used to write letters;

I used to sign my name.

I used to sleep at night.

Before the flashing lights settled deep in my brain."

This song would be higher except that it's really a 2010 song, and even though my rules allow 2010 songs here, it should have been on last year's list. Great song, just the same. GO SEE THEM LIVE!

27. My Body by Young the Giant.

"Stop the train is riding down to the station where I lived
When I was a cool kid.
Hey, is it my fault that the fallen embers burn down in a spiral
Round your crown of thieves?"

One of the few genuine rock 'n roll songs on this year's list.

28. Zorbing by Stornoway.

"Lying in your attic;
I can feel the static;
The storm has broken, heavens open.
So electrifying, oh I'm nearly flying;
Lost my heart between the sheets of lightning."

I have no idea what "zorbing" is but I like the song . . .

29. Mine Smell Like Honey by REM.

"If the end comes faster than we had expected;
And predictions lead us to the final fall.
If the flowers crack the grave and leave the patterns of the pavement;
I can hear you shouting over it all."

Thanks, boys, it was a great ride.

30. Rivers and Roads by The Head and the Heart.

"A year from now we'll all be gone
All our friends will move away
And they're goin' to better places
But our friends will be gone away."

One of my top five favorite performances at Bonnaroo this summer.

Tough Act to Follow

2011-11-14T22:45:00.001-05:00

Scott Hunter, Quincy Carter, Jay Fiedler, Bert Jones, Aaron Rodgers.

Any idea what those five quarterbacks have in common? Maybe this will help: Bart Starr, Troy Aikman, Dan Marino, Johnny Unitas, Brett Favre.

Yep, that's right. Each of the first five was the starting quarterback who replaced those in the second group. Four of the first five faded into the realm of sports trivia, unable to fill the very large shoes of those they attempted to replace.

Which makes Rodgers' accomplishments the last two NFL seasons even more astonishing than they otherwise would be. And they are quite astounding by their own right. A Super Bowl victory, a Super Bowl MVP award, 16 straight NFL wins (a record in the history of the Packers' storied franchise), and a likely NFL MVP this season are the stuff of a budding legend.

That Rodgers has been able to so seamlessly replace a bona fide legend in Favre, someone who arguably was the face of the franchise more than any quarterback since Namath or Unitas, speaks volumes both for Rodgers and for the coach and front office personnel who first groomed him and then placed him in a position to succeed.

While Rodgers may be more popular in the U.S. than George Washington, Martin Luther King, and Mother Teresa these days, it is his mentoring and "handling" by the Packers that perhaps impresses me the most. For while the fawning over Rodgers is deserved (and even as a life-long Lions fan I will find myself somewhat conflicted as I watch the revival of a meaningful Lions-Packers game on Thanksgiving Day) I am convinced that the Packers' management and coaches placed Rodgers in the position that he is in today through a series of shrewd decisions.

One percent behind Jesus.

The authors of the book that I'm currently reading about the birth and growth of ESPN convincingly argue that the network's rise to its self-proclaimed status as "The Worldwide Leader in Sports" may have never occurred but for a series of decisions and events, any one of which may have resulted in the demise of the network. So too the Packers brass had multiple opportunities to fumble away the chance to grow Rodgers into the player that he is now but chose the right path every time.

First, the Packers used a first-round draft pick to select Rodgers at a time when they already had a "franchise quarterback" in Favre (take note Indianapolis Colts). Second, they brought Rodgers along slowly, letting him to adjust to the speed of the game, learning from one of the best. Third, they recognized when it was Rodgers' time and when they did they committed to him fully, whether growing tired of Favre's "I'm retired; I'm not retired" antics or simply considering it in the best interests of the business to hand Rodgers the reins. And, finally, once Rodgers was installed as the franchise keystone, they collected, kept, and surrounded him with good talent.

Recognizing talent, training team members, surrounding your leaders with good employees, managing expectations. The Packers have taught us all something about how to achieve success in their handling of Aaron Rodgers.

Where Was Joe?

2011-11-10T19:08:00.002-05:00

"Joe Paterno IS Penn State football!" said one of the rioters on that campus in the wake of the news that Paterno had been fired by Penn State's Board of Trustees.

To which one can only respond: you'd better hope not.

The charges against Jerry Sandusky and the revelations of cover-up, inaction, lying and half-truths that followed force one to conclude that no school would want Paterno to lead one of its teams, let alone represent that team and that entire institution, given the vacuum of morality and leadership at the top of that program over the last 13 years.

Where was Joe when his Sandusky, his loyal assistant coach, was raping a 10 year-old boy in his team's facility?

Where was Joe and what did he do after that act was reported to him by a graduate assistant? Following the chain of command? When Sandusky was banned from the Penn State campus in 2002 what possible reason could there have been for it other than that the school knew, and Joe knew, that Sandusky had committed the precise act that was reported to Paterno. And yet those sordid details were apparently kept within the Penn State campus, enabling Sandusky to pursue his twisted habits everywhere else (including, potentially, one of the school's satellite campuses).

Where was Joe, when that loyal assistant retired, at the age of 55 and heir apparent to Joe's throne? What exactly did Joe know at that time about Sandusky? Why did Sandusky retire then, at the peak of his career, and what was his nebulous attachment to the Penn State football program after that? Why was Sandusky still travelling with the team after his retirement, and apparently taking some of his victims (along with his wife) with him to bowl games?

Where was Joe when after Sandusky retired he founded The Second Mile, a charity ostensibly devoted to helping youths from troubled families, but in all likelihood to offer Sandusky a ready supply of young boys to prey upon? The Grand Jury states in its indictment of Sandusky that "[i]t was within The Second Mile program that Sandusky found his victims" which makes Penn State's and Paterno's lack of notice to anyone, including those within the foundation, of what they had to know, what they had to be worried about regarding Sandusky's predilections, all the more heinous. That is, if they were at all concerned about the welfare of children as opposed to, say, the reputation of the University and its lily white football program.

Where was Joe when that student quoted above and others were clashing with police and calling for his return? If he had really planned on devoting the rest of his life to the university after he magnanimously announced on his (and only his) terms when he would step down, shouldn't he have done something? Why not address the crowd and tell them that they were being completely wrong-headed and ill-motivated? Why not ask them where the protests were on behalf of those 7, 8, 9 or more (many, many more perhaps) boys who were abused and forever scarred by Joe's right-hand man when that news broke? Where was the Tweet, text, email, phone call, press release, telegraph, carrier pigeon message telling the students that they were merely heaping more shame on an already shamed institution? That his ability or inability to coach three more football games was not worth that extra layer of tarnish?

Shooting the messenger -- the extra layer of tarnish.

To hear anyone say that Paterno was denied the "right" to retire on his own terms by the Board of Trustees is so galling, so myopic, it defies belief. Paterno lost any right he had to any sort of sympathy, understanding, or deference when he turned his back on the first boy he knew had been violated by Sandusky and lost it even more with every one that followed.

We know where Joe will not be on Saturday when his team takes the field without him for the first time in 60 years. And that is exactly the way it should be.

Down Goes Frazier

2011-11-09T10:42:00.001-05:00

And with him boxing dies a little more.

Smokin' Joe Frazier's death this week has caused me to reminisce about the Golden Age of boxing, or at least the golden age that I knew, from the mid-1960's, through the '80's.

I readily admit that it has always been difficult to defend boxing as a sport. It was, and is, brutal, dangerous, exploitative, and corrupt. One only has to observe the rare public appearance by Mohammad Ali these past few years to understand latent dangers that boxing carries with it, along with the more immediate, and occasionally tragic, ones.

And yet, boxing as I knew it was a great sport and fantastic spectacle. Clay-Liston; Ali-Frazier; Hearns-Leonard; Mancini-Chacon. You don't need first names, or even specific fights, to know exactly who and what I'm talking about. Some great fighters are tied to each other for eternity.

The greatest fights and fighters earned status not accorded to any other sport or competition, not even Super Bowls or World Series. They weren't merely contests, they were world events that came close rivaling the biggest news. Its images were every bit as iconic as those of an anti-war protester offering a flower to a National Guardsman or Neil Armstrong taking that giant leap.

The most famous photo in sports history?

You remembered where you were when a fight happened and what happened, round-by-round. You recognized the fighters, their managers, their trainers, the reporters and analysts, and maybe even the ring announcers, by merely their face or their voice. You marveled at the courage, stamina, strength, and fortitude of fighters who, battered and beaten, found the will to get off of their stool to fight the fifteenth round, even though they had little chance of winning.

And that was part of what made boxing unique. As long as a boxer was in the ring and on his feet, he had a "fighting chance". Announcers talk of "knockout blows" in other sports, but boxing is the only sport where one side can deliver that blow after being beaten for 90% of the contest and impossibly behind in the score.

In boxing, there was always hope.

But boxing wasn't just will and brute strength. Skill, speed, power, hand-eye coordination, strategy, and stamina were all vitally important to deciding the outcome of a particular bout.

Sadly, boxing has been replaced to a large extent in the 21st Century by mixed martial arts fighting. Boxing is the "sweet science," for all the reasons listed above. There is no science to MMA, at least none that I care to discern.

The title to this post, of course, echoes Howard Cosell's famous call from the Frazier-Foreman fight in 1973. Back when prize fights were shown on live television, not only to those willing to fork over half of a week's savings to watch on pay-per-view or a king's ransom to see a fight live. That may be part of what killed boxing, along with greedy promoters and the ridiculous proliferation of world boxing organizations that tried to grab a piece of the pie.

This is not, however, an analysis of what went wrong with boxing or why. It's strictly a remembrance of an athlete we all knew, in a sport we all knew. We'll miss you Joe, along with the pastime that has largely died along with you.

Play Hard, Have Fun

2011-10-28T10:01:00.001-04:00

Before the playoffs began during my last season as Assistant Coach of our team, I decided to try to break the hoodoo that we seemed to have going into the postseason.

At the time, all soccer in West Virginia was played in one division, and our team always faced Capital High School and George Washington, two good soccer schools several times bigger than us, in the sectional (first round) of the playoffs. Although we went in with good teams each of those seasons, we never could get over the hump and beat both in order to progress to regional play.

So before the sectional semi-final in my daughter's senior year (my last as an assistant), I decided to give the girls little slips of paper that had a theme for the playoffs that they could put in their shoes or in their shinguards to take on to the field with them to remind them about what our task was, and perhaps feel a little comfort that those of us on the sidelines were there with them in spirit.

After that first season (in which we lost in the second round) and all my years as head coach, I continued the practice with two changes: our first year of AA-A competition I decided to write a different message for each game and, in one and only one instance, I gave them all a slip before a regular season game.

I tried to hold on to those slips but over the years I lost some, and others were literally washed away by the occasional deluge (I kept them in my worn black bag that accompanied me to every game along with spare keeper gloves, spare shinguards, and my ubiquitous notebooks in which I would scratch my observations of the game and about our and the opposing players).

The ones that survived, or that I recall, I list below, more or less in chronological order. If any former players out there have or remember others, please comment or send me an email so I can add them to the list. Some are self-explanatory, some will be completely cryptic, but that's what makes it fun, I hope.

Next Game.

First time, last time, OUR time.

Play hard -- respect your opponent.

This is our first chance to make history.

We do the ordinary things better.

Anytime, anywhere. Too bad for them it's here and now.

Perfect day, perfect place -- have some fun and play hard.

Play with passion.

Make a statement.

To repeat takes character.

Be Great.

First step to a third star.

Avenge the ball!

Be the greatest.

This is what we play for.

Be smarter, play harder.

And, finally, what were always my last words after our pre-game Hail Mary:

"Play hard, Have fun."

Breaking the huddle at the 2009 State Finals --
right after my customary "Play Hard, Have Fun."

Can You Still Call Me Coach?

2011-10-21T21:59:00.008-04:00

So, I coached my last high school soccer game last night, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it.

Not about the game, which we lost 1-0. I was disappointed with the result, but proud of the way that our little band of 15 battled to the end. I thought I was handling the result, and the end of my "second career," fairly well until I realized that I was still awake at 3 a.m., replaying the game in my head and making different decisions that could have changed the outcome of the match.

But, rather, how I feel about the simple fact that, as of today, I am an ex-coach.

I've always loved so many things about coaching. To be a part of, and lead, a team. The relationship with each and every one of the players that I've coached and the joy and at times frustration that inevitably results. The deep passion to want to succeed and help others succeed. The bond between co-coaches. The give-and-take with the skilled and smart fellow coaches that I was fortunate enough to coach against. Even, believe it or not, my relationship with many referees. Perhaps, most of all, being a teacher.

I received several awards and recognitions during my time as a coach, but two, which do not involve trophies or certificates or plaques, are the most special to me.

Receiving one of my awards, this one from the National Federation of High School Coaches' Association. My expression was unplanned, but captures my bemusement.

The first is the slip of official looking paper that I would receive from the State Board of Education certifying me as a "teacher". When I first started coaching I never thought of myself as an educator, just another coach. But the receipt of that certificate every year struck home the point to me that I was indeed a teacher, with all the responsibility that that position entails, and I was very proud of it.

The second is simply to be called coach.

Almost every time I would call our athletic director, Bill Gillispie, he would respond to my latest request for help with an initial "Hey Coach, how's it going?" And while I always encouraged my players to call me by my first name, and almost all always did (in one variation or another) I have to admit that I was always a little tickled when they would greet me with a "Hi Coach!" rather than a "Kevin!"

I will no longer lead a team onto a field, or try to figure out what will motivate them or how to instruct them to make the most of what they are, or what they can be. But hopefully, in some way or another, I will always be worthy of the title.

Coach.

Winning and Losing

2011-10-08T22:54:00.002-04:00

I haven't written anything about our team's current soccer season so far for several reasons. First, because I've missed a number of practices and several games due to various familial and work obligations. And, second, because I've been struggling with what to say about our team and our season.

Let's face it: it's easy to think of things to write when you're flying high (even if they're not always positive); a little tougher when you're inconsistent. Add to that the fact that I'm conscious of the possibility (although, in all likelihood, not the probability) that a current or future opponent's coach or players could read my posts and perhaps gain some insight into how to play against our team, or obtain bulletin-board material for when we do play them, and there are good reasons why I've been mum to this point.

With the regular season almost at an end, however, I've been assessing what our team, and I, have learned about ourselves this year.

The start to our season was very difficult, as we had suspected it would be. Only 13 players showed up the first day of practice and the girls had to recruit classmates just so we could have a realistic number of players. No rising ninth grade girls play soccer, so there was no infusion of talent from that class. Then, not only did we have a tough schedule, facing two AAA schools and a good Ohio team in a showcase tournament, we were missing three of our players who were not yet eligible.

Things have gotten better since that rough start and while we haven't won as many games as we have gotten used to over the past few years, or in fact in any of the years that I've been the coach, we have improved as a team and perhaps learned some lessons along the way.

Our recent successes have meant that most of the small school teams that we will be paired with in the playoffs still refused to play us this season and as a result our schedule has still been filled for the most part with schools and programs that have several times the students and players that we do. So this season, as in the last few, we've been punching above our weight. But without that killer left hook that we had before.

Our small school brethren, however, may come to regret their decisions not to play us this year. Our team has improved on the field while being tested by many of the best teams in the state, regardless of class. While the results haven't always been what we hoped for, and while we all have never become satisfied with losing, we have learned to be pleased with the improvements in our effort and performance even in those losses. And our difficult schedule has required both players and coaches to be able to adapt to a variety of line-ups and positions in order to meet the challenges that each team has presented.

That improvement was evident today, as we battled our friendly rival University to a standstill in the first half, before eventually losing 2-0. But, for an extended period in the second half, we actually had them on their heels and played our best soccer of the season so far.

The saying goes that losing builds character. I'm not sure that's true. But I do believe that adversity reveals character and gives you the opportunity to grow, much more so than easy success does. While losing is clearly not as much fun as winning, the character building that our team has undergone this season may be exactly what we needed to ultimately be successful this season. The next two, or three, or four weeks will reveal just how much we've improved from the experience.

The Klinsmann Era Begins

2011-09-21T12:15:00.000-04:00

So, rather than jumping to conclusions based on the U.S. men's national team's first match in the Klinsmann Era (which, after all, came only 10 day after Jurgen Klinsmann's appointment as manager and was against our biggest rival, Mexico), I thought I'd wait a while to see how the dust settles.

After all, Klinsmann himself insists that that this is all part of a "process" that goes far beyond a win or a loss in a friendly.

Good thing.

The team looked close to abysmal in the first half of the match against Mexico, with a line-up and a level of play that was, frankly, reminiscent of its effort against Tres Colores in the Gold Cup Final. Second best at best, the Yanks chased the ball and, on those rare occasions when they actually won it, looked largely inept with it at their feet.

After the half, though, the Americans played inspired soccer, at least in part because Mexico substituted some of its best players, most notably Rafael Marquez. Klinsmann moved players around and freed up Landon Donovan to play a more pivotal role in the offense. The change was so dramatic, in fact, that I wondered if Klinsmann wasn't tweaking U.S. Soccer and his predecessor, Bob Bradley, by showing the contrast of the way things were under Bradley in the first half, and the way they will be under Klinsmann in the second.

Juan Agudelo, Brek Shea, and Jose Torres celebrate Robbie Rogers'
equalizer against Mexico, while Rogers runs to join in.

Unfortunately, things didn't improve, and in fact regressed, in the squad's next two matches. Using a variety of U.S.-based and European based players, the Americans lost 1-0 to Costa Rica in California and to Belgium by the same score in Brussels.

The U.S. dominated the Costa Rica match, wasting several opportunities to score in the first half while dominating possession. The second half was more even, although Los Ticos scored on their only really quality chance of the entire match. The Americans looked less threatening against the Belgians, although Clint Dempsey (absent from both the Mexico and Costa Rica matches due to club obligations) had several good chances.

Should we hit the panic button after a less-than-impressive start under Klinsmann? Should we pine for the good old days of Bradley or Arena? I don't think so.

While a skeptic may ascribe Klinsmann's talk of patience and process as excuses, I think he truly believes them. His plan for his job goes far beyond the performance of the U.S. Men's National Team and extends to the youth program as well. A measure of his approach is apparent as well in his unorthodox decision to employ a number of temporary assistant coaches in the early stages of his reign to garner input from a variety of sources, both close to the national team program and to MLS.

He has also already given opportunities to a number of young players who were only on the fringes of the full national team prior to his arrival. Brek Shea, Robbie Rogers, and Jose Torres have all figured prominently in the offense since Klinsmann's arrival. Torres' consistent inclusion in the center of midfield is particularly noteworthy as he was rarely called upon by Bob Bradley who preferred two defensive midfielders in his formation and his playmaking and imagination give the team something that it sorely lacked under Bradley. Klinsmann has tested out a number of defenders as well -- Timmy Chandler has looked particularly impressive while Michael Oroczo Fiscal and Edgar Castillo have had inconsistent efforts.

Jose Torres on the ball.

The biggest problem, and the one that Klinsmann may be unable to solve, is up front. The U.S. lacks a true target man at forward. Jozy Altidore and Juan Agudelo have had the lion's share of opportunities so far, but have failed to score.

Altidore works hard, but hasn't seemed particularly threatening in the opponent's defensive third. Fortunately, Altidore is for the first time in several years getting regular playing opportunities with his club team (Dutch side AZ Alkmaar) and it's easy to forget that despite his 40 caps for the Men's squad, Altidore is only 22. Agudelo has come on mostly as a substitute and, like Altidore, at the tender age of 18 still has plenty of time to grow as a player. He's great on the ball, but seems to lack the poacher's instinct required of a striker, particularly when playing alone up top as seems to be Klinsmann's preference when it comes to formations.

Still, while there are uncertainties, Klinsmann's willingness to look at young new players adds an air of excitement and anticipation to the team, much as his ascension to the job did. While we wait to see how the process works in the end, it will at least be an interesting ride getting there.

Turning Out The Lights

2011-08-05T21:45:00.006-04:00

The final episode of the television series "Friday Night Lights" was aired on NBC a few weeks ago, and while I have not been a wholly faithful viewer, I will miss it.

In case you haven't seen it (and, to paraphrase Bob Uecker, judging by the ratings most of you have not), Friday Night Lights was set in the fictional town of Dillon, Texas, and centered around high school football coach Eric Taylor and his family. It never attracted a strong viewership, apparently at least in part because NBC never made up its mind whether to market it to men as a football show or to women as a family show.

But to me, plain and simple, it was a coach's show. And not just any one. The best, ever.

Sure, there were lots of story lines and sub-plots that were compelling. The show did a great job of examining, honestly and unblinkingly, small-town America issues like alcoholism, teenage pregnancy, and military service that many face. My favorite character in the show (other than Eric Taylor), Tim Riggins (portrayed masterfully by actor Taylor Kitsch), was at times a James Dean anti-hero, at times a full-blown Pat Tillman-esque hero.

There are many other memorable characters as well. Landry and Vince and Buddy and Matt and Smash all deal with problems that many high school athletes, parents, and supporters face.

But the one thing that they all have in common is that they were changed by Coach Taylor, and shaped forever, and forever to the better, by being a part of his team. Every episode had at least one scene where, even if you're not a coach, even if you never wanted to be a coach, you would get "it" when you watched.

Eric Taylor was admittedly a tougher coach on his players than I am, which is one thing that I admire about him. But it was always "tough love" not just tough. He truly cared about his players, and that concern would always shine through in the end. Here's Coach Taylor at his most imspirational:

But Taylor wasn't always concerned about winning or losing, at least not just on the football field. While I sometimes wish I was the Coach Taylor above, I hope I am sometimes the Coach Taylor below:

The good news is that ESPN Classic has purchased the rights to Friday Night Lights and is re-airing the first season now. If you are a coach, ever wanted to be a coach, or ever wondered what the heck makes coaches tick, I highly recommend you tune in.

Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose.

Team of Destiny, Meet Team of Destiny

2011-07-17T21:36:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I really don't feel much like writing a post about the U.S. vs. Japan match. Or anything else, for that matter.

As an objective observer/soccer fan you have to be more than a little happy for a plucky Japanese team that had more of a never-say-die attitude than the Americans, who had made that their trademark in this World Cup. And that whole tsunami thing undoubtedly makes this a "feel good" story not only in Japan but worldwide.

Except here. Japan didn't win this one; we gave it away. I wanted to pummel Ian Darke when he kept wondering if the U.S. would rue its repeated missed opportunities in the first 30 minutes of the match, but that was mostly because I suspected he was right (and for God's sake will someone please buy Julie Foudy a calculator?).

Still, those misses shouldn't have mattered. You have to be able to defend a one goal lead in the last ten minutes of any match. And particularly a World Cup Final against a team that had, for 80 minutes, displayed a remarkable lack of finishing ability and had failed to pose a single legitimate offensive threat.

It was the first of the two Japanese goals that was particularly heinous. Horrible, desperate defending when it wasn't necessary or called for. Usually you speak of offensive players who "choke" but it certainly appeared that it was the U.S. defenders who did exactly that, gifting Miyama an opportunity she didn't deserve but, to her credit, she put away.

Not the celebration U.S. fans were hoping to see,
particularly in the 116th minute with the lead.

When Sawa scored the second, with only four minutes to play in extra time, it seemed to seal the deal. It wasn't the U.S. that would be the improbable winner in this match. The shootout was awful to watch and, surely, worse to actually participate in.

So we're left with a lot of good memories and renewed attention, at least temporarily, to soccer in general and women's soccer in particular in this country. But oh, what could have been, if only we had decided to clear the ball upfield instead of treating it like a pinball in our own six-yard box.

And, if nothing else, this match proved exactly what makes soccer unique among all sports: one team can dominate another and still lose. That is indeed what makes soccer so maddening, and so irresistible at the same time.

The next Women's World Cup is in Canada. Anyone else in?

C'mon In Girls, the Water's Fine

2011-07-11T13:18:00.001-04:00

Yeah, yeah, you've read this before. Or something close to it anyway.

The difference is fans of women's soccer in the United States don't need an introduction to the sport or to World Cup thrills.

But just as a year ago Landon Donovan and the U.S. men gave us 90 minutes of tension and then jubilation, so too Abby Wambach and the U.S. women (and a less-than-helpful Australian referee) gave us 122 minutes of nail-biting thrills against Brazil in the Women's World Cup yesterday and then tacked on a penalty shootout for good measure.

Megan Rapinoe and Abby Wambach celebrate Wambach's goal
(and Rapinoe's cross that set it up) at the death against Brazil.

Yesterday's match was the re-invigoration of soccer in our country that we so needed. Instead of its earliest ever exit from the World Cup, Wambach and her resilient, never-say-die teammates gave us a match for the ages and a lesson that makes us all feel a little bit better about the sport in our country. And maybe ourselves.

There's still a long way to go, no doubt about that. The Americans have to beat the surprising French in the semifinal and, if they get past Les Blues, either a team that has already bested them in this tournament (Pia Sundhage's native Sweden), or a Japan team that knocked out the favorites Germany in the quarterfinals.

While you have to like their chances, regardless of what happens in the semifinals and final, this game will likely be remembered as the match of the 2011 Women's World Cup, or perhaps any women's World Cup. Just as Donovan's goal, while ultimately not leading to a World Cup (or even a spot in the quarterfinals), was an example of grit and determination, so to the women's victory demonstrated guts, and heart, and most of all belief in the value of team.

Wambach's perfect header.

At the very least, the women made a believer out of their coach. "I come from Sweden," said Sundhage after the match, "and this American attitude, pulling everything together and bringing out the best performance in each other, that is contagious. I am very, very proud, and I'm very, very happy to be the coach of the U.S. team."

The U.S. women faced a daunting task when the match began against a squad with the five-time defending world player of the year in Marta and several other teammates with, honestly, more flair than that possessed by any American player. An early own goal by Brazil seemed at the time a gift (the only one the Yanks received all evening), but may have caused them to play more tentatively as a result.

It would be easy to dwell on the negatives of the next two hours of soccer that followed that first goal. Horrible refereeing decision upon bad. Cynical play and play-acting by the Brazilians. Even, surprisingly, at times clueless commentary by the usually fine Ian Darke and Julie Fouty (90 plus 15 plus 15 equals 120, not 115 y'all). More globally, whether it's good that the women's game appears to be evolving into the same bad-tempered, cynical affair that marks the men's game. Or whether our apparent malaise regarding women's soccer is indicative of a misogynistic turn that my favorite soccer blogger, Fake Sigi, thinks our nation has taken in the last 12 years.

But we'll leave all that for another day (if ever). Now is the time to just revel. In the accomplishments of a team of resolute women who ignored at best horrible misfortune and at worst a stacking of the deck against them. In a team that stuck to the task at hand and believed, when all seemed lost, that they would persevere.

Or, as Wambach said after the match: "I think that is a perfect example of what this country is about. What the history of this team has always been. We never give up. We literally went to the last second it seems."

The reference in the title to this post is to the Donovan goal a year ago, and to Delmar's invitation to join the nation of believers in O Brother Where Art Thou? But perhaps a better observation from Delmar for yesterday's game, and our reaction to it, comes after Delmar thinks that he has discovered that his fellow escapee Pete in an altered state. "Them syreens did this to Pete." says Delmar. "They loved him up and turned him into a toad."

What's the state of U.S. soccer? For at least one day, it's about as good as it can get, thanks to the sirens of our national team. Color us grey and cover us with warts for all we care.

Can You Demand Support?

2011-07-06T22:41:00.004-04:00

The recent National Team matches between the U.S. Men's soccer team and Mexico and the Women's team and Sweden have had me pondering the nature of support of national teams.

Ask anyone who is a fan raised in a football culture and they will tell you club comes before country. In America, however, it's a little different. Unless you're 15 years old or younger, you were born at a time when there was no major professional league in the country. So for my generation, and the one that preceded me, the national team was the team of first allegiance. Maybe that's why I have trouble understanding Americans who root for other countries against "their" nation in any competition.

My Grandfather emigrated from Sweden in his early adulthood and I am extremely proud of my Scandinavian heritage, as well as his accomplishments and assimilation into American life. But I would never think of rooting for Sweden to beat the U.S. Sweden is what I claim as my nation of origin, my heritage. The United States is my country.

The Swedish national team badge.

So while the Swedes made the American women look very ordinary in their World Cup match Wednesday, I felt no elation. Frustration, yes. But the team I was rooting for wore white and the badge of U.S. soccer and they were and are my team.

As noted in my previous post, that is not the case with Hispanic fans who root on Mexico against their adopted homeland, America. While I am far from those who insist on making English the official language of the United States, and have established a track record of non-jingoism, I am troubled by the fact that the American men are the "away" team when they play Mexico almost anywhere within the contiguous 48 states.

The rationalization of one Mexican national team supporter at the Gold Cup final was this: "I love this country, it has given me everything that I have, and I'm proud to be part of it," said Victor Sanchez, a 37-year-old Monrovia resident wearing a Mexico jersey. "But yet, I didn't have a choice to come here, I was born in Mexico, and that is where my heart will always be."

I'm sorry Victor, but, unless you were forced across the border at gun point, yes, in fact, you did have a choice. You chose to come to the land of opportunity over your native land, much as my Grandfather did. And now you turn your back on it.

There are several solutions to this situation. The most obvious is to cultivate a large enough following of the U.S. national team that supporters that they will purchase tickets instead of the Mexican fans.

The second is to hold to matches in areas that are not traditional "strongholds" of Mexican national team support (i.e., Los Angeles). The most memorable soccer match I have ever attended was in Columbus, Ohio. In February.

U.S. Soccer finally decided to turn the tables on our neighbors to the South, who generally make us play in the smog-filled thin air of Mexico City for our national team matches against them, and set our first qualifying match for the 2002 World Cup in Columbus. Mother Nature, with a wink and a nod, complied with the plan and served up weather that was 29F at kick-off, with the wind chill in the teens.

The Mexican team never had a chance, emerging shivering from its locker room only minutes before kick-off only to find the Americans already on the field, most memorably for me Tony Sanneh in shirt sleeves. Even with Brian McBride, local Columbus Crew hero and the Americans' top striker, forced out early with a golf ball sized knot on his face, the Yanks dominated and won 2-0.

The third solution is the one that the democrat (little "d") in me whispers in my ear while I curse the pro-Mexican crowds is to make those fans feel a little more American. Maybe, it says, it was easier for your Grandpa and his son and his son's son because they had fair hair and blue eyes. Maybe, if we spent a little less time building walls (real and metaphorical) to keep immigrants out they would feel a little more American.

Pia Sundhage, the U.S. women's national team coach, is Swedish. I seriously doubt that anyone will accuse her of throwing the game against Sweden (although why Megan Rapinoe played for 72 minutes is completely beyond me). Would the same be true if Bob Bradley was of Mexican heritage?

Regardless of why, or what the short-term solution may be, the bottom line is that you can't dictate allegiance. It has to be earned. So, at least for the short run, Victor and his many companions will continue to support their country of origin over their country of opportunity. And I (and Tim Howard) will just have to learn to deal with it. After all Tim, that match in Columbus? It's forever known in Mexico as La Guerra Fria ("The Cold War"). Sounds way cooler in Spanish.

Not All That Great

2011-06-30T21:43:00.003-04:00

That is, the state of American soccer isn't all that great.

The men were pounded by Mexico and the women looked less than convincing in their win against North Korea, which apparently would have been a loss had the Koreans not suffered tragic misfortune in the days leading up to the World Cup.

The men had a dream start to their Gold Cup final against Mexico, scoring twice in the first half hour of the match to take a 2-0 lead. The next hour, however, was basically an evisceration of the Yanks' defense as Mexico showed off all of its attacking talent and at the same time exposed the weakness and lack of depth of the American backline.

An overwhelmingly pro-Mexico crowd and the delivery of the post-match honors primarily in Spanish rankled both American supporters and some of their players, but were just salt in the wounds for a disappointing performance in the tournament as a whole and particularly in the final. While their defensive deficiencies can be explained by some extent to the early substitution of right back Steve Cherundolo, it's hard to believe that his presence would have made much of a difference, with central defenders Carlos Bocanegra and Clarence Goodson looking slow and Cherundolo's replacement Jonathan Bornstein completely out of his element.

Giovani Dos Santos jukes Tim Howard just before scoring
the goal of the Tournament, sealing Mexico's 4-2 win

Post-match commentary has been critical of coach Bob Bradley, suggesting that it is time for him to go so that a new man may be in place and fully in charge before World cup qualifying begins. Given that Bradley received a new four year contract shortly after the last World Cup, a replacement seems unlikely, although U.S. Soccer President Sunil Gulati seemed somewhat equivocal regarding his confidence in Bradley immediately following the Mexico match.

I think Bradley is in a damned if he does and damned if he doesn't situation -- criticized for being predictable, he actually tried some new things at the Gold Cup that worked (featuring Freddy Adu, then starting him, with considerable success, in the final; installing Eric Lichaj at left back) and some that didn't (mostly, naming Bornstein to the squad in the first place). The biggest thing that Bradley seems to have in his favor is that contract, and the fact that by all appearances U.S. Soccer attempted to find a big profile successor after the 2010 World Cup without success.

The women started their World Cup with a 2-0 over North Korea. The North Koreans were very young (10 players on their roster are under 20) and were technically skilled and the more consistently dangerous team in the first half, which ended 0-0. The Americans ramped up their attack in the second half and won 2-0.

Lauren Cheney (12) celebrates her crucial first goal against North Korea.

After the match, perhaps keeping in mind the humiliation to which the North Korean men's squad was subjected after their 2010 World Cup, the Korean coach explained the "real" reason why his team lost. Lightning. That's right, Kim-Kwang-min claimed that his keeper and his defenders (or strikers, depending on the translation) were victims of a lightning strike in training leading up to the match, leading to their substandard performance in the second half.

While the U.S. women probably won't have to hope that the Colombian women, their next opponents, suffered a similar fate in order to beat them, they will still have to show improvement, or hope for divine intervention, before facing Sweden (to whom they lost 2-1 in January) in the final match of group play, which will likely determine which team will be the number one seed in the group entering the knockout phase of the tournament.

What Exactly Is The State of U.S. Soccer?

2011-06-22T21:59:00.003-04:00

With the United States men's national team in the midst of the Gold Cup and the women's team preparing for their World Cup which begins in Germany later this month, I've been thinking about where were are as a soccer nation and whether things are improving or not.

The men have not looked particularly good so far despite making it to the final after beating Panama 1-0 in the semis. The best news is probably that the U.S. was not in the same bracket as Mexico and will only have to play Los Tricolores once, in the final. Panama had beaten the U.S. 2-1 in group play in this tournament so the semi-final win was a measure of redemption or revenge for a team that had never before lost in group play in the Gold Cup.

The way that Mexico is playing, however, second may be the best that the U.S. can hope for in this Gold Cup. Given the way the Americans both won the Gold Cup in 2007 and finished first in CONCACAF qualifying leading to the 2010 World Cup, that concession is disturbing.

Clint Dempsey celebrates his goal against Jamaica.

Mexico looks like the younger, more innovative squad right now as the Yanks struggle to assimilate new players into the established backbone of Landon Donovan, Clint Dempsey, Jozy Altidore, Michael Bradley, Steve Cherundolo, and Tim Howard. Heck, even Freddie Adu (remember him?) played a role in the only goal against Panama in the semis.

While the men have time to sort things out before the rigors of World Cup qualifying, the U.S. women enter their World Cup next week far from the role of clear favorites that they once enjoyed. Although the women's team is currently ranked first in the world, and won the gold medal at the Beijing Olympics, they have endured a string of inconsistent results in the past year.

After dominating World Cup qualifying for the past decade, the U.S. women lost to Mexico in the CONCACAF tournament semifinal and had to beat Italy in a two-legged play-in to even reach the World Cup. They followed that up with a series of matches earlier this year, again with some inconsistent results.

Germany seems the odds-on favorite to win the WWC, as the host and after winning the last two (the U.S. finished third in both). Brazil and the U.S. lead the second tier of contenders, with Canada, Japan, and Sweden possibilities as well.

While the U.S. women are led by an experienced group including Abby Wambach and captain Christie Rampone, there are a number of younger players on the roster that could see significant playing time and perhaps tilt the scales in the Yanks' favor. Forwards Amy Rodriguez and Alex Morgan in particular may help inject some speed and youth into an attack that has seemed relatively predictable against well-organized defenses.

There certainly isn't the hype and anticipation for this team that surrounded the 1999 edition, even before Brandi Chastain took off her shirt.

The most famous picture in women's soccer history.

There was a time, even after the men's World Cup was held in the U.S. in 1994 and MLS started in 1996, when there seemed to be as much interest, or more, in the women's national team than the men. Whether because of the retirement of magnetic personalities and players like Mia Hamm, Julie Foudy, and Christine Lilly, or the disappointing finishes in recent tournaments that seem attributable in part to too many coaching changes or questionable coaching decisions on the national team, the women no longer enjoy much of the spotlight here.

The hope is that Wambach and company can restore a little of that luster this summer in Germany. After all, there's only one national team from the U.S. (and North America, for that matter) that has won a World Cup.

Keep On Rockin' In The Free World

2011-06-15T12:14:00.002-04:00

For the second summer in a row, I recently spent several days reliving my youth and feeling rather aged. This time, the wound was strictly self-inflicted.

As you may have guessed from various references to song lyrics in some of my posts, I am a music aficionado. Not a musician in any sense, mind you, but a fan of music. As are my brother, Jeff and my son, Ethan. And, I suspect, most of you as well.

Jeff, Ethan, and I (and, technically, my nephew Lee, who neither Ethan nor I saw the entire time) spent last weekend baking in the sun, breathing dust-laden Southern Tennessee air, and having our senses assaulted (mostly pleasantly), with 80,000 other folks at Bonnaroo. For the uninitiated, Bonnaroo is a music festival held in Manchester, Tennessee, for the past ten years.

The "What" Stage at Bonnaroo with Colin Meloy of The Decemberists.

I went mostly to see musicians that are currently popular. The Decemberists topped my "must see" list as Ethan and I headed off on our seven hour car ride, with Arcade Fire, Matt & Kim, and Florence + The Machine close behind. But part of the magic of festivals is getting caught up in the excitement of "discovering" someone you hadn't heard, or heard of, before, or simply getting stuck in a crowd that makes your departure to another venue next-to-impossible, or nearly life-threatening.

So I only heard one song from Florence + The Machine, albeit the one I most wanted to hear, but that was okay. If the devil is in the details, then there are devils aplenty when there are at least five different venues hosting acts at the same time.

One of the acts I wasn't all that interested in catching was Buffalo Springfield. But my brother convincingly noted that "Neil Young can't live much longer" so he and I went to see Neil along with original band mates Richie Furay and Stephen Stills. The sound wasn't great, but we managed to scratch and claw our way through the crowd (helped by a few rolls of thunder which spooked some of the fair-weather fans) until we got good positions near the end of the set. Stills (still in great voice) sang the band's one hit ("For What It's Worth") and he and Young dueled on their guitars through several songs.

The seminal moment of the concert, and the entire festival for me as it turned out, came with the last song that Young introduced by saying "this is to show you what it would have been like had we done this" (in response to which Jeff said "he's a crazy old dude") then launched into the machine-gun-staccato guitar chords of "Rockin' In The Free World." When he got to the guitar solo bridge, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and I was convinced that: 1) Jeff had done me a huge favor by talking me into seeing them; 2) Neil would never die; and 3) like Neil, I was in the right place, still rockin' in the free world.

Here are some of my other observations from the weekend:

If Arcade Fire ever plays within 500 miles of where you live, run, drive, swim, do whatever it takes to immediately purchase tickets. Honestly the best concert I have ever seen, anywhere, anytime. Musicianship, showmanship, "big venue" sound and feel -- these guys were made to play on the big stage.

Matt & Kim are impossibly "cute," energetic, and (incongruously) foul-mouthed, which in some strange way adds to their charm. And they make music that defies you to not dance.

Dust is an unpleasant condiment, but is better than sand.

The Decemberists' Colin Meloy is our finest songwriter working his craft today. Period.

We have lost the War on Drugs (Jeff's wry, inarguable conclusion).

If Ben Sollee's day job doesn't pan out, he will apparently be available to play weddings and bar mitzvahs. The guy was seemingly at every show ready to play cello if asked (and maybe if not . . . ).

Showers are always optional.

Eminem is a better Detroit export than either Chrysler or Kid Rock.

Ninety percent of people who view little or no clothing as a viable fashion choice really shouldn't.

Iron and Wine are apparently trying to remake themselves into a "jam band" along the lines of The Grateful Dead or Phish. Don't bite.

John Waters is still kooky and still cool.

The Strokes rock.

You can too.

The Emperor's New Clothes in the Digital Age

2011-06-05T16:16:00.004-04:00

"But he isn't wearing anything at all!"

While reading articles this week about OSU football coach Jim Tressel's resignation and an op ed piece in the New York Times about the Syrian government's attempts to squelch the use of the internet by that country's dissidents, I was struck by how similar, and similarly naive, the reactions of both have been to media in the digital age.

Much as the emperor's tailors hoodwinked him into believing that his fine garments could only be seen by those smart enough, or worthy enough of his station, to see them so too both the Ohio State administration and the Syrian regime seem to think that despite the explosion of communication technology and instant news, whether via Facebook, Twitter, or on-line publications, it's still business as usual when it comes to the dissemination of information.

"You only need to know what we tell you," they seemed to say, "and that should be good enough." Unfortunately for both, however, news is not something that can be easily controlled these days, whether via a press conference or security checks asking dissidents if they "have a Facebook" on their laptops.

Today there are millions of children itching to expose the emperors for what they are -- naked posers. And they're increasingly willing to do it at the cost of their careers, or even their lives.

While this is somewhat understandably lost on the despotic government in Syria, the naivete of those in charge at Ohio State, particularly its President Gordon Gee and its Athletic Director Gene Smith, both of whom are among the highest paid college administrators in their positions in the country, is astonishing.

Tressel's transgressions certainly aren't -- after all, he's been cheating for 20 years now. Perhaps the only surprise is that, with that much practice at plausible deniability, he finally got caught.

As news slowly leaked out that Tressel knew of his players' NCAA infractions, failed to inform the administration or the NCAA about them despite his obligation to do so, and then lied to the NCAA on reporting forms about the absence of violations, Gee and Smith were faced with two choices: realize that the jig was up and try to salvage some part of the football program's (not to mention the academic institution's) reputation; or pretend that Emperor Tressel really was wearing the finest sweater vest ever created, invisible to all who weren't worthy of seeing it.

That they chose the later course, and the way that they did it, bowing and scraping at the Emperor's feet, makes for great, though squeamish, theatre.

Not much doubt after that about who was running the asylum, the lengths to which the OSU administration would go to hold on to Tressel, or the fact that Gee and Smith had gone "all in" with the strategy that they could convince the press that it was time for everyone to move on, nothing more to see.

It wasn't Facebook or Twitter that ultimately took down Tressel, and presumably left Gee and Smith to try to cover their tracks by forcing his resignation, but rather Yahoo, Ohio State's own student newspaper, The Lantern, and Tressel's damning emails.

While the editor of The Lantern hasn't actually been harmed yet for his journalistic integrity, not surprisingly he has been threatened. And, no, not even this University of Michigan fan would go so far as to compare the ruthlessness of the Syrian government to Buckeye Nation. But the similarly naive approach to the dissemination of information in the digital age is certainly there.

The lesson that should be learned, maybe not for Gee or Smith, certainly not for Tressel, is that "the news" is increasingly an amorphous being with a life of its own. It can no longer be controlled or even managed, only explained and ultimately acknowledged.

We may be facing a similar situation in our state as information and rumors slowly leak out about WVU football's Dauphin Prince's (Dana Holgorsen) escapades at a local casino, and perhaps elsewhere. One can only hope that Mountaineer A.D. Oliver Luck, who appears to be very bright and media savvy, will take a different approach than Smith and Gee did, although the early signs do not look good. At least odds are that Luck won't wear a bow tie at his press conference, if there is one.

Has It Been a Year Already?

2011-05-24T23:29:00.007-04:00

This blog had its first birthday a week ago last Saturday. I hope you've enjoyed reading and found at least some posts of interest along the way.

Sometimes I feel I'm still trying to find my "voice" here, other times I've hit on something that is exactly what I hoped to do (particularly the posts about Dick Winters and Jim Tracy). And I think my love of coaching and soccer came through in the two posts linked in this sentence. Please, let me know what you like and don't like, what you'd like to see more of or less of, as we head into our second season.

Here are some follow-up bits (in no particular order) to a few of this last year's posts that you might find interesting:

Rovers survived the drop, winning on the final day of the season to cement their place in the Premier League for another year. You can read about the final match here. Oh, and both West Ham and Birmingham were relegated (pity).

The Red Rose of Lancaster on Rovers' badge

FIFA President Sepp Blatter, facing opposition in his reelection bid, has promised to have an "investigation" of or "discussion" with a former employee of Qatar's successful World Cup 2022 bid who has claimed to know of at least two FIFA executive committee members who were paid $1.5 million bribes for their pro-Qatar votes. Say it ain't so Sepp! Apparently Blatter does not perceive a distinction between a discussion and an investigation . . .

The New York Times ran an fascinating article on the genius of Lionel Messi this past Sunday. Check out the piece, then watch Messi and his Barca pals take on Manchester United this Saturday in the UEFA Champions' League Final at Wembley.

Messi airborne against Real Madrid

Bob Bradley announced the U.S. roster for the Gold Cup this summer. Jermaine Jones was named in the squad, but not Teal Bunbury.

Finally, Champion (a sporting goods company) cancelled Rashard Mendenhall's endorsement contract with them because of his Bin Laden tweet. In a statement announcing the decision, Champion concluded that it did not believe that Mendenhall could "appropriately represent Champion" due to some of the comments in the tweet. The free speech advocate in me has no problem with Champion deciding it doesn't want to pay Mendenhall endorse its products. The lawyer in me, though, wonders what the contract language was that Champion relied on in making the decision and whether it was a "morals" clause or if Champion just had the unilateral right to cancel for any reason it deemed appropriate.

The Other Major Fringe Sport

2011-05-20T22:10:00.003-04:00

The Red Wings are gone, but my illicit affair with hockey continues.

I admit that I am at best a casual hockey fan these days. During the regular season, I don't go looking for televised games (mostly because I rarely surf past "Versus") and even if I find a game I don't watch unless my Red Wings happen to be playing.

While I grew up in Michigan, I never was a hockey player. I can't skate worth a darn, which is a major drawback. My brother and some friends would occasionally push a ball or puck (I think we had a few at some point) along a frozen pond, but not much more.

Still, I was a hockey fan, and particularly a Red Wings fan. I would watch the grainy"Hockey Night in Canada" coverage courtesy of CKLW in Windsor and follow the results in the sports section. Gordie Howe was still a Red Wing and Alex Delvecchio was my hockey hero (along with non-Wings Bobby Hull and Bobby Orr). Those Wings weren't particularly good (I can remember only one, brief, playoff appearance in the early to mid-'70's), but they were still my team.

Much to my delight, the Wings have become the New York Yankees of the NHL over the last decade and a half, winning four of the last 15 Stanley Cups, most recently in 2008. Through shrewd drafting and splashy (for hockey) free agent signings, they have built as close to a dynasty as you can get in hockey, where few players stay with one team for more than a few seasons.

These days I don't pay much attention to professional hockey until the playoffs start, or it's the Winter Olympics. But I should. Hockey is good television sport (better, at least, than the favorite sport of my youth, baseball) and a fantastic sport to watch in person. It has its own unique sounds (smacking sticks on the ice to call for a puck; dueling sticks digging in the corner for a puck; the "PING!" of the puck hitting the post or crossbar), its own lexicon (grinder; goon; blocker; butterfly -- and that's only two of 26 letters . . . ) and its own smells (sweaty gloves and rotting octopi).

Best of all, it is a team sport where doing the "little things" matters to whether a team will win or not. Sure, there are glamour players today as there were 30 years ago, but having one, or even several, doesn't guarantee success. Even the Edmonton Oilers of Wayne Gretzky needed defensemen, defensive forwards, and a great goaltender to be a great team. In contrast to the NBA, where a coach can be criticized for benching a "superstar" even when his team wins, on the road, in the conference finals, the NHL is all about team, not player.

More than any sport other than perhaps lacrosse, hockey also reminds me of soccer in that spacing between players, and being able to take advantage of the space, is crucial to a good offense just as closing down that space and cutting off passing lanes is crucial to a good defense. That and, for one game and even an entire playoff series, the more talented team doesn't always win. The roll of the puck, the hot goaltender, the fringe player who somehow finds himself scoring a hat trick, are all variables that can affect a game or series.

So, go ahead, watch Labron and Dwyane and Dirk and Kobe (heh, heh, okay, not Kobe) in the next few weeks. But take some time to watch Martin and Tim and Joe too. I guarantee you'll learn more about teamwork and the importance of team, not to mention good fortune, watching that puck skitter across the ice.

Patriotic Correctness Run Amok

2011-05-05T16:08:00.005-04:00

One of the Cardinal Rules of Blogging, I was told, is that you should never, ever blog about politics (unless, of course, it's a political blog) or religion (unless, of course, it's a religious blog), lest you risk offending portions of your audience.

It appears that I am about to kill two cardinals with one stone.

The self-righteous outrage over Rashard Mendenhall's reaction to the celebrations of Osama Bin Laden's death has pushed me over the edge.

According to ESPN, Mendenhall tweeted (in part) shortly after news of Bin Laden's death was announced: "What kind of person celebrates death? It's amazing how people can HATE a man they have never even heard speak. We've only heard one side... I believe in God. I believe we're ALL his children. And I believe HE is the ONE and ONLY judge. Those who judge others, will also be judged themselves. For those of you who said you want to see Bin Laden burn ... I ask how would God feel about your heart?"

Mendenhall's tweets set off a storm of controversy that ultimately led the Steelers' team President Art Rooney II (the son of Dan Rooney, former Steelers' President, noted Democratic benefactor, and now Ambassador to Ireland) to issue the following statement: "I have not spoken with Rashard, so it is hard to explain or even comprehend what he meant with his recent Twitter comments. The entire Steelers organization is very proud of the job our military personnel have done and we can only hope this leads to our troops coming home soon."

I do not agree with all of Mendenhall's thoughts (particularly the "we'll never know what really happened" comment about the World Trade Center attacks), but it isn't very difficult to "explain or even comprehend what he meant" by most of his tweet. He was disturbed by the jingoistic bacchanalia related to news of Bin Laden's death.

In this day of Patriotic Correctness, however, freedom of expression is not a two-way street.

Nothing in Mendenhall's tweets, at least what I've read or seen, questioned our troops, the "job [they've] done," or whether he wants our troops to come home (as one can assume from the context he does). His target was the revelers, not the cause of the revelry. And his religious references might just make one think he has a point, both about the celebration of another's demise as well as whether anyone should cast the first stone.

The reaction to Mendenhall's comments, particularly by the Steelers, called to my mind the incessant American flag lapel pin criticism of President Obama. The Patriotically Correct, you'll surely recall, highlighted then candidate Obama's failure to wear a flag lapel pin, fashionable since 9/11, as proof of his supposed unpatriotic/anti-American attitude. While he explained that he felt that the pin had become a "substitute for true patriotism," ultimately he succumbed to the political pressure and started wearing it again.

At least he wasn't popping out of a tank . . .

Sadly, Mendenhall seems to have caved in to the same sort of pressure, issuing a clarification of his tweets. There is nothing in the retweet that is radically different from the thoughts that Mendenhall expressed, although he felt obliged to make it clear that he is and was not a Bin Laden supporter.

More troubling to me than Mendenhall's tweet are the reactions by some members of the public, the media, and the Steelers to the comments. Or perhaps better put, the lack of reactions to those reactions.

We live in an age when we allow a vocal, strident minority to constantly evaluate and pass judgment on what is and is not patriotic behavior. The silent majority has grown weary of the constant sniping regarding flag and country and has decided, as I often have, that getting involved in the debate isn't worth the price (being called anti-American oneself, subjecting oneself to similar vitriol) to fight the good fight.

Enough is enough.

Evelyn Beatrice Hall paraphrased Voltaire's thoughts in the famous, succinct phrase: "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." In our age of Patriotic Correctness, we no longer risk death, or even character assassination, to defend the right to say what one thinks at the risk that it may be construed by some as unpatriotic. Instead, we stand silently by as a few who have wrapped themselves in the flag and assumed the mantle of arbiters of all that is or is not "American" decide how to attack the free speech of others.

Whether we should even care what a professional athlete thinks about politics or religion is, of course, a valid question (just as easily, whether anyone should care what a blogging lawyer/soccer coach thinks about anything is equally valid). But being concerned about the right to say something is very different than caring about what is said. The freedom of expression has been slowly chipped away at for 10 years, not by our government as was long ago feared, but rather by the tyranny of the minority, primarily and ironically through the vehicles of the media, blogging, and social media.

Rashard, keep on telling us how you feel. I wasn't listening before. But from now on I'll defend to the death your right to speak, and my right to listen to what you have to say.

There Is "No Need to Fail when Success is Offered Every Day"

2011-04-23T20:23:00.005-04:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about the nature of sport -- why it still exists, why it has such an important place in some of our lives, and whether it should.

Not so much another boring history of sport or even a review of it -- the supposed links to warriors or skills that translate to prowess on the hunt or in the field. Not why people started competing. But why they still do.

Why does sport play such a vital role in our lives? Why does it seem more and more important to many at a time when, realistically, physical prowess is less and less important to survival as an individual and collectively to a people? Why do others ignore or barely tolerate or just plain don't "get" athletics and competition? And, finally, when all is said and done, could our time and energy be better spent on other pursuits than another practice or game?

This all started when I attended, to the bemusement of some of my friends, the Mountaineer Athletic Club dinner in Charleston this past week. The MAC raises money for scholarships for athletes in all of WVU's varsity sports. I was impressed by the coaches and athletes who spoke, not just because they were articulate in thanking the donors for the contributions that made their teams and their opportunities to compete possible, but because of the palpable impact that sports, and in particular the opportunity to be a member of a team, had made in their lives. But the skeptical part of me couldn't help but wonder if all that was money could be better spent on research projects, new classrooms, or visiting professorships than on athletics.

Later in the week a gentleman I met at the dinner introduced me, via email, to Jeff Usher. The similarities between Jeff's life and mine are eerily (and, truth be told, a little disappointingly) similar: Jeff is an employment lawyer, soccer coach, and author (well, he's really an author; so far my writing is confined to this blog and some articles, not an entire book). I hope to have the opportunity to talk to Jeff and exchange ideas with him about his approach to coaching and seeing how sport fits into his life.

The dinner and then reading about Jeff made me think more about why sport is still essential to our lives: that it connects us in a common purpose at a time when it is so easy to be a loner among friends, whether it's pursuing personal goals (attending college, getting a promotion, buying a house, starting a family) or just simply living our day-to-day lives conversing with clients or customers we never meet or touching base with friends and colleagues through one less-than-personal method or the other. But, at the same time, it can also be divisive and even dangerous, particularly when it comes to fans (after all, the word is short for "fanatic").

My epiphany came when, by chance, I saw a piece on ESPN about Jim Tracy, a high school girls' cross-country coach in California. Both Tracy and his team (ironically enough, another University High School, this one in San Francisco) have faced and continue to face substantial, and ultimately insurmountable, challenges, but overcame them at least temporarily in some extraordinary ways.

The piece that ran on ESPN's Outside the Lines is below and remarkably well done, as well as being visually stunning.

Tracy and his team exemplify why competition is still so vital to our development individually and collectively and how sport can help us meet -- head on -- the challenges we will all face. The bond between teammates, and between coach and team, is something that cannot be taught in a classroom. It has to be experienced. While winning is obviously important to Tracy and his team (and they are very adept at it) competition, teamwork, and mutual support are lessons that he knows his players will take away from his program that will better allow both him and them to face the obstacles that they will encounter in life. It is truly the means, not the end, that is most important.

"I'm a person who sees no need to fail when success is offered everyday" Tracy says near the beginning of the story. We can take that comment quite literally: that Tracy, with his multiple state championships, tells his girls every year that they have the opportunity to win another and should expect to.

I suspect, however, that Tracy is referring to something much bigger than just a cross-country meet or even a state championship. Each of us has within us the means to accomplish great things and everyday has the opportunity to do exactly that. Sport still has the unique ability to teach us to discover that talent within ourselves, and then reveal the will to push it to its absolute limit. That is a lesson that is learned only by preparing to compete, and then by competing.

Support Your Local Soccer Team

2011-04-18T01:09:00.000-04:00

Because the vast majority of U.S. soccer fans of my generation didn't grow up playing soccer, they chose the sport rather than the sport choosing them.

This is not always a good thing.

Much as the former two-pack-a-dayer becomes the most strident anti-smoking advocate, so too many converted American soccer fans become soccer snobs, insisting on only following the best of European or South American soccer and deriding the level of play in MLS, let alone that of the lower division leagues in the U.S., the United Soccer Leagues (USL) and Professional Development League (PDL).

No, the MLS is not the Premier League. But neither is the Scottish Premier League, or the Ukrainian Premier League, or even Ligue 1 (France's highest professional league).

At the end of every Mountain Stage, Larry Groce tells the audience to go out and listen to some live local music. He's not saying it will be as good as what you just heard on the show, but that's not important. What is important is the idea of local music, of supporting its existence and the people who are probably not even eking out a living performing it, but are doing it just the same and could use a little support while pursuing their dream.

The same goes for local soccer. Whether it's the Columbus Crew or the Portland Timbers or even D.C. United, MLS has to play an important part in the development and vitality of the game in America. U.S. soccer fans need to support MLS, through attendance or even just watching games on t.v., to increase the presence of the game in our national psyche, and especially its attractiveness as a marketing tool to potential advertisers.

Even more desperate for a little support are local soccer clubs. While the level of play isn't always great, the atmosphere and support of your team (even if it's your club only for that evening) is. Perhaps the two most enjoyable times I have ever spent at soccer matches were in York, England watching a pre-season match of what was then Third Division York City F.C. against Middlesborough and an overweight and fast deteriorating Paul Gascoigne, and in Charleston South Carolina watching the USL's Battery play at its wonderful Blackbaud Stadium.

Here in West-by-God Virginia's Charleston we have a PDL team, the Chaos. The PDL is, as its name indicates, a developmental league. Most of the players are local college players, looking for extra playing time in the summer and perhaps that "break" to move to the next level. The play is at the level of a good Division II college program.

No, you're not going to see Lionel Messi on the Schoenbaum Stadium pitch -- probably not the next Lionel Messi either. But there are few ways to spend more a pleasant evening than sitting in the stands, watching some local boys try to make good while the sun slides down the horizon behind the Appalachian Mountains leaving the sky streaked purple and pink.

So next time you find yourself at home on a Saturday or Sunday with nothing particular to do, go find a local game, drop a few bucks, and, as Larry Groce might say, watch some live local soccer wherever you may be.

The Drop

2011-03-30T18:12:00.001-04:00

Every year around this time throughout Europe sportswriters and commentators and fans start talking about The Drop. Relegation and promotion (or, I guess, promotion and relegation if your glass is half full) are features of almost every professional soccer league in the world not in the U.S. or Australia.

Rather ironic, since relegation is the most democratic, or Darwinian, of all sporting concepts. Each year in one or two or three of the clubs that finish in the bottom of the standings of a league will be relegated to the next division down, and the same number of clubs will be promoted, either by virtue of their finish in their league during the regular season or by a playoff, to the next higher division. So while clubs in, say, China will (theoretically) rise or fall each year on their own merits, those in the U.S. are among the few that are always safely ensconced in the highest professional division of the sport.

Because of the way professional sports teams developed in the United States, with a small number of clubs owned usually by one individual or entity, promotion and relegation never took hold here. In Europe, however, with its thousands of soccer teams and stronger local and regional ties, it was a natural development.

In recent years, the relegation battle, at least in England, is much more interesting than the fight for the championship of the Premier League. While the same two or three teams fight it out for the crown every year, several more are sucked into the abyss that is the desperate attempt to avoid the drop.

This year the races to the championship and to relegation are both shaping up to be interesting, thanks to the lack of a dominating club at the top and many middling to miserable ones at the other end of the spectrum. But while one of the usual suspects (either Man United or Arsenal) are likely to win the crown, nine or ten clubs, within six points of each other, are capable of playing badly enough over the last eight or nine matches of the season to warrant relegation.

Unfortunately for me and other Blackburn fans, one of those clubs that could face The Drop is the Rovers. In the top ten and looking good just a few weeks ago, Rovers have managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, or at least a draw, on several occasions recently, including two weeks ago when they conceded a penalty in the last minute to lose 3-2 to Fulham, and last week when they had to come from two goals down at home to register a draw with Blackpool. Speculation has gone from wondering whether the club will be able to challenge for a Europa League spot to whether they will be playing in the Premier League next season.

I have to admit, though, that whether it's the glass-half-empty Rover fan, the masochist, or the republican (yes, little "r" republican) in me, I relish the fight to dodge The Drop. Nothing more energizes a fan base than supporting your club to survive to fight another day. And, I have to admit, I always relish the opportunity to chirp when a "Big Club" (like Newcastle two seasons ago) goes down.

How cool would it be to get to see an American pro team (insert team name here -- mine would be the Cowboys or the Yankees) struggle to maintain top flight status? Can you imagine the glee if Jerry Jones was faced with the prospect of a half-filled billion dollar stadium while his Cowboys play some semi-pro team from Waco?

I'll be there on Saturday morning, biting my nails and hoping the Rovers can pick up three or even one point against Arsenal (yeah, right) that would go a long way to avoiding The Drop. But I'll be pulling just as hard for West Ham and Birmingham (two self-proclaimed "Big Clubs") to lose and sink a little farther toward oblivion. What could be more American?

Mes Que Un Club

2011-03-09T22:01:00.002-05:00

While I may live or die with every Blackburn Rovers' win or loss (and there have been more of the latter than the former lately), I have to admit that Rovers are not my absolute favorite team to watch. That distinction rests with F.C. Barcelona.

Mes Que Un Club ("More than a Club") is the motto of Barcelona. It refers to the fact that the club is much more than simply a soccer club. And while the club also has basketball, handball, hockey, and futsal teams, it refers to much more than that as well.

Barcelona is the team of Catalonia, a region of Spain that has at various times in its history enjoyed cultural and political autonomy or oppression courtesy of its various rulers, most recently Spain. During Franco's rule, the Catalans in general and Barça in particular were singled out for punishment as a culture and institution that were anathema to The Generalissimo's idea of a unified Spain.

Catalans were prohibited from speaking their language and Franco installed a series of handpicked toadies as Barça's president after his militia executed its duly elected president in 1936. Real Madrid's status as Franco's club and Barça's as the club of the Republicans have always been reason enough for me to root for Barcelona and despise Real (and that was before Real bought Cristiano Ronaldo). Even today, the colors of the Catalan flag appear on Barça's badge, shirts, and its captain's armband.

While there are political and cultural reasons why I began supporting Barça, there is a simpler reason I prefer to watch them over any other team, even Rovers: they play the most dazzling soccer on the planet.

Barcelona plays the game the way I think it ought to be played. Pinging passes around the pitch, probing for openings, dominating possession, looking for that little window or slight angle that provides the killer through ball. With plenty of determination and grit, but no cynicism. They have two of the best center midfielders in the world (Xavi and Iniesta) to run the show, one of the best forwards, David (that's "Dah-veed") Villa to score goals, and the best player in the universe, Lionel Messi, to provide the magic.

And here's the kicker, at least for me: all four are under 5'10" tall. Villa, at a listed 5'9", is the "giant" of the bunch. Xavi, Iniesta, and Messi are all purported to be around 5'7", although I'm skeptical of even that measurement.

As a vertically challenged individual, and perhaps more importantly, the father of two vertically challenged (former) high school athletes, I've always been sensitive to coaches or organizations that are quick to dismiss someone just because of their height. That certainly didn't happen to these four -- instead, they comprise the most lethal soccer attack in the world. How cool is that?

I watched Barça dismantle Arsenal in the Champion's League Tuesday and came away with one thought: everyone who thinks soccer is boring needs to watch this match. While Arsenal are generally a team that like to possess the ball (before and after the first leg of this two-match contest they were often referred to as "Barça Lite") they saw virtually none of in the match, reduced to desperate defending and great goal keeping to keep the score close. 95,000 fans cheered every pass, and Messi scored a goal that only Messi could score.

So, for all of you out there who still think soccer is boring, here's a little (pun intended) Messi for you. And I'll be happy to loan you my dvd of the entire match if you'd like. Seriously. Just remember to give it back. They're more than just a club you know.

Sing The Changes

2011-02-22T23:16:00.002-05:00

I've felt more than the usual push-pull over work, this blog and other social media venues, and life in general over the past few weeks -- issues that I've debated whether I should or should not share in any forum other than conversations and emails with family and friends.

Cindy and I watched "The Social Network" the week before last and afterwards, putting aside questions of how much was fact and how much fiction in the film, we discussed the very real issue of whether social networking, particularly Facebook but to some extent blogs as well, has become a substitute for genuine relationships and the honest expression of emotions.

Two predilections are at work in social media that seem to undermine interpersonal relationships and the need to communicate simple truths or profound thoughts: first, the compulsion to post regularly one's status on Facebook; and second, the need to post regularly to a blog, lest it become a blog without readers. Both, as the movie seems to conclude, are the antithesis of genuine communication and are at best a poor substitute for the personal sharing of substantive thoughts, ideas, and emotions.

These critiques caused considerable personal introspection last week. We received a call last Sunday morning informing us that a good friend of Kelsey's had died in a rappelling accident in California. Matt was a wonderful young man with an infectious smile and a twinkle in his eye. He had battled some substantial demons in his life and had won; through determination and pain, no doubt, but I wouldn't have put it past Matt to have charmed the Devil himself as well.

The news of Matt's death hit our entire family hard. Kelsey had stayed in touch with Matt and they had gone hiking and rappelling in West Virginia over the Christmas break. Matt had always been exceedingly kind to Ethan, even when it would have been easier to simply treat him as the annoying little brother. They had seen each other at a 5K last year and Matt told Ethan he hoped they'd run into each other again soon. I had only seen Matt twice in the last five years, but for both Cindy and me, Matt's place in our children's lives as they went through middle and high school made the news tough to take and last week a long and emotional one.

During the week I kept my Facebook posting to a minimum and made no direct references either to Matt or to what we were going through as a family. The last thing I wanted to do was to appear to attempt to take ownership of his life, his passing, or the incredible grief that I knew his family was feeling.

After reading an impossibly positive and life-affirming story about Matt last week and then attending a celebration of his life on Saturday at which the warmth, compassion, courage, and caring of those who spoke about Matt was awe inspiring, I decided to post something here about Matt and honor and celebrate his life.

These thoughts aren't very original and are often repeated at times like this. But they are all things that Matt taught us in his too short thoroughly lived life:

Tell those that you love that you love them, sincerely and incessantly.
Enjoy creation, regardless of by Whom or how or why you believe it was created. Preferably in its wildest, most unspoiled and majestic state.
Embrace change.
Be kind to strangers.
Serve the less fortunate.
Play and don't keep score.
Love Life.

And next time, don't change your status, write a letter to a friend. In longhand. Don't "Like" a post. Give the person a call. Don't admire the pictures in someone's photo album. Go take your own.

There were a lot of wonderful quotes that were shared over the past two weeks regarding Matt and the impact that he made on a lot of people. I'm more pop culture than high culture, though, so rather than e.e. cummings or Bertrand Russell I give you some Paul McCartney, in honor of Matt:

Sing your praises
As you're sleeping
Feel the quiet
In the thunder.
Sing the changes
Calling over.
Everybody has a sense of
Childlike wonder.

What Gets You Excited?

2011-02-02T20:41:00.001-05:00

These are exciting times for two of my favorite soccer teams, at least as far as I'm concerned.

The U.S. Men's soccer team played its first match of the season last week and four of the starters and seven players altogether earned their first caps (a "cap" is the term used for a full national team appearance, for all you soccer-challenged readers). One of them, Zach Loyd, a 23 year-old outside back, was named Man of the Match. Another, Teal Bunbury, a 20 year-old forward, scored the only goal for the Yanks in a 1-1 draw with Chile.

Teal Bunbury.

By my unofficial count, 12 players on the U.S. squad who saw action in the match were 23 years old or younger. Landon Donovan, Tim Howard, Clint Dempsey, and many other National Team veterans were nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile, in Lancashire, Blackburn Rovers have just concluded the January transfer window by adding four players, one of whom is a former team member (forward Roque Santa Cruz, a Paraguayan international), an American defensive midfielder (Jermaine Jones) and two young offensive players (Mauro Formica, 22, from Newell's Old Boys -- is that a great club name or what? and Ruben Rochina, 19, from one of my other favorite clubs, Barcelona).

Ruben Rochina.

Rovers' new owners, Venky's, an Indian poultry company, made noises about trying to sign David Beckham or Ronaldinho to "strengthen" the team but whether they were truly interested in either, or whether they were just trying to realize some media profit for their recent investment, fortunately neither will wear the blue and white halves.

No doubt there are casual fans of both the U.S. team and Rovers who would have welcomed the veterans back to or into their squads. But not me.

It's probably the coach in me, but nothing is more exciting to me than the introduction of young and (hopefully) talented players to a team. The opportunity to mold a group of individuals into a winning, entertaining team is much more interesting than watching some "big name" past his prime earn a last few paychecks.

The same is true with our national team. I'm sure Howard, Donovan, Dempsey et al. will still play a big part in the near future, but it's way more exciting to get a glimpse of what 2014 and beyond may look like than trotting them out for another friendly.

The introduction of young talent to an established team isn't something that happens all that often in the business world. After all, the goal there is to keep valuable employees for a working lifetime, which is normally considerably longer than an athlete's viable economic life.

That doesn't mean, however, that management and the employees themselves can't try to inject a breath of the unusual or extraordinary into the workplace. Team meetings, lunches, social events, or bonus or other incentive plans based on unique criteria are all ways that you can try to give your workplace a jolt of newness, even when the roster doesn't change as dramatically as it did recently for two of my favorite teams.

An Extraordinary Leader

2011-01-12T15:22:00.002-05:00

"War is Hell" of that there can be no doubt. But out of that Hell emerges extraordinary leadership, sometimes from unlikely sources.

Richard "Dick" Winters was a smart, mild-mannered, college-educated man from Pennsylvania who, at the age of 23, three months before the attack on Pearl Harbor, enlisted in the Army. He underwent basic training, then was selected for Officer Candidate School. He joined the paratroop infantry and was assigned to Easy Company of the 101st Airborne Division. The first active combat he saw was on June 6, 1944 -- D-Day. That day the Company Commander was killed when his plane was shot down and Winters became the acting commanding officer.

Winters led his troops during the Normandy Invasion and on his first day of command led an assault that destroyed a battery of German 105 mm howitzers which were firing onto the causeways that served as the principal exits from Utah Beach, an attack that became known as the Brécourt Manor Assault. The attack is still taught at West Point as an example of a textbook assault on a fixed position.

He went on to lead his troops through several of the major campaigns in Europe in 1944 and 1945, including Bastogne. Many, many years later Winters' heroism, as well as that of most of those with whom he served, was depicted in Stephen Ambrose's book Band of Brothers and a television mini-series of the same name.

The real Dick Winters, courtesy of Wikipedia.

Dick Winters passed away last week at the age of 92. Consistent with his self-effacing manner, he had requested that news of his death not be made public until after his memorial service, which was held last Saturday. As I read of his death, and reminded myself again of his extraordinary life, I reflected on the words of his comrades and Major Winters himself on what made him such a great leader.

And it's really pretty simple. Most importantly of all, Winters cared about his men and made sure that they understood both what he expected of them and how proud he was of them. One of the men who served under him summed up Winters and his leadership to the Associated Press this way: "He was a wonderful officer, a wonderful leader. He had what you needed, guts and brains. He took care of his men, that's very important."

Winters himself wrote of his view of leadership this way in an article in American History Magazine: "If you can, find that peace within yourself, that peace and quiet and confidence that you can pass on to others, so that they know that you are honest and you are fair and will help them, no matter what, when the chips are down."

Most of us, as coaches, managers, human resource directors, or lawyers are fortunate to not find ourselves tested on the field of battle. But the rules of engagement with those working under us are largely the same, just not a matter of life and death. We don't need to be Dick Winters to be at least good leaders. Caring for those we work with, and letting them know that, is the hallmark of a good, if not great, leader.

Nor must we be Henry V of England, or William Shakespeare, who wrote the St. Crispin's Day Speech, delivered by the character of Henry V before the Battle of Agincourt, from which Band of Brothers borrowed its title. That speech is a fitting epitaph to Winters and that Greatest Generation who are leaving us day-by-day:

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

The Damned Rovers?

2010-12-20T16:53:00.007-05:00

Cindy and I watched the movie "The Damned United" this weekend and I couldn't help but draw an analogy between the topic of the movie -- Brian Clough's brief, unsuccessful reign as manager of Leeds United in 1974 -- and the current situation that my Blackburn Rovers find themselves in.

To make a long story short, Clough was a young, brash, self-confident manger in England who led lowly Derby (that's pronounced "Darby" for all you American readers) County from the depths of the second division to the championship of Division One in England (what is now called the Premier League) in two short years. Along the way he first admired and then came to loathe the manager of Leeds United, Don Revie, who was an "old school" manger (read: his players played hard, arguably dirty, soccer).

Clough had a habit of buying the rights to players without the approval of the Chairman of Derby and, at least according the to admittedly fictionalized movie account depicted in The Damned United, became more arrogant in his dealings with the Chairman after his initial success. Ultimately, he submitted his resignation to the Board in an attempted power play to leverage his running of the club without the Chairman's involvement. Unfortunately for him, the resignation was accepted.

After a brief stint at a lower division club in Brighton, Clough was offered the manager's position at Leeds. Revie had accepted the job as England's manager and the club targeted Clough as his replacement.
Clough's reign at Leeds lasted exactly 44 days, but during that time he managed to alienate its board, the media, Revie, and most importantly his players. Whether Clough was right or not (and the movie suggests that he was) it was hardly the way to start a relationship when he supposedly told his players (who had won the first division championship in 1973-74, the year before Clough led Derby to the title, and the FA Cup the year before that) that they could "all throw [their] medals in the bin because they were not fairly won."

Brian Clough leading Leeds onto the pitch before the 1974 FA Charity Shield match.

Predictably, the players did not play hard for Clough and he was ousted after less than a month and a half in charge.

The comparison to Blackburn is that this week its new owners sacked their manager, Sam Allardyce. While many Rovers fans were not admirers of Allardyce, they were almost unanimously surprised by his firing since Rovers were mid-table at the time -- a standing about as good as most fans expect given the club's limited resources. There was talk of a protest by fans before the match this past Saturday against West Ham and many have speculated that the firing, the reasons given for it (essentially, lack of ambition and an unattractive style of play), and the expectations that the club's new owners have all demonstrate that they are naive at best and will endanger the club's Premier League life at worst.

I suspect that just as Clough failed to appreciate how his words and attitude would affects his new players at Leeds and their desire to play well for him, so too Allardyce may have overestimated the weight his belief in his own managerial style and abilities would have with Rovers' new owners when compared to how his message was delivered.

Sam Allardyce, cutting a somewhat less dashing figure than Clough.

Allardyce, although admittedly somewhat successful in a previous managerial stint at Bolton and in keeping Rovers afloat, seems (inordinately) impressed with his own managerial ability, which to the casual observer is exclusively comprised of one-note football built around long balls and set pieces. To his credit, his players did seem to genuinely like playing for him. But the players weren't footing the bill.

This is pure, unsupported conjecture on my part, but one can easily imagine Allardyce communicating with his new bosses in a manner that was both self-congratulatory and condescending in informing them of his previous work, what their priorities should be (almost exclusively Premier League survival), and how they should go about achieving them (leaving him alone and letting him manage the club the way he wanted to).

Like Clough, Allardyce entered a new situation in his job and probably thought that the way he had handled such a relationship in the past would be good enough -- particularly since it was his way. You should always consider before speaking to any audience not only the message but how it ought to be conveyed. Particularly if your job is on the line. And if you're a manager, it always is, isn't it?

I Guess It's Unavoidable

2010-12-08T19:30:00.001-05:00

I've been avoiding my impulse to comment on the whole South Charleston-Hurricane-Brooke-SSAC-Judge Webster-Supreme Court brouhaha for a number of reasons. I serve on the SSAC's Soccer Committee (possible conflict). I know South Charleston's defensive coordinator (possible conflict). My wife Cindy is an employee of the Supreme Court of Appeals of West Virginia (you get the idea). I have met and like Judge Webster and the players' counsel, Ben Salango. One of the counsel for Brooke County is my former law school roommate. The conflicts abound.

And yet, I have to weigh in on the issue of whether the SSAC and the Supreme Court got it right, don't I? Isn't this blog supposed to be about coaching and the law? When the two intersect, as they so clearly did here, I would be remiss if I didn't throw in my two cents' worth.

So here it is. The Supreme Court got it right. And South Charleston High has only its coaches and administration to blame if it doesn't like the result.

Like it or not, the SSAC has to have the ability and the right to serve as the ultimate arbiter of decisions regarding eligibility and suspensions. The Supreme Court made it very clear in the O.J. Mayo case just three years ago that it was going to give the SSAC wide latitude in its governance of high school sports. Whether you agree with all, most, or none of its decisions, the SSAC can't run high school sports (and, by extension, its referees can't govern and control contests) if it is subject to being second-guessed by a litigant or a court whenever it makes a decision.

As for the SSAC's swift action in declaring the semi-final between Brooke and South Charleston forfeited, you had to see that coming. I'm sure South Charleston understood that if it played the suspended players and the court's decision ultimately went against them, the SSAC would make them forfeit the game.

I can't for the life of me understand the South Charleston head coach's comments blaming the SSAC and particularly the Brooke County Board of Education for the decision. He must have known that playing the four suspended players could (and likely would) result in the forfeiture of the game. How can you blame Brooke County for making sure that the correct decision was made before the Championship game took place?

South Charleston's coach and administration had three clear choices: (1) discipline the players for their part in the brawl (which was never denied in any of the court proceedings); (2) impose no discipline but hold them out of the Brooke game pending a final resolution of the court case; (3) put the players in the game despite the suspensions and take their chances that the players would prevail before the Supreme Court.

That they chose option three speaks volumes for what they thought was important (winning, at any cost) and what they thought the chances of winning were without the players (zilch).

The Eagles made their nest, no one else. Now they can lie in it all winter long.

Blah, blah, blah

2010-12-05T23:49:00.005-05:00

So for some reason last Saturday night I continually subjected myself to the inane musings of three different commentators on three different college football games. And since misery loves company I feel the need to inflict some of the pain on my readers as well.

Brent Musburger, Matt Millen, and Bob Davie were the guilty parties this weekend, but by no means are they the only sinners when it comes to filling our ears with useless trivia, incorrect information, statements of the obvious, or the repeated utterance of all three. Instead of the old adage "those who can do, do, those that can't, teach" (with which I do not agree, by the way) I firmly believe that these days "those that can do, do, and those that can't talk about it endlessly and for some inexplicable reason are paid to do it."

Each of the three guilty parties, though, is a poster boy for his own particular brand of inanity. Musburger is a know-it-all-who-is-mostly-wrong whose status as a semi-iconic broadcaster is a constant source of befuddlement for me. He always tries to "capture the moment" through some over-the-top description rather than allowing the viewer (or listener in his case) to reach his or her own conclusion, or even enjoy the moment in some way other than that which Brent tells you to. Brent's babbling is so predictable, there's even a hilarious drinking game in his honor.

Davie insists on saying the same thing over and over and over. During the South Florida v. UConn game I must have heard him say on at least five different occasions (and keep in mind I was switching between that game and the Florida State-Virginia Tech and Oklahoma-Nebraska games too) about how "similar" UConn and South Florida were and then supposedly backing it up with meaningless statistics ("see! told you! they both have 163 total yards through three quarters!!!"). We got the point the first time Bob. And the second. And the third . . .

The winner in the race for my opprobrium award, however is Millen. I admit it stems at least in part from his miserable tenure as the General Manager of the Detroit Lions, something from which they still have not recovered two seasons after his much belated departure. Really, how much of an expert can a guy be who drafts a wide receiver two consecutive years when his team's defense is the worst in the League?

Millen's forte in the booth is, not surprisingly, stating the obvious. "They could really use a first down here" on third and long. Or short. "They need a touchdown here" when a team is down by 21 with five minutes to go. Thanks for that, Matt. We never would have figured it out without you.

There are some good broadcasters doing football games (Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth are very good on Sunday Night Football, and as much as it pains me to say it, Kirk Herbstreit is funny and insightful), but with the bowl season upon us, I plan to keep a finger on the mute button or else my television set may not last until January 11.

WWFD?

2010-11-30T00:33:00.002-05:00

What Will FIFA Do?

If you're a fan of international soccer, you know that this week FIFA will announce the nations to which it will grant the expensive privilege of hosting the 2018 and 2022 World Cups. The 2018 bid is guaranteed to go to a European nation or combination of nations among England, Russia, Spain/Portugal, or Holland/Belgium. Meanwhile, the finalists for the 2022 host are the U.S., South Korea, Japan, Australia, and Qatar.

Yes, Qatar.

Handicapping the races is about as easy as counting on there being only one minute of stoppage time when the visitors are leading at Old Trafford. All of what one would think would be the considerations that go into the decision (which country/ies have the best infrastructure, the most people, the most diverse population, the most to gain for soccer as a sport by creating or solidifying a fan base?) take a back seat when FIFA is at the helm.

Instead graft, collusion, and megalomaniacal kingdom making rule the day. Two federations have already been caught trying to take bribes for their votes (by an English newspaper reporter posing as an individual trying to buy support for the USA's bid -- why didn't he pose as a Brit?). FIFA's current head honcho Sepp Blatter has made it clear that he sees himself as soccer's missionary (or Messianic) version of St. Paul or St. Patrick, hellbent (there's an oxymoron for you) on bringing the world's game to the great unwashed in the Asian and Arab worlds.

Blatter also apparently believes that he/FIFA can do what 50 years of diplomacy haven't done and bring peace to the Korean Peninsula if South Korea were to host the World Cup. Never mind that it didn't make a whit of difference when South Korea co-hosted the Cup with Japan just eight years ago (North Korea turned down an offer to host some games) and that North Korea may be one of the few institutions in the world more corruptly and dictatorially run than FIFA. Finally, Qatar and Spain/Portugal have allegedly cut a deal to support each others' bids and all of South America's representatives have already announced that they will support the Iberians.

Any or all of which are reasons why Qatar, home to 1.7 million citizens and 120F temperatures when the matches will be played in the summer of 2022 (but lots and lots of oil money) has a chance.

England was the early favorite for the 2018 bid, but first Russia and then Spain/Portugal have made strong runs. Never mind that the Iberian Peninsula is widely regarded as the EU's next likely bailout target, scuttling along behind Greece and Ireland -- I guess FIFA figures if they have to be bailed out, what's another few billion that the costs of hosting the World Cup will add? Handicapping is impossible, but if recent trends are any indication, the 2018 WC may have a Latin flair.

Which may actually help the American bid, since it's widely suspected that FIFA will not give the hosting honor to two Anglo countries in a row. Still, the U.S. seems to lack support from anyone one particular region other than its own, which holds only three of the twelve votes needed to win the rights to host.

Japan is viewed as having no chance and Australia seems to be too remote and even more disinterested than the U.S. in soccer as a nation to be a contender, although it is trying to get its federation vice president voting rights at the meeting (the Oceania president was one of those caught with his hand in the cookie jar). One would think South Korea has hosted too recently to have a shot, but there's that whole Team America thing Blatter has working that lends its bid an air of legitimacy (another oxymoron in this process). Qatar would be the first Arab nation to host -- and did I mention that it allegedly has some oil money?

The U.S. makes the most sense for a lot of reasons (in particular those in parentheses in the fourth paragraph of this post) but rarely does sense rule the day with FIFA. That's why I won't be surprised if the 2022 World Cup is played in the desert, in air conditioned outdoor stadiums with lots and lots of empty seats.

Arte et Labore

2010-11-10T00:39:00.004-05:00

So, we've just won our third straight State championship by a score of 3-0, finished a season undefeated, and virtually guaranteed a National ranking at the end of the year. And most of the quotes in a newspaper article about the Final game are me moaning about how we didn't play particularly well.

No mention of the fact that we just went through a season in which we played and beat all four AAA state semi-finalists as well as an Ohio state finalist. No nod to our undefeated season, to the fact that the last time we lost a game was in August 2009, to our 46-game unbeaten streak. No reference to the first "three-peat" in West Virginia soccer in a decade.

I've been wondering the last few days if I can defend my comments based on some argument that aesthetics are important to me and I care not only about whether we win but how we look while we're doing it, or we really didn't play that well and I wanted us to go out on a high note. Or maybe that I wanted to impress on our returning players that there was still unfinished business that needs to be taken care of next season.

Or maybe I'm just a grouch.

I don't think I'm usually an over-demanding coach. Not a lot of yelling. I generally try to be positive, before, during, and after games (although admittedly once this year the whole team was mad at me because of my obvious, and repeatedly expressed, disappointment at their play). So what's up with the Steve Spurrier imitation?

I think I just wanted to be our last game together to be perfect and I was disappointed when it wasn't. We had played so well all season and set such high standards for ourselves that I wanted that final to be a celebration of what we were capable of -- attractive, maybe even beautiful, attacking soccer. But I should have recognized it as a celebration of a different sort. Not of art, but of the value of plain old hard work and determination.

The crest of my favorite professional soccer team, Blackburn Rovers, has the Latin phrase "Arte et Labore" -- by skill and hard work -- on it.

I recognize now (too late for the reporters) that our Finals win was a testament not to the "Arte" of our team but rather to the "Labore" -- the hours of practice, of long distance running and sprints and drills and scrimmaging that 20 players and two coaches endured since the first week of August. It was that work that put us in a position to withstand the elements, as well as overcome the emotions that went with the realization that it was our final weekend as this team, to finish the deal. And that's exactly what we did.

We played in difficult conditions both days -- cold and rain and snow and sleet and sloppy goal boxes and bumpy fields. While it's true that the conditions were the same for both teams, let's face it: weather and field conditions can be an equalizer for the less-skilled team. Add in the fact that we played the second half of the Final with three players sitting on the bench with injuries, including arguably the best player (and in my opinion certainly the best forward) in the state who was sidelined with a hamstring pull, one could certainly believe that we overcame some significant obstacles to win and win convincingly at that.

If I had it to do over again, I would make sure to mention that good teams can win in different ways, that we had discovered all of those different ways in the course of the season, and that "winning ugly" can have its own value. But I'd still probably say that I wouldn't have minded seeing a few more passes to the players with the same colored shirts. Hard work only gets you so far when you're an aesthetic person. Or a grouch.

Tom Brady and Me

2010-10-11T22:54:00.002-04:00

Every year at during the first week of practice our team talks about our goals for the upcoming season. I sit down with each of the players individually to discuss what they hope to accomplish, personally and as a team, during the year, and then at the end of that week we set our goals as a team for the season.

I don't like to reveal what our goals are to the outside, mostly because each of the last two season we've set some pretty lofty standards for ourselves that would either make us appear overconfident or provide bulletin-board material for other teams. Sometimes a player will reveal one or more of the goals during an interview (Rachel!) but I don't think it sounds as presumptuous coming from the players as it would from me.

About two years into my "career" as head coach, I set a goal for myself, which I never revealed to anyone until last week -- win 100 games as a head coach. At the time, I figured it would take at least seven years to reach the mark -- an average of 15 wins a season. My first two seasons we had won 14 and 15 games, and so that seemed a reasonable length of time.

Then we won 17 in 2007, and, with the advent of the AA-A playoffs, 19 in 2008. Suddenly it seemed possible that I might reach the goal in six seasons -- except for the fact that I was toughening our schedule every year as fewer of the AA-A teams we had traditionally played wanted any part of us and I sought more skilled competition to improve and test our team.

After we won 20 games last season, which put my career total at 85, I thought my chances of getting to 100 this season were pretty good. Still, we were scheduled to play all four of last season's AAA semi-finalists in West Virginia, plus last year's Ohio small school champ, plus 10 other West Virginia AAA schools.

Once we went 14-0-1 through our first 15 games, I knew that 100 would be reached, I just wasn't sure when. Our first chance came last Monday night against Parkersburg High School, one of the biggest schools in the state as far as student population goes, and also a successful girls' soccer program, which won the state AAA championship in 2006 and was runner-up in 2007. On paper, we looked to be the better team, but as the cliche goes, they don't play the game on paper.

Fortunately, we scored two goals in the first ten minutes and cruised to a 5-0 win. I enjoyed the achievement, and enjoyed even more my players' genuine excitement in their helping me reach that milestone. For good measure, a Parkersburg television station was there to capture our first two goals, both on lovely passes (one with feet, one with a head) that set them up.

When I got home late that evening, I turned on Monday Night Football only to be told that I was sharing my accomplishment with Tom Brady, who won his 100th game as a starting quarterback that same night against the Dolphins. While admittedly there were a few more cameras around to record Brady's feat than there were mine, given my devotion to Michigan football (which was sorely tested last Saturday I might add) I thought maybe there was a little kismet at work that evening.

Just as Brady owes much of his achievement to the dozens if not hundreds of teammates he's had over his career that helped him reach his goal, so too I was and am mindful of the players, parents, assistant coaches, school administration, and coaching mentors who helped me reach mine. While athletes often say (whether just lip service or not) that they owe their accomplishments to their teammates, there is no doubt that a coach only wins when he is fortunate enough to have players at his or her disposal who are willing to "buy in" to whatever it is you're trying to sell.

And on that count, I have been greatly blessed. It is a milestone that I share with and owe to every one of the young women I have been fortunate enough to coach, something which I will never forget.

We are, after all, a Catholic school

2010-10-02T17:45:00.002-04:00

And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew nigh to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine.

And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth.

So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword in the hand of David.

David 1 Goliath Nil.

1 Samuel 17

Something Special

2010-09-28T20:41:00.003-04:00

All season, two teams have been on a collision course. Assuming they take care of business this week, Saturday morning's match in Morgantown will be the most anticipated (and may be the most watched, inside the state and out) girls' high school soccer game of this and perhaps any season in West Virginia.

University High School is the defending Class AAA Champion in the State. The Hawks return most of their starters from a team that went through the 2009 season without a loss. Their coach is undoubtedly the most accomplished high school soccer coach currently leading a team in West Virginia, having won two boys' state championships at Morgantown High before moving across both town and the gender line to coach at University. The school has 1250 students and the city has a strong youth and travel soccer pool from which to draw players.

Charleston Catholic High School is the defending Class AA-A Champion. The Irish return nine starters from a team that lost one game in 2009 and won its second straight state championship. Their coach is a part-timer who never played the game and started coaching at the high school level largely by chance. The school has 250 students and benefits from having seven seniors who comprise the best single class of soccer players in the history of the institution.

Both teams are undefeated so far this season, with the only blemish on either side being Catholic's tie against the Morgantown girls' team. They are ranked first and second in the state according to the state's mathematical rankings, The National Soccer Coaches Association of America (a name which calls to mind the American Dodgeball Association of America) poll, and ESPN's RISE poll.

Obviously, the ultimate goal in this or any season is to win a state championship. But this game is a little different -- in some ways it's for the championship of the whole state, not just a class. And it's an opportunity for at least one school to gain recognition outside of the state, something that's hard to come by, for girls' high school soccer particularly.

This is what you play for.

A Delicate Balance

2010-09-18T20:44:00.001-04:00

I didn't play team sports in high school. I went to a big public school and, frankly, was to small to be able to play football or baseball (and too old to play soccer, at least in Michigan).

Swimming and golf, though were two sports that weren't particularly discriminatory with regard to size (although admittedly you won't find many 5' 9 1/2" Olympic swimmers). I didn't learn much from my high school golf coach that I've been able to translate to my soccer team (unless it's simply to not be a confrontational, crotchety old SOB like he was), but swimming is a different story.

There were some conventional wisdoms in swimming 30 years ago that, while regarded as gospel at the time, haven't proven to be much more than voodoo or old wives' tales. We used to stretch a lot before meets (as opposed to currently, where static stretching is viewed as inhibiting muscle performance when done immediately prior to an event). We used to "carbo load" the night before big meets (not immediately before, like Michael Scott) which is of questionable value these days. And before and during meets we would eat plain sugar or jello mix because we thought the glucose would give us additional energy.

The one training tool that we practiced in swimming that I believe still has a great deal of validity, and is equally applicable to soccer, is "peaking." The idea was that there were only so many times during the swim season when an athlete could be at his or her best. So, while no one tanked any meets, it was understood that you wouldn't prepare for all meets in the same way (training hard, then tapering your training a few days before). Only the really important meets merited that type of training. Your performance in the run-of-the-mill meet or race may not have been optimal as a result, but that was okay because you had the big picture -- the county or state meet -- in mind.

As an athlete, peaking and tapering made a lot of sense -- maybe just because it meant I didn't have to work as hard at practice during the days leading up to a big meet. As a coach, however, I find I have to constantly remind myself that I can't expect great things out of my team every game.

The high school soccer season lasts for 20 regular season matches in West Virginia. Add to that the possibility of up to five post-season games (if you make it all the way to the State Finals), and you have a situation where, realistically, your players cannot be as physically and emotionally sharp as you'd like them to be for every single contest.

It's a difficult concession for me to make, that we can't or even shouldn't be expected to play our best every single match. I'm competitive by nature and at any game want our team and its players to perform as well as possible. I find I'm more disappointed with a "bad win" than a "good loss" almost all the time.

But, as the cliche goes, a bad win really is better than a good loss. After all, the ultimate goal for a game is to win, and for the season is to win a championship, not to look good losing or to win a relatively unimportant game 5-0 instead of 3-0.

Although I'm in my ninth season as a high school coach, I'm still learning better ways of doing things. There's a lot of introspection in coaching, as in legal work -- especially litigation. I find myself often examining the way I approach issues for an audience, whether it's my players, the press, a judge, or a jury. This year, I'm consciously making an effort to be satisfied with an occasional adequate performance, with the understanding that it would be too demanding to expect the team to play at a peak for 25 straight games.

There's still room for improvement in our team, just as there is in me as a coach. As a wise man once said, "when you stop getting better, you stop being good."

The Other Football

2010-09-10T12:56:00.002-04:00

As I alluded to in a recent post, the rest of the world views American collegiate sport as an oddity. The training grounds for professional athletes anywhere but the U.S. are, oddly enough, professional teams.

Overseas, promising soccer and basketball players are nurtured by professional clubs, beginning at a young age. The advantage: athletes who are interested in pursuing sport as a vocation don't have to pretend that they are students. The disadvantage: athletes who are interested in, but not good enough to, be professional athletes end up without any marketable skills.

Of course, there are other downsides to college athletics besides the fact that they are not supposed to be equipped to do what they do -- train amateur athletes to be professionals. Especially in football, agents, the bowl system, and the exploitation of unpaid athletes for the generation of millions of dollars of revenue for some "institutions of higher learning" understandably makes many an educator or administrator queasy.

But all of those doubts disappear, for me anyway, come Saturday afternoons in the fall (well, it should be Saturday afternoons, and only Saturday afternoons, as far as I'm concerned). There is something very unique and special about college football that, for me, no other sport can match.

Maybe it's the fact that there are only 12 (or 13, or 14 nowadays) games in a season. Part of it is the pageantry. Part is the history of whatever team(s) you root for and a link, somewhere, to a glorious past. And part is that college football has the unique ability in the U.S. to join uncommon people in a common bond, at least for a few hours. In much of the rest of the world, soccer is the sport that does this. But in the U.S., I believe that it's college football, more so even than the NFL.

This coming weekend is one of the two biggest of the college football season for me. And, no, not because it's WVU v. Marshall on Friday night. Remember, when it comes to being a fan, I never take the easy route. For while I generally root for both WVU and Marshall, I am first and foremost a fan of my alma mater, Wake Forest (which has the tradition of being one of the worst major college football programs), and of the University of Michigan. And Saturday Michigan plays Notre Dame.

I grew up going to The Big House with my Dad and brother, watching Michigan play the best teams in the nation. It was just us and 110,000 of our closest friends. I saw a surprising number of great offensive players over the years -- surprising because Michigan had the reputation of being a "three yards and a cloud of dust" team. Tom Brady, Brian Griese, Chad Henne, and Elvis Grbac are all quarterbacks I saw play in person, and Anthony Carter, Charles Woodson, and Desmond Howard were among the wide receivers.

Just as important as the team or the players, though, was the atmosphere: bright orange and yellow and red maples on the drive to the stadium on a crisp fall morning; parking on the U of M golf course (!) or in some five-times-a-year entrepreneur's yard; walking to the stadium with and past thousands of fans decked out in Maize and Blue; the smell of the food simmering on their tailgate grills.

Then, there was the stadium itself. There is nowhere like Michigan Stadium on a Saturday afternoon. From the street it looks singularly unimpressive -- perhaps twenty rows of stands. But when you walk in, you realize that it was sunk into the ground and the sheer enormity of the place is overwhelming.

U of M Stadium from the air -- golf course/parking lot to your right.

And that's before the band takes the field. I have never played an instrument and am about as far from a "band geek" as you can get. But every time I hear the cadence of the Michigan band entering the field, the hair on the back of my neck still stands on end. And when they play the best fight song in the land, well, how can you not get a little amped after that?

Being a Michigan fan was never a big deal in West Virginia until the U of M stole WVU's basketball and football coaches in successive years. The hiring of John Beilein as basketball coach was not a big deal as he was an outsider who had lead the Mountaineers well, but for whom the state had no real allegiance or love. When Michigan hired Rich Rodriguez, however, it was a different matter entirely. Rodriguez was West Virginia born, WVU educated, and led a dynamic, successful program after the retirement of Don Nehlen. His departure was seen by WVU fans as an affront to the school and the state, and made an enemy of both the coach and the institution that hired him to all things Blue and Gold (as opposed to Maize and Blue).

After Rodriguez's first two unsuccessful years in Ann Arbor, I've had to put up with a lot of ribbing from my WVU friends. All along, though, I've said the third year of the Rodriguez era in Michigan, and the Bill Stewart era in Morgantown, will tell the tale. Rodriguez runs a unique offense that requires a certain kind of player, certainly not those that Lloyd Carr recruited before him; Stewart's coaching and recruiting abilities are at best unproven.

Last Saturday was the start of the third season, and it began very well for Michigan. Much better, I thought, than WVU's performance against its I-AA opponent. The games this weekend, however, will give a little better idea of how good Michigan might be, and how ordinary WVU could be. And while usually I remain neutral regarding WVU v. Marshall games, I have to admit that a little bit of me wouldn't be disappointed to see The Thundering Herd give me the first chance to say I told you so.

High Expectations

2010-08-27T00:43:00.001-04:00

I've been struggling for the past nine months with how to deal with the expectations for our team for this season.

I prefer being the underdog. But it would be close to impossible to cast our team in that light this season and maintain any degree of credibility. It's always easier to lead when you can create an "us against them" mentality with your team. But this season, realistically, it's "them against us."

Our team has won two straight class AA-A state championships. We have nine starters returning, seven of whom are seniors, and seven of whom made one all-state team or the other. We've begun to receive notice outside of the state -- we will play the team that won the Ohio state "small school" championship game (they were later stripped of the title, under questionable circumstances in my opinion) in a game on Labor Day and our upcoming game against University High (last year's West Virginia AAA state champion) has already begun generating some buzz.

I think many coaches tend to ignore the psychological preparation for themselves and their team for a season. To me, that is the most important aspect of pre-season work for an accomplished and skilled team like ours. If you have a bunch of new or young players, then you need to get a ball on their feet as often as possible. But for our team, figuring out how to deal with the expectations and pressures of seeking a three-peat(c) was paramount.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be in the position of having to deal with this kind of "problem." But it's easy for people to overlook the time spent off the field that goes into deciding how you will work your way through it, and that how you will handle and train a skilled team is just as taxing, just different, than doing the same for a younger or less talented team.

In the end, my choice was to simply admit that our prospects for the season should be promising and let the team know that it was up to them to decide whether we would achieve them or not. Fortunately, our players are very competitive and have even higher goals than most people would think. Planning how you will communicate with your team can be more important than planning what you will (and won't) tell people outside the team about what you're doing and why.

Although it's still early, so far we've embraced the expectations that we and others have placed on us. We spent a great weekend in Morgantown scrimmaging against some of the best teams in the state, I witnessed the best, most intense scrimmage I've ever seen when we battled University High on a lovely August evening, and we have already avenged our only loss from last season.

The view from University High's field the evening of our scrimmage.

There will no doubt be some bumps along the way (in fact, there were some in a scrimmage the morning after the University scrimmage), but the moments we've already experienced this season lead me to believe that sometimes expecting the most from your team, and telling them that, is the best option. Maybe even when it's not the only one.

Whose Future?

2010-08-18T08:28:00.005-04:00

I recently finished reading an excellent story in The New York Times Magazine that ran right before the World Cup and it started me thinking about my post last month about my summer camp experiences and how "growing up" has changed in the past generation.

The article "How a Soccer Star Is Made" by Michael Sokolove is about the youth academy of the famous Dutch club Ajax. Ajax is historically the most successful club in the Dutch Eredivisie (Premier League) and was in the past a force in European competitions, particularly in the 1970's when it won the UEFA Champions League three straight years. As free agency and well-heeled investors crept into the game in the 1980's and '90's, Ajax found difficulty competing with the best in Europe, continuing to rely on home-grown talent for the most part.

Ajax now seems content to do well in its domestic league and provide a pipeline for talented Dutch players to the richest clubs and owners in England, Italy, Spain, and Germany. It does so at a considerable financial benefit. Player transactions in professional soccer almost never occur via a "trade" as is the norm in American football, baseball, and basketball. Rather, players switch clubs almost exclusively via a "transfer"in which one club pays another for the rights to a player. Instead of chasing trophies Ajax is now, as Sokolove puts it, a "talent factory."

And a successful factory it is. Ajax signed and developed Wesley Sneijder, the midfield general for The Netherlands in the recent World Cup. After five season with the club he was sold to Real Madrid for a reported 27 million Euros. At least two other starters on Holland's team started out as Ajax youth players and were sold on to "bigger" clubs. One club official estimated in the article that Ajax earned 80 million Euros from five players currently playing for other clubs in Europe.

The industrial analogy seems particularly apt after reading about the academy and how it works. Every year the players go through rigorous testing and analysis, starting at age 7. Some players are "sent away" because of a lack of skill, motivation, or discipline. And while concessions are made for family and studies, particularly at younger ages, there is no doubt what the sole focus of De Toekomst "(The Future") is -- developing elite soccer players. When Sokolove asked one 15-year-old member of the academy if he was learning lessons -- focus, perseverance, poise under pressure -- that he could apply regardless of what vocation he undertakes in life the answer was simple: "No, we're training for football, not for anything else."

The article makes the point, as many have done in the past, that if America ever hopes to be a truly elite soccer nation, it needs to train players, if not quite as obsessively as Ajax, at least a lot more like it than the current system of youth teams (which focus on winning rather than developing elite talent) and college soccer (which is entirely unique to the States as far as the quality of play and its use as a training grounds for the pros).

This is a legitimate point, and one that needs to be a continual part of the debate regarding the youth soccer system in the United States. As a parent, though, I couldn't help but reflect on the comparison between the Ajax system and my recent bemoaning of sending our son and daughter to soccer camps during summers past rather than to regular "summer camps" (although my daughter did point out that they went to church camp for a few summers and got to shoot archery there).

While I may regret that our kids missed out on some experiences growing up, one of my regrets is not that they weren't in the youth system of a soccer club. Admittedly, they probably weren't talented enough to be considered in the first place. But as successful as Ajax program is, for every player that makes it to the first team there are scores that return home at some point and are forced to try to use the lessons learned solely for football and apply them to some other vocation.

I understand chasing the dream of the ridiculous wealth that a contract with an elite club in Europe can bring. But the odds certainly aren't with you, and you have to wonder how many kids have grown up thinking only about being a professional soccer player when they should have been concentrating instead on a professional or vocational career because they just lacked that one step.

American soccer would likely benefit if we put players into youth systems at a younger age. Certainly, we have started to figure out how to offer the opportunity to players (starting perhaps at 15 or 16) to train primarily for a career in soccer (some if not all MLS clubs have youth programs now and "Generation adidas" is supposed to provide income and opportunity to players who either don't want to attend college or want to leave early) and need to continue along that path.

As a parent though I would be very reluctant to want my child to be pulled away from a college education for the chance of a professional career unless I was dead certain that he or she was going to have a successful pro career. It seems an awfully big risk to take.

Maybe sending our kids to soccer camp when they were growing up wasn't such a bad decision after all . . .

An Inexplicable Obsession

2010-08-02T23:44:00.013-04:00

I am a Blackburn Rovers fan.

Whenever I meet someone from England who is not a Blackburn fan, I usually get the same reaction when I tell them that I support the Rovers: "Blackburn? Why?"

The Rovers are not a fashionable club to follow, at least not these days. Admittedly, I started rooting for the Blue and White in their second heyday, following their first (and, truth be told, likely only) Premier League championship in 1995. But I wasn't a bandwagon jumper, actually not throwing my support behind the club until it was on the decline, in 1997. Only two years later they were relegated and I stuck with them, proof of my stubbornness or stupidity.

It was not a decision that was made lightly. I began following the Premier League around 1996, a time coinciding with my beginning to coach my son's rec soccer team and with ESPN2's broadcasts of some Premier League games. I decided to follow one team, and set a few rules in choosing which one it would be. I wanted to root for a team that had enjoyed some success but was not one of the mega-teams. And I wanted to feel a connection with not just the team but its supporters.

Options for viewing soccer, and following foreign leagues, were much more antiquated 15 years ago than they are now, so the tools at my disposal to help figure out what team I would call my own were limited. I relied on the occasional match on ESPN2 and message boards and email lists on the Internet to help make my choice. For a time, I joined email lists of fans of Newcastle, Liverpool, and Blackburn.

All three were moderately successful in the '90's and had some promise of future success. Liverpool had enjoyed a long spell as the best club in England in the '70's and '80's and Newcastle had a strong fan base and fanatical following. Rovers had been the best team in England in the late 1800's and had enjoyed a revival under steel magnate and local boy made good Jack Walker, who had purchased the club in the early '90's and quickly steered it (or bought its way, depending on how you looked at it) from the Second Division to the Premier League and then champions in a remarkably short period of time.

I quickly struck Newcastle off of the list, finding their fans to be boorish and unintelligent. The Liverpool supporters were smarter but had an air of entitlement that I found off-putting. The Rovers fans, however, were smart, funny, and had a certain "us against the world" attitude that fit with my predisposition to root for the underdog (a trait I believe I share with many West Virginians).

My support for Rovers was cemented by two other factors: their fantastic blue and white halves, a kit that I think is the best looking soccer shirt in the world, and a 7-2 thrashing of Sheffield Wednesday on a Monday afternoon that still may be the most dazzling soccer game I've ever watched.

That was 13 years ago and it is still the most goals I've ever seen the Rovers score in a match. There have been some very low points along the way, including relegation in 1999 and two seasons in what was then called the First Division. As hard as it was to follow a club in the Premier League then, it was nothing compared to the wasteland that was news, let alone match highlights or live games, regarding First Division teams.

Rovers tried a number of miserably unsuitable managers while stumbling into and then through the wilderness before a savior arrived: Graham Souness. Although his departure from the club, inevitable for almost any professional team, was unpleasant, there is no doubt in my mind that Souness was the right man at the right time to lead Blackburn back to the Premier League, which he did in a season and a half.

During the first year back, Rovers reached their high point since I've followed them, winning the 2002 League Cup final 2-1 over Tottenham Hotspur at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. I still have the video tape (yes, video tape) of that win, and pull it out and watch every so often.

Since then, Rovers have mostly struggled in the Premier League, although they did enjoy a spell in the top half of the league for a time under manager Mark Hughes, one of the heroes of the League Cup win. Hughes, however, bolted for the filthy lucre offered by Manchester City (he's since been fired there and was recently hired by Fulham, which employs Americans Clint Dempsey and Eddie Johnson) and were very nearly demoted again after a disastrous start to the next season under Paul Ince.

The past two years have been marked by mediocrity and dull play, due in part to the current manager, Sam Allardyce, a coach whose tactics and demeanor would be difficult for the most ardent supporter to warm to, and in part to the financial cost of "facing the drop" to the First Division (now called the "Championship") which makes survival in the Premiership the main goal for all but a handful of clubs.

Things are better from the standpoint of getting to watch Rovers live on FSC and ESPN2 these days when they play one of the "big clubs". But I can't say that I often enjoy the experience. That's part of being a true fan, particularly a fan of a perpetual underdog. And, unlike in baseball (I'm a lifelong Tigers and Cubs fan) or football (ahem, Lions?) at least professional soccer offers several different avenues, through cup competitions, for a team to shine even when the season isn't going all that well (Portsmouth were in the FA Cup final last year while slogging through a miserable league campaign that saw them practically relegated by Christmas).

The preseason hasn't gone well at all for Rovers this year, and I fear that survival may be an accomplishment rather than just a goal in 2010-11. But I'll be watching. Through thick and (mostly) thin, I'm a Rovers fan.

We Haven't Had That Spirit Here Since 1969

2010-07-23T09:38:00.019-04:00

Or thereabouts.

I got to take a trip back in time, or relive personal history, or just feel pretty damn old this week. Work took me to Wausau, Wisconsin for depositions. And, yes, I got several "oh lucky you" comments when I told folks where I was going. But it really was lucky for me.

Growing up in Michigan, my parents had the foresight to send my brother and me to Camp Mikquano in the town of Nelsonville (no kidding) Wisconsin. Nelsonville is about 15 miles east of Stevens Point, which in turn is about 35 miles south of . . . Wausau.

I didn't make it all the way back to Nelsonville, but did travel down to Stevens Point, where we spent some time as campers, and even more as counselors after the kids had gone to sleep.

The memories started even before getting to Stevens Point though. The initial jolt of nostalgia: Central Wisconsin Airport. After carting us around Lake Michigan from Southern Michigan to Nelsonville for two years, our Mom and Dad decided that Jeff and I could handle a plane trip on our own.

So for the next four years we boarded a plane at Reynolds Municipal Airport in Jackson, Michigan, and ended up eventually at CWA in the town of Mosinee, about halfway between Wausau and Stevens Point.

I flew into CWA this week and, no knock against the fine folks in Mosinee, it looks exactly the same as it did in the 1970's. This is the picture I took on my arrival Tuesday, not one from 1973.

Since I'd been so productive preparing for my depositions on the planes in, I decided to indulge my curiosity and take the 20 mile trip down to Stevens Point.

The last time I had been in the town was 1979, I think, after Jeff and I had ended our careers as counselors and went back to catch up with folks still at the camp and to show our hometown friends Michael and Brian the place they'd heard so much about. The details of the trip are best left to more discrete conversations, but suffice to say we jammed six weeks worth of central Wisconsin entertainment into one weekend. The highlight was a trip into Stevens Point, where we partook of the favorite local beer, Point.

Point Brewery was and is an anachronism -- small time, small town brewery that survived the onslaught of megabreweries like Miller, Old Style (still quite popular in Wisconsin, evidently), and of course Bud. It seems to have done a good job of repositioning itself as a craft brewer, offering up products like its "Whole Hog" high alcohol, six hop IPA which is very good. And, much like the airport, the brewery still looks like it did in the mid-70's, albeit with a fresh coat of paint.

After visiting the brewery again this week, followed by a quick trip to downtown Stevens Point, I hauled my rental car up to Wausau where I spent the next three days stuck in a conference room taking a deposition or stuck in my hotel room preparing for the next one. While Wausau is a pleasant town, the time for misty-eyed reminiscences was over.

So where is all of this headed, you may ask? I have no idea.

Nothing here about soccer, that's for sure. Not much about management, leadership, or decision-making either. But maybe a little something about the choices we make in an ever-changing world.

One of my biggest regrets as a parent is that our children never experienced the joy of attending a traditional summer camp. They've only been on a horse once in their lives, as far as I know. They've never shot a bow and arrow, and neither is a particularly good swimmer. They've never hunted for crayfish under rocks in a stream, pulled a bullhead or perch or sunfish off of a line, or spent a rainy day in a hot cabin trying to find some way to amuse themselves, having to rely on a board game, a card game, or a sing-along with a badly tuned piano.

They did not lack for educational or recreational opportunities, but everything is so regimented these days. It's a shame we can't give a little more space, let children and young adults figure out what to do and who they want to be by perhaps giving them a little more time to make the decision and a few more options to choose from. I think of the basketball and soccer camps that our son went to, and the French camp that our daughter is a staff member at now, and I think that's great, but can those kids tie a slip knot, bait a hook, or barrel race a horse? I bet not many have ever had the chance and I think a lot of them would have liked to have tried.

I don't think camp made me who I am, as much as it allowed me to believe that I could be whoever I wanted to be. Having the ability to make the choice, to find out what I liked and what I didn't, what I was good at and what I wasn't (I rarely darkened the door of the Arts and Crafts cabin), instead of running the next drill or reciting the next line was an awesome, powerful tool for an 11 year-old. And the chance as a counselor to help the next group of kids figure out what they liked and didn't was inspiring as well.

I've lost track of the kids that I went to camp with and the young men that I served as counselor with. But the fun we had together and the things we learned to do at Camp Mikquano will never be forgotten. It helped make me who I still want to be.

The Camp Mikquano counselors' softball team, 1977 (I think). I am kneeling on the left, my brother Jeff is on the right. Our friend Jeff Schmatz, the son of the camp owners (two of the most wonderful people that I have had the pleasure of being nurtured and mentored by in my life, Bob and Ruth Schmatz) is in the orange baseball hat over my shoulder. Note that at least four of us are wearing the team's official ball cap, a Point Beer hat.

Thanks to my brother Jeff and our friend Michael, who together indirectly suggested the title of this post in emails we shared about my trip.

"Now Let's Go Out There and Play Like We Want to Finish Third!"

2010-07-12T09:41:00.010-04:00

It's so predictable it's a cliche: the third place games in World Cup tournaments are exciting, open matches; the title games are conservative, chippy, and at times downright dirty.

The supposed justification for the interesting "consolation" matches is that there's nothing to play for. Both teams are disappointed to to have lost in the semi-finals, don't really care all that much whether they finish third or fourth, and as a result play open, attacking soccer.

The Final, on the other hand, is usually a tight, low scoring, hard-tackling affair as teams draw back and defend rather than risk making the one mistake that can cost them the World title.

That's exactly how it played out in the 2010 World Cup. Germany and Uruguay engaged in an entertaining third-place match that Germany won 3-2, scoring the winning goal with just eight minutes remaining. The next day in the Final, Spain slogged to a 1-0 win over ill-tempered Holland.

The lack of scoring in the Final was disappointing, but not surprising. Spain dominated possession in all of its matches, even the opening loss to Switzerland. But it scored only eight goals total in its seven matches and won all of its knock-out matches by the same 1-0 margin.

Instead of attempting to match Spain's possession, the Netherlands seemed content to try to knock Xavi, Iniesta, et al. out of their socks and hope for a counter attack goal or a penalty shootout. While the Dutch had not exactly reflected the great "Total Football" teams of the 1970's up to the Finals (surprisingly, the usually dour Germans were likely heirs to the throne of "most exciting team not to win" this World Cup), they had not previously displayed the cynical slash-and-burn style with which they approached the Final.

While the reputation of the Dutch teams of the '70's as being obsessed with style over substance may have contributed to the decision to play negatively in the 2010 Final, one has to wonder if they would have shed the title of "best country never to have won a World Cup" before Spain if they had played truer to their abilities and reputation as an innovative, attacking soccer nation.

Conventional wisdom has its price. It's easier, or at least safer, if you're the coach or manager or boss, to take the approach that's tried and true. It certainly leaves you a cushion for any criticism you may receive. But sometimes true greatness comes when we throw caution to the wind. Occasionally playing like you're playing for third is the right, or at least the brave, thing to do.

And as for third place not being important? Ask Diego Forlan what he thinks.

BOOM!

2010-07-06T15:05:00.002-04:00

Pittsburgh or Cape Town?

So much for the magic of Maradona. At least the Argentineans were fairly gracious in defeat.

Crazy Like a Fox

2010-07-01T22:12:00.011-04:00

I admit it. I've been waiting for Diego Armando Maradona, and, by extension, Argentina to implode at some point in this World Cup. It seemed inevitable, didn't it? It still might happen, but even if it does Maradona has proven many of us wrong. And in his success may be some lessons from which all of us can learn.

For the uninitiated, Maradona (one of those one-name players that are indigenous to soccer) is one of the greatest players of all-time, mentioned in the same breath with Pele, Cruyff, Beckenbauer, and very few others. He almost single-handedly (pun intended) led Argentina to the 1986 World Cup, beating West Germany 3-2 in the Final. His most memorable performance of that tournament was in the quarterfinals, where Argentina avenged the indignities inflicted on it in the Falklands and defeated England 2-1. Maradona scored both goals in that match which are two of the most memorable goals in history -- the first the infamous Hand of God goal, and the second which was (sixteen years later) recognized as the "Goal of the Century".

Off the field, however, Maradona was a mess. Addictions to cocaine and alcohol stunned his abilities and bloated his body. After his playing career ended he became nearly unrecognizable because he gained so much weight. He went to Cuba twice for drug and alcohol rehab, and nearly died in 2004 after he suffered a heart attack due to a cocaine overdose. His family at one point tried to have him declared legally incompetent. Two brief forays into coaching at the club level in the mid-90's resulted in a dismal combined record of three wins, eight ties, and twelve losses.

Despite his personal life, Maradona remained an icon in Argentina. When Argentina struggled in the qualifying tournament for the 2010 World Cup Maradona offered himself as a candidate to replace the resigned coach and was astonishingly chosen. He managed to eke Argentina into the Finals and chose to celebrate the occasion by berating the press.

Argentina did not enter this tournament as a favorite, partly because of its mediocre qualifying campaign, and partly because Maradona was regarded as a tactically naive coach and a manager who was more concerned with his own success than that of his players.

Maradona and his team, however, have proven the pundits wrong. Not only are they one of two teams to win every game up to this point (Germany being the other), but they've done it with style and flair, scoring the most goals of any national in the Finals. Maradona struts the sidelines during every match, pleading, cajoling, complaining, and, whenever he can, showing off his still-considerable ball skills.

And therein lies Maradona's genius. It is very clear that the man cares. He passionately wants to win and he passionately supports his players. His players want to play for him. And, as the French proved already in this tournament, that is a very important ingredient to a winning team.

Great players do not often make great coaches. They become frustrated when their players can't play as well, work as hard, or be as imaginative as they were. This may explain why Maradona was a failure at the club level. At the international level, however, he's surrounded by players that, while perhaps not as great as he once was, are very, very good.

He's also managed to deflect the glare of the media spotlight from his players (including the Best Player in the World, Lionel Messi) and their performances by making himself the story of his team, and probably the whole tournament. Only Maradona could trash-talk Pele and the head of UEFA (Michel Platini, who is also occasionally mentioned in the same company as an all-time great player) and receive not vitriol but chuckles in return.

Very few of us (and, I dare say, no one who would be inclined to read this blog) have the cache that Maradona has that would allow us to be hand picked, without any previous success, for the high profile position that received. But he has made the most of his opportunity and has in the process rewritten the latest chapter in his life. Most importantly, he has inspired his team to perform at great heights and, either because of or in spite of his tactical decisions, it has managed to be both successful and entertaining while doing so.

If you believe in yourself, believe in your team, and let the world know that you do, marvelous things can happen. And you may not even need the Hand of God to help.

The Importance of Being Honest

2010-06-27T16:07:00.004-04:00

This is the tale of two confessions, the one that I'm about to make and the one that Bob Bradley didn't.

Mine is that I was wrong in my last post. One of the good things about soccer is not that there's no instant replay. Officials have managed to repeatedly demonstrate at this World Cup that they make mistakes. Horrible, blatant, game-changing mistakes.

While it would disrupt the rhythm of a match to stop play for a video review for every close call, there isn't any reason why the fourth official couldn't have reviewed either the goal that should have been but wasn't (Frank Lampard's strike against Germany) or the one that was but shouldn't have been (Carlos Tevez's goal from a clear offside position against Mexico).

On Tevez's goal there were no logistics to work through. Play was stopped anyway because a supposed goal had been scored. And clearly the goal would have been disallowed if it had been reviewed (I can maybe understand missing the call if one defender had been goal-side of him but none? Seriously?).

A review of Lampard's non-goal, which had to land at least a yard into the goal but was missed by the Assistant Referee, would have been a little trickier but could still be easily accomplished. Since his shot was inexplicably not ruled a goal, play continued so there was no stoppage in play as occurred after Tevez's goal.

It would be simple enough, however, to equip the fourth official (who stands at the touchline and acts as nothing more than a traffic cop for players entering and leaving the field 99% of the time) with video replay technology to allow him to review controversial calls or no calls while play continues. If he decides it should have been a goal, play stops, time is added for the duration of the review, and play restarts with a kickoff.

I would only allow replay in those two instances (that I can think of at the moment) -- offside rulings that lead directly to goals and determinations of whether or not a ball completely crossed the line and therefore was a goal. And I wouldn't allow any NFL-style challenges. Every close play in those two categories would be reviewed while play continues, or before play is restarted.

With the technology available and many other sports using it to get the call right (Wimbledon still makes players dress all in white but has electronic line calls!) there's no reason FIFA shouldn't use it in connection with the biggest, most lucrative sporting event on the planet.

Okay, I fessed up. Bob Bradley, on the other hand . . .

I don't like second-guessing coaches. I know as a coach I don't like it, and understand that there are many considerations that no one else, not even an assistant, is privy to when decisions are ultimately made regarding formations, personnel, etc.

That said, I was very surprised when it was announced that Ricardo Clark would start the match against Ghana instead of Maurice Edu, who had been very solid against Algeria. I figured Bradley knew something we all didn't, but was less sure when Clark gave away the ball early in the game to allow Ghana to score yet another early goal against the U.S. in this World Cup.

When Bradley substituted Edu for Clark in the first half (after Clark had been awarded -- that's an odd term, isn't it? -- a yellow card for a frustration foul shortly after allowing the goal) I thought that Bradley had admitted as much as well. According to ussoccerplayer.com, however, Bradley had a different explanation after the match:

[I] [t]ook him [Clark] off in the first half which is something that we almost never do, but I was concerned about the card. When we're already down 1-0 and now you're trying to push the game in that part of the field, when you play that role playing with a card is incredibly dangerous. I told him that the decision is solely based on the card.

This is a little too much for me to swallow. I understand Bradley's desire to not throw Clark under the bus, which is admirable. But clearly the substitution was an admission, albeit too late, that Bradley had gotten it wrong this time and should have started Edu. It's hard to see how Bradley's post-match explanation helps his credibility with the his players, the media, or, most importantly for him, his bosses at the U.S. Soccer Federation.

The decision to start Clark may well cost Bradley his job, which would be unfortunate. But you can't help but wonder if he had simply said "I got this one wrong, Clark is a useful player and important to our squad, but Edu was the right guy for the job in this match" it might have made a decision to bring in a new coach a little more difficult to make.

C'mon In Boys, the Water's Fine

2010-06-23T20:11:00.019-04:00

One and one-half hours and 45 seconds of nerve-rattling theater.

That's how long it took for Landon Donovan's goal, probably the most important goal in the history of U.S. men's soccer. What happened in those 90 plus minutes defines both what is right about soccer and why the provincialists among American sportswriters, fans, and talk show hosts (Sean Hannity doesn't like soccer? Oh, the horror) are so wrong.

It was crazy, it was choreography, it was froth-at-the mouth exasperating, it was exhilarating, it was schizophrenic, it was sublime.

Not unlike a normal day, when you have a good day at work, but the drive home is stymied by some idiot driver (probably with an Ohio license plate on his vehicle), or are trying to finish the perfect project or paper only to be annoyed by a co-worker, or are making a brilliant argument in court only to be stopped dead in your tracks by an inane observation or simplistic question.

Unlike American football (which, by the way, I enjoy watching very much), so much of soccer is ungoverned and ungovernable. No instant replay, please. No excessive celebration penalties, we beg (okay, you get a yellow for taking off your shirt, but how many 15 yard penalties would the Saints get if they celebrated a touchdown the way the Slovenians celebrated a goal?).

Go ahead, keep the NBA, with its 100+ field goal attempts, 200 points, 50 personal fouls, and five dives/flops (yes, they do that in the NBA too) per game. Keep Major League Baseball, with its juiced up balls, juiced up bodies, and bandbox ballparks all introduced to score more runs and thereby make it more modern American.

Give me a game filled with uncertainties and foibles, where the most talented team doesn't always win and maybe a bad call does change the outcome. But where the players run for miles every game, play offense and defense (ask Tim Howard about that one) every game, and trade shirts with the opposition when it's over.

And, every once in a while, a game filled with 90 nerve-wracking minutes that ends in a single, exhilarating, jump off the couch, high-five, I-remember-when moment of complete joy.

America loves winners and loves winning underdogs even more. That's why it will be watching Saturday as we take on Ghana. But maybe, just maybe, during that match it will get a whiff of the ether that makes the game magical. As Delmar says in Oh Brother Where Art Thou shortly after he's been saved "C'mon in boys, the water's fine."

Well, that was good timing

2010-06-18T14:30:00.008-04:00

Since I had already tipped my hand regarding what this post would be about, Michael Bradley certainly helped make it a little more newsworthy with his late equalizer in the U.S. men's World Cup match against Slovenia. Bradley played much more positively than against England, probably because that's what his Dad asked him to do. His Dad, of course also happens to be the U.S. coach, Bob Bradley. And that's where it gets interesting, at least from my perspective as both a coach who has coached his children and as an employment lawyer.

Many employers have anti-nepotism policies that forbid, or at least limit, the hiring of relatives and significant others. The reason is understandable -- prohibiting the co-employment of spouses or children of supervising spouses or parents certainly avoids potential claims of favoritism. Having hard and fast rules prohibiting nepotism in the workplace avoids having to justify decisions regarding relatives of management employees, either to other employees or, worse, in court.

If U.S. Soccer had an anti-nepotism policy, however, the team would likely not be as good as it is (and how good it is can be argued as well). Michael Bradley earned his first cap for the men's national team in 2006; a few months later, after a disappointing showing in Germany, his father was named the interim coach, and later confirmed as the permanent choice. Although Michael was "there first" in terms of tenure on the team, under most anti-nepotism policies he would have to leave the team once his dad became the coach.

While some may assert that Bob Bradley's value to the team is questionable, very few doubt that Michael has become an essential member of the squad, doing the grinding work required of defensive center midfielders in today's game. His goal Wednesday was sparkling, but the work he does in front of the defense or in back of the offense, depending on what is needed at the time, is the stuff that goes largely unnoticed.

Employers with hard and fast anti-nepotism policies may end up like the National Team would be without Michael Bradley -- losing out on essential team members and potential stars merely because of familial relationships. Those that are willing to acknowledge both the value that relatives can add to a business -- in terms of talent and investment in the success of the business, however, by allowing the hiring of relatives may be better off in the long run.

Michael Bradley's teammates clearly think so. Landon Donovan was recently quoted as saying that Michael was a crucial cog in the team. Through communication and, most importantly, hard work, relatives can convince co-workers that nepotism, on the field or at work, can be a positive dynamic.

U.S. v. England Player and Coach Ratings and Observations

2010-06-12T18:26:00.005-04:00

Well, let's see. I did pretty well in naming the players who I thought were superior to the other side's (Gerrard, Rooney, Terry -- who I semi-hedged on but shouldn't have -- and Tim Howard). Gerrard was terrific throughout, Rooney came into the game late (and set up England's goal early). And John Terry -- I guess with all the hubbub about his less-than-admirable personal life (think Ben Roethlisberger without the bodyguard pimps) I'd forgotten how good he is. Howard's superiority to Green (but it could have just as easily been James) was obviously what earned the U.S. the tie. England did have better players, but Green's gaff yielded what I thought was a fair draw.

My player ratings (only for those players I care to rate -- scale of 1-10):

England

GK - Green 2. In addition to the obvious, his distribution of the ball was poor.

CD - Terry 7. Has amazing touch and vision for a central defender when he gets forward.

CD - Carragher 3. Was shockingly slow and lucky to not be sent off with a second yellow when he dragged Findley down with about 20 minutes left. If England have to play him the rest of the way, it's hard to see how they make the semi-finals, let alone hoist the Cup.

RB - Johnson 7. He often looked like the best player on the pitch, at least in part because Dempsey didn't deal with him very well.

CM - Gerrard 6. Nice move on the goal, took to the job of captain well.

F - Rooney 5. Pulled the USA's central defense apart when he would track back for the ball and looked likely to score sometime in the last 15 minutes. But disappeared for long portions of the game, especially in the first half.

USA

GK - Howard 7. Anything he touched was smothered, with only one exception that I can think of when he parried Lampard's shot over the bar.

RB - Cherundolo 7. Howard won Man of the Match, but my vote would have been for Cherundolo. Absolutely tortured Milner and Wright-Phillips going forward, made several crucial pokes and clearances. Outstanding.

CD - Onyewu 5. Was neither fish nor foul on Gerrard's goal as he half-heartedly followed Rooney out of the area but really didn't stay with him or take a position to help Clark mark Gerrard. Other than that he was strong and essential.

CM - M. Bradley 4. I'm not a Bradley hater, but I don't think he played particularly well. Was often in the right place at the right time, but maybe a pass or two to the guys with the Blue shirts would have been helpful.

LW - Dempsey 4. Scored the luckiest big goal he will ever have, but it got to the point where Bradley had to switch Donovan to the left to try to deal with Johnson's raids from the back.

F - Altidore 4. One great run, worked hard, but didn't often threaten.

Coaches

Capello 5. Hard to blame him for starting Green -- James isn't nicknamed "Calamity" for nothing and he's seen both in practice for three weeks now. Hands were tied when it came to substitutions because of the departures of Milner and King.

B. Bradley 4. Bold move to start Findley, who did what everyone expected -- stretched the England defense but never looked likely to score. Still, I was yelling at the t.v. from 70 minutes on for BB to sub him out, which he finally did seven minutes later. Thought the last two substitutions were very curious as he brought in two more offensive players in Buddle and Gomez (well, Gomez didn't actually make it in before the match ended, but the intent was there). I thought Edu for Clark or Bradley would have been a more useful substitution sometime in the last 15 minutes.

Still Us Against the World (or at least the Brits and Guus Hiddink)

2010-06-02T10:34:00.017-04:00

There's an interesting contrast in at least two analyses of the USA v. Turkey friendly last Saturday. Some folks, myself included as well as bloggers like Steven Goff of the Washington Post's Soccer Insider, were encouraged by the Americans' second half comeback and the energy and flair that Jose Torres and Robbie Findley brought to the side after a woeful first 45 minutes.

The performances of Torres, Findley, and Steve Cherundolo in the second half, particularly when contrasted with the indifferent to outright dismal displays by Ricardo Clark, Benny Feilhaber, and Jonathon Spector in the first, give some hope that Bob Bradley, viewed by many as conservative when it comes to his personnel decisions, had his hand forced by the marked improvement of play when those three were introduced and that they will play a prominent role when the U.S. begins its World Cup campaign against England in a week.

Turkey's coach-in-waiting, Guus Hiddink, however, had quite a different take, at least according to an article in England's Daily Telegraph. Hiddink is quoted in the article as concluding, after watching the US-Turkey match from the stands, that England's team is at a "higher level" than the Americans.

This analysis is "supported" by the Telegraph author's repeated assertion that the Turks mailed in their second half effort, an observation that I haven't seen shared anywhere else and is inconsistent with their performance in the U.S. in games against the Czech Republic and Northern Ireland earlier in the week. After coming all that way, playing well against two other teams, and going up 1-0 after 45 minutes against the Americans, why they would decide to tank the last half to get out of town faster escapes me.

One wonders if Hiddink was merely telling an English reporter what he thought he wanted to hear and whether the reporter actually watched the U.S. match. From the Hugh Grant interview on The Daily Show forward, the Brits have made it clear that, despite some lip service paid to improvements in the level of play in the U.S., they still have a healthy disdain for the American team as a whole.

While I'm far from thinking the England match a lock for the Americans, I don't believe that they're teams on different levels at this point. Clearly there are a few England players (Rooney, Gerrard, maybe Terry) who are better than any U.S. player at their positions. But the Americans have at least one of those (Howard), and maybe two or three depending on where Dempsey and Landon Donovan start.

Does the U.S. back four still scare me? You bet. But if Bradley gambles and plays Torres and Findley, early in the match if not as starters, then I think the Americans have a chance. Which is more than the British media and Hiddink are willing to give them.

As Long As We're Keeping Score

2010-05-14T09:26:00.008-04:00

This blog was my idea but its name was not. I was casting about for some title that might link the two main subjects that I anticipate will be discussed here (soccer and "the law"), and failing in a rather pathetic and uninspired manner, when Thomas McChesney, our marketing director, suggested Keeping Score.

It was perfect. The book I'm reading now, "Inverting The Pyramid" is a history of soccer tactics and of the game itself. A recurring theme in the early chapters of the book is the struggle between early purists of the game, who maintained that the way it was played, not the final result, should be paramount, and innovators who changed the game first by introducing the application of tactics and then altered their team's approach through their vision and competitiveness.

This debate played out at several different points during the development of the tactics and strategy of soccer, after it had evolved from village-wide melees to the more organized competition that grew out of the Laws of The Game adopted in England in 1863. The visionaries, whether steering their clubs away from the strict dribbling game that first evolved, the short passing game that followed, or the iron-clad 2-3-5 formation that was long the only way that squads lined up until the institution of the "WM", were decried for ruining the game.

Eventually, however, the new way became the established way as teams adopted the successful tactics of the leading managers of the day. The reason in every instance: Keeping Score. It is possible, although not likely, that soccer could have evolved into some form of intricate synchronized swimming on turf. But it did not. Ultimately, the competition was determined not by how pretty a player or team looked according to the aesthetics of the day, but whether they scored more goals than the other team.

But was some of the art of the game lost in the process? No doubt. I've been extremely fortunate as a high school soccer coach to have talented players who have always been able to play an elegant, attacking game that pleases at least me to watch. I suspect that, if push ever comes to shove, I will adopt a more defensive approach for my team if their abilities dictate it, if I believe that gives us the best chance of winning. I hope not.

So it is in the practice of law as well. We are bound by, and should willingly adhere to, principles that have been established, whether in the rules of professional conduct, the rules of civil procedure, or legislative laws or judicial rulings, that dictate what we can and cannot do. Questioning, examining, or even testing those limits can be fruitful, challenging, and rewarding. But if we conduct those exercises while simply attempting to stay on the correct side of those pronouncements without considering the reasons for the rules (the "soul" of the law, if you will) we may be successful lawyers but we will lose touch with who we are and (hopefully) why we became lawyers in the first place.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm not a Luddite and find excitement in change and new ideas. But not just for innovation's sake, nor at any cost. I understand that, whether on the field, in the courtroom, advising a client, or participating any other job, game, or endeavor, our success is largely measured by Keeping Score. I hope through this blog, however, to not just recount successes or failures, but to lend some observations regarding how I think coaches, players, litigants, lawyers, and employers ought to travel the path to that end result as well.