Jersey Thursday: No Words

This is Argentina, folks. Argen-freaking-tina.

Jersey Thursday: "Galactico" Edition

Bringing back Jersey Thursday after a week off.

This is the 2011-12 shirt for Real Madrid C.F. of Spain. Yes it is pretty clean, and no it's not their away shirt (think home whites in baseball, too...it happens). At first glance one might equate the gold stripes with championships. And he'd be right. The problem is that for a club as successful as Real Madrid (a record 9 European Cups, 31 Spanish titles - also a record) those titles have been a little harder to come by lately.

In more recent years, "Los Meringues" were labeled by a previous club president as "Los Galacticos." No, that's not a nod to our friends Landon and David's MLS club on the Left Coast. The name is derived from the huge ("galactic") names in the game that the club has always attracted. In the past 15 years, names like Ronaldo (the Brazilian one), Figo, Zidane, Roberto Carlos, Beckham, and Raul have put on the white shirt. Today, you can add Cristiano Ronaldo (the guido one), Higuain, and Sergio Ramos to the list.

And those guys did not come cheap. Several of those names came to the Bernabeu for record-breaking transfer fees (Cristiano Ronaldo's from Manchester United the most recent world record). On paper, Madrid always looks stacked. But they're without a La Liga title since '08. Why is that?

Let's not mince history, F.C. Barcelona (Real's most bitter rivals) have been freakin' GOOD. Barcelona has been winning La Liga since '08. Barcelona has won 2 European Cups in the past 3 years. Barcelona had seven of the starting Spanish starting XI that beat the Netherlands and won the World Cup in 2010 (Real had two).

But let's get back to the shirt. With all of the history and the sticky "Galacticos" label, these gold stripes become more like a red target. Every team already wanted to beat Madrid. But when you're star player looks like this in his gold stripes

victory tastes just a little sweeter. Let's be real, as much as we Americans loved sprinter Michael Johnson wearing gold track shoes at the 1996 Summer Olympics (ATL represent), he would have looked a fool had he not actually won. If you're going to flaunt it, you better have it.

And let's not forget the US Women and their gold kit from the 2007 FIFA Women's World Cup...They finished third.

Do Real have it? Do they have what it takes to overcome their "Antimadridista" rivals from the east? What do you think? I don't think so, but that's just me. Either way, here's hoping that the La Liga season provides us more excitement and drama this season. As long as Real Madrid is in the league, I don't think we'll need to worry about a deficit.

A Prince Steps Down

A part of my soccer childhood ended today. Paul Scholes (a.k.a "The Ginger Prince" or "Scholesy" or "one of the greatest midfielders of his generation") had his testimonial match today, wearing the Manchester United shirt for the last time. It officially marks the end of an illustrious career that included 2 European Cups, 10 Premier League titles, and 3 FA Cups (not to mention representing England in the 1998 2002 World Cups). But you would never know it by talking to him.

His uncanny combination of abilities to pick out a cross-field teammate from 60 yards away, create scoring opportunities from thin air, and smash home an inviting ball from just outside the box made him a nightmare for opposing managers to plan for.

But really, he embodies so much of what I (and I think most fans) romantically love about sports. He played with United his entire career. He was modest and humble when it came to matters off the field. He dreaded post-match interviews, and he always looked uncomfortable when receiving personal praise and awards. It was all about the team and the club. In the Twitter-fueled personal PR age in which we currently live, Scholesy was a wallflower. Because of that, I think there was always a little mystery about him, and it made us love him all the more.

Who was this midfield master, anyway? He never really wanted us to know. He'll always be the red-haired man in the red shirt who is always good for a yellow card for putting a little too much in the tackle. Honestly, he is a big part of the reason I first became a fan of Manchester United. I owe him a lot.

So farewell, Scholesy. Enjoy this time with your family away from the Theatre of Dreams. I know you've probably been looking forward to this more than anything.

The Greatest Comeback Since Lazarus a.k.a. Jersey Thursday

Forgive the cliche title, but I'm just a tad excited. Yes, I'm back. Believe it, people. Let's get to business.

Every Thursday, I want to post a new team's strip that is more interesting than it may first appear. Today, it's AFC Wimbledon's kit (yes, that Wimbledon) commemorating their promotion to League 2, the lowest tier of fully professional soccer in England.

While it may not be much to look at (although it is pretty classy), there's a lot going on here.

For those of you that don't know, Wimbledon FC was a club that existed until 2002 and boasted a little bit of a scrappy reputation in its day (even boasting Vinnie Jones of Eurotrip and Gone in 60 Seconds fame on its roster in the late '80s...He straight rocked folks. Google it.). WFC (like most English clubs) had a devout following and even tasted major glory in '88 winning the FA Cup.

And then, something terrible happened. They were bought up and moved away from southwest London to Milton Keynes, a decent distance north. In fact, it was the furthest distance by some margin that any British club was ever relocated.

While American sports fans can think of about ten different examples of relocation (the Seattle Supersonics of the NBA and the NHL's Atlanta Thrashers (RIP) come to mind), this just does not happen in England. WFC was rebranded as MK Dons (or whatever). Their identity was stripped. Fans started calling them "Franchise FC" (NOT a compliment).

Fans were upset. Really, they were sad. So what did they do with their outrage? Did they riot? No. They decided to be more constructive. They started their own club. Talk about old school kickin' it new school in 2002.

And now that club, after starting out semi-pro (VERY semi-pro) has made several promotions back into the world of fully-professional football (if you can call League 2 that).

Keep your eye on AFC Wimbledon this year. Who knows, one day, they might face their franchised brethren in league play. The lower leagues are treacherous waters, but the potential clash (which ALMOST happened in last year's FA Cup) would certainly be an...uh...awkward one.

Possession Is 9/10 Of The Law

I'm not going to ask if you're tired of the obscene hype surrounding the January transfer "window". (If it's a window, it ain't exactly crystal clear. Lots of mud there. You get my drift.) I know you wish it would either a) actually produce something worthwhile (Heskey and Defoe are helping.) or b) take a backseat to the awesome matches that have been occurring lately.

I just really hate it, because this is one of the most important periods in the season, and most of the people who care are too busy looking over their shoulders for "bigger" clubs trying to hawk their players or looking for meat market bargains of their own. There. I'll wipe the processed squash from my mouth and get down from my high chair.

But there is something interesting going on. If you're into the character of the clubs and the managers of whose teams you watch (and I am), then you're witnessing some truly fascinating stuff.

Let's start with one who's just won Pop Idol and trying to forge it's first teenybopper hit: Manchester City. Here is a "massive" mid-table club suddenly infused with more power than it knows what to do this (see Wolverine), and they got a nice trophy in Robinho to show for it. The beasts from the middle east(lands) are promising more big names with a taste for silver, but survey says! Twelfth? Huh. I was thinking ninth or something. And hey, they've said that they don't want to be like Chelsea and sign a bunch of upper so-so guys, so you know who they picked up? Craig "Hot Potato" Bellamy.

So what am I hitting at here. Here's the bottom line: Ownership isn't everything. A GOOD MANAGER IS MOST IMPORTANT, and they're not easy to find.

"Suits, are you daft? Of course you need a good manager. And Mark Hughes is one. After all, he's proved himself already at...Blackburn."

See? I told you.

Mark Hughes is ok. He's two scoops vanilla, hold the sprinkles. I'm saying if City do reach the upper echelons, it won't be with him at the helm. He just doesn't have the "stuff". What would happen if Maicon left Inter and shot to Brazil without warning? WWJ(ose)D? I can guarantee it wouldn't be a "talk" and penance money. It would be, "How many days have you been working here, not counting today?" Yes, if Mark did the same thing, he'd probably be shown the door, but hey it's his team, right?

A good manager is many things, but lenient is not one of them. The problem today is that ownerships aren't allowing fledgling managers to make a team of their own, get their hands dirty, and see what it's like to forge a team out of nothing.

Now let's look at the greatest manager in the world for the past fifteen years, Sir Alex Ferguson.

"Unfair, Suits. How can you compare the two?"

Sparing ALL possible jokes to that question, here's the common denominator: United and City are both serious about winning things. But who's actually doing it? What has made Sir Alex so successful has been his ability to build 1) players up from more than they were before and 2) a team out of those players. City (and Chelsea before them) have bought players already overpriced and at the waning peak of their years. SAF has picked them before they're ripe and nurtured them into a very delicious fruit basket. (Must. Not. Make. Ronaldo. Joke.)

Sure, Sir Alex has been on the hot seat at times like the early Nineties. But the club stuck with him. IMAGINE THAT! Kevin Keegan can't. Neither can Graeme Souness. (Man, I just realized they bother were at Newcastle. Although I don't think that's a coincidence.) I hope I'm wrong, but I don't see City being so patient with Mr. Hughes either. Darn instant gratification society.

I could go on and on, but I want to leave you thinking about this: What makes Van Gaal better than Juande? Jose better than Avram? And Sir Alex better than Big Phil?

My vote is trust. And a little bit of something my friend Jay-Z would say you can't buy: Class.

Another Auld Lang Syne

2009. One hundred forty-six years since the founding of the Football Association. We've got indoor plumbing, color television, and cheap Columbian coffee. But we still can't engineer a cleat that prevents slipping.

Pot shot? Maybe. But it exemplifies the past year in football: unpredictable, unscriptable, and unmissable (ooh, that's a bad one).

But the past is history, and the future's a mystery, so what lies ahead? "Well it's a mystery, Suits. You just said that. Surely you're not going to predict anything." You're right.

But a New Year's Resolution couldn't hurt anybody, right? True. And talk is cheap. Unless you're the exec who worked for the Atlanta Hawks a few years ago promising to refund all season tickets if they didn't make the playoffs. Bummer. That was expensive.

So here's three resolutions I propose to Sepp in Zurich. I know it's about as useful as asking Abe Lincoln to cut the cake at my wedding, but there's just something about this blogging thing that makes things look good in type.

1) Stop the goal line debates
It's going to take a major league with the tools in hand to do it (name one that doesn't), but someone is going to have to stand up to FIFA and use video replays to determine goal decisions. What's Mr. Blatter going to do? Ban the Champions League winner from participating in the Club World Cup? I hear the yawns from here. And I doubt CONMEBOL would refuse entry for Argentinian teams into the Libertadores next season. 'Cause South America needs another violent incident like Nelson Mandela needs 2010 World Cup tickets. The impetus is there, the technology is there, there just seems to be one pooper at this party. And it isn't Watford.

2) Open the floodgates
This is a minor one, but its premise is simple: Let them all play. Whether they're from Yorkshire or Madagascar, let players play for the clubs willing to sign them. Enough talk about limits on foreign players. If Arsene Wenger doesn't want to field a single Englishman in his side and give up an injury time equalizer against Villa in a match that really means something in that country, that's up to him. Let's just drop this whole topic altogether.

3) Salary Caps/Continental Leagues
"Heresy! Anytime we talk to you, Suits, it's always about how much you love how the good teams in soccer are rewarded and the bad ones are punished." I've been reading a great book entitled National Pastime, and it has finally convinced me that our sport would benefit from a little bit of competive balance. Maybe it's the weird heat we've been having in the South lately. Maybe it's the NFL playoffs and that league's ability to produce games of utmost quality week in and week out that's got me talkin' crazy, but I think those guys might be on to something. Either cap it off so we don't get stuck in a rut and start looking to OPEC for saviors or create a continental-wide league that allows the superpowers to take their local dominance to a grander stage. This feels awkward just writing this, so I'm going to stop, but it's definitely food for thought.

I hope you all had a fantastic end to your 2008. And whatever your doomed resolution may be, make sure to get your year's ration of football.

As an aside, here's a shout out to my man John Williams over at The Biased Scouser. Yes, he's Scouse, and yes we're friends. I'll leave it at that.

Galaxy > World?

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No, I'm not asserting the team from Los Angeles is the best XI this side of a Eusebio through Zidane all-time cryogenic assembly. But I am curious: What instinctual synapse fires in the brain of every modern footballer when he hears "Real Madrid" and "might" or "could" and "sign" that makes him call his travel agent for the best deals on flights and a hotel in the Spanish capital?

One could argue that 9 (still hard to imagine) European Cups is a pretty big sell. 31 La Liga titles makes the trophy case sparkle, as well. And there's a managerial seat hotter than the seventh layer of ...Well, you get the idea, Real is big news, no matter where you're from...or from where you hail.

But with the dream of every red-blooded, above-average talent to move to Real, wouldn't there be a little backlash? Wouldn't someone, somewhere say, "Forget it. I'm staying at Besiktas, and we're winning the Champions League!" The latest in this series of seduced stars is Karim Benzema (don't even get me started on the well-groomed Portuguese lad pictured above). He's been a part of a Lyon side that's won a gajillion consecutive French titles, but he hasn't tasted European success. And with France going nowhere fast, what else is there for him to do? Move to Borussia Dortmund and fight to win over the German fans of the highly competitive Bundesliga? Immigrate to Serie A and become the next Maradona of Napoli? No, no, no. None of that is a challenge. He would simply be pulling a premature Roberto Carlos, vanishing into a high-paying oblivion.

But there's a solution! Sir Alex Ferguson at now-World-Champion (Yeah, I'm going to wear that out.) Manchester United has made it no secret Karim would make a great addition to a strike force that already turns back fours into back fives with a quickness. But in a barrage of uncertain terms, Karim's reply was (and this is a rough transposition), "Le meh." Nothing doing.

Behold! Here come Los Merengues! They will make him a Galactico! Champion of the entire Milky Way!...But would they really? Take a gander at the La Liga table. UEFA Cup football for Benzima? Surely he deserves more than the propositions of a club wafting more empty promises than an Avon dealer. And yet he is wooed, simply blushing that Madrid, in all of its good graces, watched a couple of highlight compilations on YouTube and said, "This guy will sell jerseys in France."

Despite this harsh criticism, this isn't meant to be a bashing of Madrid (or a glorification of United). The point is I just don't get it. Why would someone want to forsake his local hero status to face a system of constant rotation and scrutiny from a press that smothers every training session?

The only reasoning I can come up with would be (in our case) to return Los Blancos to their Di Stefano days. But Benzima/Ronaldo/Huntelaar isn't the man to do it. Since the turn of the century, all of Madrid's spending and courting and lying has only landed two Spanish and European titles. Yes they won four big trophies, but they should have won them ALL. With as much as we, as a football-loving public, have read and listened to their cat-and-mouse games, Madrid should have won everything. But with all of this under-achievement and failure to take care of its stockpile of talent (see Beckham, David), why is it still their name in bright lights?

This is my plea to footballers everywhere: Make a name for yourself in your homeland. Become the star of the Jupiler League. Take Malmo to the UEFA Cup final. And then move somewhere that will appreciate you. And I'm here to tell you right now, it isn't Real Madrid.

Kill the White Space

Well, I've taken the plunge. Turned over a new leaf. Taken the first step. And perhaps I've christened the Titanic.

I'm writing a football blog. I'm not guaranteeing that anyone will ever read this, and I'm not saying it's his fault if he doesn't. But I figured I should at least give it a shot and put finger to keyboard on a subject that has become one of my life's passions.

And as a newcomer to the scene, I'll set myself up. I've been a fanatic of the World's Game since a bunch of Ole-ing Irishman and my overachieving American compatriots had me hooked in the Summer of 2002 and became a dedicated supporter of Manchester United the subsequent season as soon as I saw Paul Scholes switch the field and Ruud Van Nistelrooy force the Old Trafford grounds crew to buy fire extinguishers for the nets.

I watch as many games, read as many articles, and listen to as many (respected) pundits as I can to learn the nuances of this great game. But after all the tactics are pored over, it's the emotion that keeps me coming back. There are few things in this world that have the reach, power, and passion football provides, and there are even fewer that can bring us together as diehard supporters and heated rivals.

I'll get to business at hand in my next post, but I had to give you a glimpse into what football has given me before I give back to it.
Let the good times roll!