Genuinely baffled about Gerrard

I’m not prone to the levels of hagiography that a lot of the English press crank out for Steven Gerrard – while there’s no question about his motivation and ball skill, I just don’t see him as being in that top level of midfielder who can either see the field to drive the team forward or take over a game. He’s very good at his best, but not superlative.

That said, he’s also about the last person I’d expect to see in the nick over actual bodily harm and affray. If the reports are true that it was over a DJ’s unwillingness to play Gerrard’s faves (Phil Collins and Coldplay), I could see an argument to be made for assault on unsuspecting listeners, but Gerrard has never struck me as the type to knock someone about in the fashion of Joey Barton.

Pardon me for being a patronizing middle class twat, but it always looked to me like Gerrard had managed to maintain something of the best part of a working class consciousness – of finding joy in the game he played on a concrete estate, of caring about the reaction of the fans, of paying attention to kids from similar backgrounds – without any accompanying ASBO nonsense. It just seems out of character. Baffling, even. It’ll be interesting to see what the actual story / stories might be.

A tie with the Faroes, despair-o

I hadn’t been going to comment one way or the other about the death by car accident of far-right Austrian politician Jorg Hairder, who wrecked his car after a long time in da club. While politics isn’t really enlivened by what he was peddling, he was on his way to see his mother for her 90th birthday and I’m sure she loved him very much. It wasn’t karma, I thought, don’t be cruel.

Then I noticed that Austria only managed a 1 – 1 draw with the Faroe Islands on Saturday, and the Faroe Islands scored first at that. My feelings about getting a draw against the Faroes are well documented, so I can understand why Haider might have been distraught and it all flowed from there.

Whether Austrian politics would have been improved by a loss ten years ago to a team composed of Gypsies, socialists, and illegal African immigrants, remains in the realm of counterfactual speculation.

A true Scot?

At some point in the early 90s, my cousin was in elementary school in Edinburgh, and a new kid from Canada joined the class. The teacher asked where this boy should sit, and someone pointed to the lone black kid in the class – whose parents were from Nigeria, but who had been born in Scotland – and said, “Put him next to Ali, he’s foreign.” Ali’s indignant response, “Ah’m no furrin, Ah’m Scottish!” In his mind, you don’t have to be a paler shade of white to be a Scot.

In which spirit, Chris Iwelumo proved that he is a true Scot today by missing a complete sitter against Norway to cement a goalless draw. In fact, the Guardian is soliciting comments about whether or not it was the most egregious goal-mouth miss in recent memory:

Well, Chris has done his part to show that you don’t have to have a glow-in-the-dark white arse to be a true Scot.

My teachable moment from the Beavers’ battering (heh)

People ask me, DC (because I’m a man of the people like that), how is it that you retain some equanimity when USC loses to teams like Oregon State? And I start out with logical explanations – if you don’t establish the power running game when Stafon Johnson is making some headway, if you only adjust to an aggressive short-arse waiting out your over-commitment on defense for one quarter, if you drop the ball or throw interceptions, then you can’t really expect to win, can you? (Also, deflecting a bad pass into a Beaver’s hands for a touchdown when you’re already behind is perhaps too generous a host gift…)
And they say, no, DC, not the logic, we want to know about the zen like calm that descended on you in the early fourth quarter and then again after the botched on-side kick.

Ah.

Well, it’s pretty easy, really. You try supporting Scotland in international football for a while and if you can’t develop the capacity to cope with disappointment, you’ll go mad. Some examples, based on last night in Corvallis and the last couple of seasons for USC. To recap, USC comes off two games in which they battered Virginia and smothered Ohio State, only to have their ass handed to them by an Oregon State team that was prepared and motivated. The press response is split pretty evenly between hammering USC for exposing their (the press’) failure to learn from the past, and pointing out that USC has a habit of losing games they should win and then winning the rest of the season.

I can point to games in just the last ten years or so that got me prepared for this.

The Let-down: Scotland beats France twice in Euro 2008 qualifiers, and then proceeds to lose to Georgia in Tbilisi, a team which fielded a 17 year old in goal and two feral 8 year olds on the wing. This requires that they then beat Italy. Scotland are hanging on to a draw at home against Italy (admittedly on an offside goal) before one of the worst free kick decisions of all time hands the Italians a set piece from which they score, sending Scotland crashing out of yet another tournament.

The In-Game Generosity: Scotland opens World Cup ’98 against Brazil in the Stade de France and scores two of the three goals in the match. Unfortunately, one of them is an own goal, and the Brazilians walk away with a 2 – 1 win.

Getting Walloped by Teams They Really Should have Beaten: Even though it was a draw, this another opportunity to air out the 2002 draw against the Faroe Islands, a team of part timers who make their money teaching arithmetic or fishing (or both), and which has a league where the half-time entertainment is chasing people’s dogs off the pitch. Or, just a few weeks ago, losing to Macedonia because they gave themselves 24 hours to get used to playing in 100F weather. Or, going out of the World Cup in 98 after losing 3 – 0 to Morocco*.

The Pointless Strong Finish: For Scotland and England, qualification for Euro 2000 came down to a two game play-off. England beat Scotland at Hampden, and fully expected to win at home in Wembley. Scotland proceeded to come into Wembley and beat England in the last game played at the old stadium. Of course, England qualified anyway on away goals and Scotland watched the tournament from home.

So in the grand scheme of things, the once-or-twice-a-season episode of bed-shitting for USC is pretty easy to take. It’s all a question of having the right perspective.

* Incidentally, I walked into the Five Guys around the corner from the office in February or thereabouts, wearing a Scotland rugby hat, and the guy behind the counter turns out to be from Morocco so of course we have to reminisce about that. Even though I couldn’t remember the game in question when I started, I knew where we were going…

This summer, I was collecting my daughter from a pool party locally and one of the lifeguards accosted me because he was Macedonian and thought I was English, and wanted to taunt me for the time that England pooed the bed against them. It was only the luck of timing that saved me from getting another maudlin reminiscence about how Scotland provided them with a real win over one of the originators of the game etc., etc.

Scotland saves me some time

Thanks to a 1 – 0 loss to Macedonia today, Scotland doesn’t have a lot of room left for error in their qualification effort for 2010. Odds are I won’t find myself glued to a computer monitor watching a 4″ x 3″ feed of the game from the SFA, hoping that the last 20 minutes of the last match will make a difference, because it won’t.

Leaving aside the technical merits, is it really surprising that a team from Scotland with little time to acclimate to local weather conditions would struggle to play in 100 F? No, not really.

Bugger.

A new frontier in global pun synergies

Arshavin. Arsene. Arsenal. Three great sources of arse-related jokes, destined for greater greatness together? Arshavin’s agent certainly thinks so:

“The stable situation in the club and the influence of Arsène Wenger to Arsenal and to English football is huge. I think this is an advantage,” said Lachter. “If Arsenal go for Arshavin it could be really good for both parties. Arsenal is a very young team and Arshavin is 27. There’s something about combining young and older players, they propagate attacking football.”

Oh please oh please oh please let this happen. I don’t want to wax emotional, but if this only proves to be a close shave, a rumour created by a cheeky agent, I’ll be bummed out.

My old pal Manuel Mejuto Gonzales strikes again…

Now admittedly it’s not denying the Italians a goal, then getting a free kick decision completely wrong and giving the Italians the opening for their win against Scotland, but my old chum Manuel Mejuto Gonzalez was up to his old tricks today during the Germany – Austria match. Thirty three fouls in 90 minutes, three yellow cards (a bit slack, surely), and both managers ejected… all in a day’s work. Actually, for all that the Oracle of Glasgow Andy Gray was making some noise about Mejuto Gonzalez being a fussy referee, the game statistics don’t show that heavy a hand: the Turkey – Czech Republic game yielded 28 fouls, 7 yellow cards, and a straight red when noted Turkish goal-keeping bully Volkan Demirel (6′ 2″, 203 lbs) brutally knocked over defenseless Czech striker Jan Koller (6′ 6″, 227 lbs).

Perhaps it’s not that Mr Mejuto Gonzalez is a crap referee – but when he gets it wrong, he doesn’t do so in half measures.

Bissinger’s Bile: a commentary

Much virtual ink has been expended today on the bunfight on HBO, during which Pulitzer Prize winner “Buzz” Bissinger got his rant on with Will Leitch of Deadspin as his strawman, and Bob Costas as his sidekick.

There’s no need to spend any time defending blogs and their content from the likes of Bissinger and Costas – their permission is not needed. Complaints about the validity of the contents of blogs, about the lack of credentials of their writers, about the tone and editorial decisions: all of these are indicative of people who are attempting to close the barn door after the departure of the donkey of disintermediation, to use an old Web 1.0 buzzword. They are also the cries of the leaders of the guild upon realizing that some ne’er-do-wells aren’t making firkins in the approved fashion – i.e., the way they were told.

What is worth some assessment is the behavior of Bissinger on the show itself and the assertions that he was making – because there’s no excuse for what he did, and plenty of reason to doubt what he was saying.

Rhetorically, Bissinger bushwhacked Leitch with selective quoting and by being deliberately provocative. He did everything he could to position himself as the revered elder putting the errant whelp in place. Not only was it egregiously rude, it was also self-sabotage: who was the more emotional, uncontrolled, abusive, and unreasonable person on that panel? And since when has Bissinger been the aribiter of what makes a good sports writer and the canon that they must have absorbed as a pre-condition to writing? Perhaps other people wondered, as I did, if there was a larger thematic point here: was Buzz getting unhinged to become the strawman of blogs that he decried? Since he’s a Pulitzer winner rather than an Oscar winner, I rather doubt this was a false display, and that in fact the anger was genuine.

Let’s take Bissinger at his word then, and examine two of his claims: that blogs are somehow exploitative and vile in tone, and that they represent a dumbing down of America because there is no quality control, no credentialing of the writers -no way, in essence, to claim the authority that Bissinger so clearly likes to presume he has.

As others will doubtless have pointed out, the tabloid nature of blogs is in no way more exploitative than the tone of mainstream coverage. Despite my best efforts to avoid hearing any more about Roger Clemens poking needles in his ass and his bat up a country and western singer, it’s all over the mainstream news stations. Matt Leinart and Brynn Cameron fought over child support in the Ventura County Star and the LA Times, because both newspapers were willing to publish interviews despite the matter being pursued plainly as a negotiating tactic between lawyers. But it all counts as human interest about sports, and it fills pages and air time, both of which are editorial priorities, so it must be news.

Rather like pornography, real journalists know exploitative stories and pictures when they see them. Let’s go back to Matt Leinart and the pictures of him drinking beer with young lovelies in Arizona that so exercised Bissinger. They probably don’t rise to the level of news in the sense of having any meaning beyond a young single millionaire being inherently interested in, and of interest to, scantily clad young ladies. That’s not shocking, but it is good for a chuckle. It’s also no more or less relevant to Leinart’s quarterbacking skills than how much time he spends with his son, and how many thousands of dollars he provides to his baby momma on a monthly basis, but those were – apparently – acceptable stories.

And to take this one step further, who is Bissinger to talk about being exploitative? In essence, he worked his way into the lives of a group of teenagers and adults in Texas and laid that bare to make money. Nobody forced them to cooperate, but they put their lives out there so that he could make some money and win a Pulitzer. In what way is that any less exploitative, voyeuristic, or intrusive than a picture of Matt Leinart pounding beer? Beyond the use of other people’s stories to feather his nest, Bissinger (on his website) places the book as part of a trip away from his insulated life as part of the elite of the eastern seaboard, which – if you were of a mind to be uncharitable – takes the veneer of an anthropologist’s participant observation and adds a dash of self-hating elitism: the desire to redeem privilege by comporting with the echt volk. The fact that the result was, by all accounts, a very interesting and compelling narrative goes to show that flawed people and mixed motivations don’t automatically mean poor writing.

Moving to another form of exploitation… The inverse of the human interest story from the mainstream press is the finger-wagging human disinterest story, about athletes who have departed from the mythologies that allow columnists and reporters to think that sports reflect the finer things about culture – mens sana in corpore sano, the noble and muscular Christian, rather than the hustler and the malcontent. Woe betide the player who falls off the pedestal, for vilification is his or her lot. And in the course of casting out the apostates of sports, the mainstream media can be as merciless, if less profane, than the bloggers.

Consider the vilification heaped upon Barry Bonds for failing to conceal that he was cheating, or think back on the number of times that Terrell Owens was described as a cancer. Any of you who follow British athletics will have heard the abuse directed at [drugs cheat!] Dwain Chambers, in much the same vain. Perhaps the sportswriters were so busy getting their credentials and reading their dog-eared copies of W.C. Heinz as to not be aware of it, but some of us know that using rhetorical comparisons to cancer is one stock in trade of totalitarian states and bigots throughout history. Apparently it’s not overkill for talking about someone with a marked inability to subordinate himself to the will of the coach. But heaven forfend that some blogger call Sean Salisbury a douchebag – because that’s inflammatory.

As for the question of authority and credentials… it’s hard to know where to start. Let me channel my inner Bissinger here: having logged some time in a PhD program at Brown, I know from rigor and I know from qualifications. Older and established sports journalists have never had to rise to a real level of rigor, at least that an academic, lawyer, or doctor would recognize as such. The argument appears to be that serious real journalists are better qualified to say something truthful because their work is subject to review (fits AP style guide, not libelous), that they have written a lot, and that they are bound by journalistic ethics. Those statements are true to some extent, but in practice columnists and indeed beat journalists were rarely held accountable in public for their errors before groups of the Great Unwashed had the temerity to call them out via sports radio and then blogs. Blogs are peer reviewed if they have a broad appeal, and ignored if they don’t – it’s a publishing medium with very immediate feedback loops.

The assertion that blogs are also problematic because you can’t tell who to take seriously is profoundly patronizing – in essence, it is a claim that people who read blogs are so stupid or under-educated that they can’t apply any kind of critical assessment to what they are reading. Is this the fault of blogs, or the fault of education? Even if you assume that Bissinger is right – that most blogs regress to the mean, and the mean is crap – isn’t this a reflection of a society that’s given up on teaching its future citizens to read, to write, to think, and a base of knowledge upon which to base those opinions? In other words, are blogs not a symptom, rather than a cause?

And if blogs are a symptom, then I am at a loss to imagine what Bissinger thinks of his readers. Presumably he doesn’t think that they are all morons, if they like his book, and since they can’t all have gone to Dalton, Andover, and Penn, then he must allow for the prospect that people are able to exercise some ability to think or react critically about what they read.

And, let’s be serious for a moment here: even if people aren’t doing a great job of assessing the worth of blogs, what of it? The future of the republic doesn’t rest on whether or not Matt Leinart drinks beer from lady parts. Sports journalism generally lurks at the edge of the umbrella of serious journalism, a profession that has become a shadow of its former self in the need to sell advertising for Proctor and Gamble and meet the quarterly numbers. They are at the margins of a serious profession, but to hear Costas and Bissinger tell it, they are the the Woodward and Bernstein of the age. That is delusional.

If they are serious journalists, why are the stories all so shallow? Why did we hear about Terrell Owens being a cancer, but not the use of athletes with serious cognitive and emotional issues as a matter of course? Why do we get to see people being jacked up every weekend on Sports Center, but you have to read the Washington Post Sunday Magazine for a serious look at the long term health effects of playing football? Because sports journalism, as a general rule, is as crap as the resources, time, and rigor being applied to it, and as dumb as the people who make it think we are.

And in some regards, maybe that’s what Bissinger should have focused on – not that blogs are inherently crap, but that the worst of them are merely a cartoon version of the failings of workaday sports coverage. He’d have had more of a leg to stand on if he had said that none of this – not ESPN, not the sports pages, not blogs – amounts to a hill of beans for understanding the bigger picture, and that’s a value that authors can provide with time and reflection, without the need to sell more cases of beer and bottles of Viagra. He could have remained self-satisfied (forty years at my craft!) and yet shown some capacity to think about new things.

But he didn’t say that. He simply took a series of intemperate swings, and made himself look like as much of as ass as the blogging strawmen he condemned.

Afterword*:

On an unrelated note, Braylon Edwards missed a crucial point about the difference between the athletes of the 1960s and today. While there’s an argument to be made that the great unwashed is too caught up in sports these days, there’s a real sense of ownership that goes along with the over-identification: we pay these athletes, whether through ticket prices or buying whatever tat they are endorsing, and we pay them exponentially more than their forebears of the 1960s and early 1970s ever made. They may not work for their fans, but they are getting rich off them, and to my mind that means the fans can have an opinion, no matter how misguided it may be, because they’ve paid for that right.

*Yes, I am that pretentious, and I own it.

Luis Aragones watches F1 racing – who knew?

Charming story about groups of Spanish Formula One fans – apparently unhinged by “mistreatment” by McLaren of gigantic cry-baby Fernando Alonso – taking the time to go and watch Lewis Hamilton practice at the Circuit de Catalunya. Charming, inasmuch as they did it in blackface, brought along banners with racist slogans, and cracked out some racist chants.

The Spanish Racing Federation was at least better able than the Football Federation to issue a suitably indignant press release:

“The Federation wants to show its absolute repulsion at these incomprehensible incidents and demonstrate its support and solidarity for the McLaren team and especially their driver Lewis Hamilton,” said a statement.

“This type of idiots that are confusing sporting rivalry with violence should be aware that the Federation has a zero-tolerance approach to this issue.”

And rightly so.

What a bunch of scumbags – I suppose they’d mugged enough illegal African immigrants that they had the money for tickets and some boot black.

I wonder how many of them can be found at the Camp Nou cheering for Samuel Et’o, Thierry Henry, and Ronaldinho?

This is an improvement over man-dog sex?

I thought that, perhaps, when Rick Santorum was shown the door by Pennsylvania voters, the body politic was well rid of his dirty mind, always thinking about people mounting their dogs and the like. Alas, Arlen Specter is taking up the standard of asinine statements, but hasn’t the decency to bring the crazy with it.

The good Senator wants to know why the NFL destroyed the tapes that the Patriots used in the first game of the season against the Jets, and is muttering about reviewing the NFL’s anti-trust exemption.

Let me give you a little hint, for free, Senator: give it a rest already. Nobody cares except for the asterisk crowd, and they don’t need you in order to feel superior.

The economy is falling apart, people are losing their homes because they can’t afford the debt payments on their gall bladder surgery / 60″ plasma (delete according to political preference), the nation’s infrastructure is falling apart, we’re in two wars, Britney Spears has only just now been committed for mental health treatment, and this is what you’re worried about?

Perhaps the good senator is pissed about the Eagles and Steelers not being in the big game this year. He must be a big fan of the NFL, right?

In the meantime, Specter said he might miss Sunday’s big game.

“I may play squash while it’s on,” Specter said.

There speaks a man of the people, earning his $163,000 per annum.