Yesterday--Sunday the 22nd, though blogger is giving me crap, telling me that today is Sunday the 22nd--I watched two soccer games, both of which started just after 2:30 and ended around five. But that's about all they had in common, as the games were quite the study in contrast. On ESPN2, Spain played Italy in the UEFA Euro 2008 quarterfinals, while over on ESPN Classic, the United States topped Barbados in World Cup qualifying. The Euro game, played in Ernst Happel Stadion in Vienna, featured 48,000 screaming, chanting fans, as twin seas of azzurro and roja saw two top-flight European sides battle it out for the right to face Russia in the semis. Spain finally took the game down in penalty kicks, breaking their June 22nd curse with a 4-2 PK victory. Meanwhile, the Americans, needing only to avoid an eight goal loss to advance to the next round of qualifying, sent out what was essentially a B-team and boringly rolled to a 1-0 victory over an amateur (that is, they were actually amateurs, like, their real jobs are as construction workers and electricians) Bajan squad. The listed attendance on the website of USSoccer was "TBD", but as the stands only surrounded half the stadium, and the fans barely filled half that, I bet it won't be 48,000.
So, yes, a study in contrasts. (Contrasts or contrast? When I googled 'em--my go-to move when determining proper usage--I got almost the same amount of hits for each. You make the call.) But it needn't necessarily be. Sure, Italy and Spain are better than us, but not by a long shot. We tied the Italians in group play in the 2006 World Cup despite some shady-ass refereeing that forced us to play a man down for half the game, and we recently gave the Spanish all they could handle before falling 1-0 in Spain. But as these teams played tough competition in front of millions of worldwide viewers, the American national side slogged through 90 minutes of soccer with a team that might charitably be called a minnow.
And so it goes in CONCACAF qualifying--the United States is forced to endure a seemingly never-ending parade of minnows, guppies, and polliwogs en route to the World Cup, an event at which their attendance is nearly assured from the start. (The American side has reached each of the last five World Cups, an honor it shares with just six other teams: Argentina, Brazil, Germany, Italy, South Korea, and Spain. Those teams are more than good.) Crushing tiny island nations and overmatched Central American squads fails to prepare the Americans for the biggest stage, as evidenced by our poor performances in European-based events. And I can't imagine the blue-collar workers of the Bajan national team particularly enjoyed being steamrolled, no matter how few fans are around to watch them get embarrassed. But as the title of this piece promises, I have a modest proposal that will help cure American soccer ills.
Inspired by the recent example of Australia, as well as the continued practice of Israel and Turkey, I think the United States should leave CONCACAF and join CONMEBOL, the South American governing body of soccer. Other squads have shown soccer regional governing bodies need not be tied strictly to geography, and there's no reason the United States needs to let our lack of competition hold us back. CONMEBOL features two top five teams in Brazil and Argentina, as well as respectable squads Paraguay, Uruguay, and Colombia. CONMEBOL World Cup qualification, in marked contrast to CONCACAF qualifying, is simple and straight-forward, as each of the 10 members all the others in a home-and-home series, with the top four advancing to the Cup while the fifth place team takes on fourth place finishers from CONCACAF. The opportunity to face this competition, in extremely hostile environments, would be forge the Americans into a mentally tough side able to get results in any conditions.
Just as the Socceroos of Australia were welcomed with open arms into AFC, the Asian federation, so, too, would the South Americans be glad to add us to the mix. We have gained some measure of respect worldwide in soccer, and our arrival would probably secure an additional qualifying slot for CONMEBOL. Our developed and (normally) strong economy could be of some benefit, as American fans could inject touristy-stuff in South America. And our foreign policy, generally unpopular in South America, could be challenged on the pitch. (If that doesn't make sense, just tune into the USA-Cuba qualifiers later this year. It will then.) The addition of the American side could help raise the level of play and qualifying in CONMEBOL, while also providing the United States the opportunity to take its game to the next echrlon.
The obvious drawback to this plan, of course, would be the loss of a heated rivalry with Mexico. El Tri has given us all we can handle and then some, and passion runs deep on both sides of the Rio Grande. But sometimes you just need to say, "Adios!"
Sunday, June 22, 2008
A Modest Proposal
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Red, White, and... Brown?
This afternoon, the United States men's soccer team played England in a friendly at Wembley. As Coach Bradley mainly used the match to test the form of his European-based players--only one MLS player started, with two more coming on in relief--and we were missing star midfielder Landon Donovan--who had a sore groin--the Americans weren't particularly expected to have a strong showing, and we surprised nobody. Amherica's poor passing, inability to set up quality scoring chances, and propensity to concede dangerous free kicks led to a 2-0 England victory.
So, our play was exactly like expected, anyway. And you might even say the same about our uniforms, in that in being nothing like anyone could've expected, they were exactly like could've been expected. (It's only fitting, I suppose, that such a contratian-sounding comment would owe a debt to Slate, and here it comes). The United States soccer teams' uniform troubles (and travels) have been well-documented. (Please note that the placement of the apostrophe was not a grammatical mistake. Rather, it was a nod to the American women's own kit problems, which, though many, will not be covered here.) Michael J. Agovino's piece that appeared on Slate last May--www.slate.com/id/2168476/--decried the American reluctance to pick a nice kit or two and stick with it. (For those who aren't up on soccer uniforms, and I can't say I blame you, "kit" just means "uniforms and stuff". Teams usually have two kits, a first and a second, and would generally prefer to wear the first as long as it isn't too similar to that of the home team, which has first pick.) In American soccer-playing history, long-but-not-distinguished, we've sported quite the array of uniforms. Below is a sampling. (Please note as well that I was unable to find any old pictures in color online, so these are all from the last 15 years.)
Yeah. Not pretty. Some red, some white, some navy blue, some royal blue, some stonewashed-looking blue, some diagonal stripes, some vertical stripes, some circles, some stars. A couple of those are solid, international-level kits, and more than a couple are pure garbage. But what we wore today... hoo boy.
I couldn't believe my eyes. America, as even foreigners like blogsquatch and dead people like blurryfoot know, is red-white-and-blue. Sure, the US men's soccer team hasn't been able to pick out a blue and stick with it, but at least we've been blue. When I asked some friends (and friends of the site) what color the US's uniforms were, I got the following responses:
Mrs. Schrute: "It's the USA. Of course they're wearing blue... No, brown. No, blue. Sons, why's the United States wearing brown?"
MacAttack: "They look gray... Or a weird blue."
Slov: "Blue. [With confidence.] Black. [With slightly less confidence.] They look gray. [She thinks for a moment.] Are they--[Totally perplexed.]--purple?"
As for myself, well, I think they'd be best classified as gray, perhaps even "slate". Maybe it's some kind of homage to Agovino's Slate commentary that the US needs to brand itself by picking something and sticking with it--so we picked something no one else would wear in a million years--or maybe it's an attempt to be "cool" and "cutting-edge" in an effort to attract fans who don't give a damn about World Cup quarterfinal appearances (2002, natch) but really like space-age looking Nike gear, or maybe they started as a normal blue and got damaged on the plane ride over. Or maybe they're just really fucking ugly, and will get thrown in the dustbin of bad American soccer uniforms like so many that have come before them.