The Beautiful Game

Being born in Germany has several benefits, such as always having a marginally interesting conversation starter about being born in Germany, excellent and unique childhood experiences, and of course, Wonderful Wednesday[1]. My time in Germany also taught me an extremely important lesson: Soccer (AKA, football, futbol, the beautiful game, etc.) is an unbelievably great sport. Clearly there are plenty of other soccer fans in the US and surely they weren’t all born in Germany so they must have their own stories of how they became interested in soccer and I imagine they have figured out their own marginally interesting conversation starters. For me, I believe it was my childhood in Germany that forced soccer into my consciousness.

I’ve always understood to a certain extent that being an avid soccer enthusiast rendered me somewhat of an outlier in the US. For the most part, though, I’ve consistently found myself in communities where soccer is somewhere between fairly popular and pretty popular. As such, I rarely found myself in the infamous “soccer in America” debate. I know that I played and I know that my high school team was freakishly good (and not just at winning state titles, but also at staging the greatest half time show in the history of sport). This didn’t mean that I was unaware of soccer’s general perception in the US. It mostly meant that I didn’t care because I could still follow it and play it as much as I wanted to. It’s not until soccer becomes part of the zeitgeist that I find myself running to the sport’s defense. Never does soccer become part of the zeitgeist except every four years when a fun little event called the World Cup is held.

I have distinct memories associated with every World Cup dating back to Italia ’90 when West Germany won. For those of you scoring at home, I was living in West Germany at the time. Believe it or not, this was a big deal to West Germans (and probably some East Germans, but they were quite mysterious and lived behind a wall). Much to the world’s chagrin, the good ol’ US of A hosted the World Cup in 1994. Hosting combined with a surprising run of success got everyone to care about soccer briefly. During France ’98, I happened to be studying French so I felt strangely connected to the champions of that year’s edition of the Coupe du Monde (yeah, yeah, I like France and French people. Whatever.) In 2002, the Cup Finals were held in South Korea and Japan, which meant watching the Yanks’ surprising run the Quarterfinals at extremely odd hours. The last World Cup never happened. OK, it happened, but the US Men’s National Team decided to all travel to Germany and poop the bed together so I’d just as soon forget.

World Cup 2010: South Africa feels completely different than any I can recall. There are varying degrees of events reaching the national consciousness. If you put them on a scale of 1-10, 10 would be “White Bronco” and 1 would be “Donald Trump’s Hair”. Historically, the World Cup fell somewhere around a negative 3 in America. Even before this year’s World Cup started, it seemed that soccer might really register on the national radar. The coverage during the run-up to the Cup was unlike any that I recall. Granted, this had a lot to do with shameless self promotion on ESPN’s part, but I didn’t figure they would go to such lengths if there was an inkling that nobody was going to give a crap. There were other signs pointing toward an increase in soccer’s overall popularity (look up Seattle Sounders attendance figures), but it was hard to tell if I was just seeing those signs because I like soccer and wanted the signs to be there. A draw that led to a USA-England match certainly didn’t hurt the Q rating, but still the Yanks needed to perform for this thing to really take off. An epic goalkeeping blunder, a miracle comeback, a horrific officiating decision and a last minute Cup saving goal later, suddenly 78 percent of Americans have an opinion on vuvuzelas[2] .

The downside of major soccer events is the influx of soccer haters coming out of the woodwork. Even the haters this year seem to be coming from a place of, “I don’t like the diving and ties, but hey this thing seems like a big deal so I’m going to give it a whirl”. I’m not of the belief that there is a need for soccer fans to convince non soccer fans that it really is the beautiful game. Similarly, I don’t think it’s necessary for non soccer fans to point out why it’s stupid. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I hope the opinions are at least informed. To the person who thinks it’s boring because there aren’t enough goals, I hope you don’t defend baseball (and I hope you watched USA: 1 – Algeria: 0; if that was boring to you, then I can’t help you). To the person who thinks yellow cards are silly, I hope you say the same about the yellow flags in American football. It is easier to be comfortable with the silly things about “our sports” because, well, they’re our sports, damn it. To learn something new takesin time and sometimes it takes seminal moments. The US team and the diehards packing bars in US cities (like The Copper Hog in Bellingham, WA!) are doing their part to make the 2010 World Cup soccer’s seminal moment in this country. It may stick for good and it may go back to being a niche sport for liberal weirdos. Regardless, the world is watching. If you love soccer like me, enjoy the ride. If you’re new to soccer with this World Cup, I hope you stick around after it. If you’ve always hated soccer, and will continue to after this, well that’s OK too. I hope you at least gave it a shot at some point.

More to come tomorrow after (and maybe during) USA-Ghana. It may or may not involve crying. The World Cup has made me strangely emotional. Until then…

Let’s gooooooo USA!! Make us proud, boys.




[1] During the winter months, the lucky students at the Department of Defense school in Garmish-Partenkirchen, Germany had half days at school, with the afternoon spent skiing. Wonderful indeed. Especially when your mom is nice enough to always make sure that Wonderful Wednesdays were accompanied by the gold packs of gummi bears.

[2] I made that figure up. You thought this footnote would be a vuvuzela definition, huh? Why would I need to do that if 78 percent of Americans already have an opinion on them? Then again, I did make the figure up. They’re the horn thingies.

The History of My Team Stinks Part IV: Washington State University

Recently, the Washington State baseball season came to its predictable early conclusion after they were eliminated from the regional round of the College World Series. By “recently”, I mean on June 7. I was trying to cover up that this post isn’t exactly timely, but we’re all about transparency here at My Team Stinks. You can blame my editor for the delay. (Editor’s note: the editor’s name is Tim; again with the transparency.) I digress.

I refer to the postseason exit of Cougar baseball as predictable not because of anything this year’s team did. To the contrary in fact, this year’s team seemed to be quite a scrappy bunch that seemed capable of some pretty big things. Their failure was predictable because they are the Washington State University baseball team. For those who are not familiar with the history, my beloved Wazzu[1] is not exactly associated with athletic greatness. Even the once a decade occasions, when things do go well, are typically short lived. Not that it matters much for those of you loyal readers on the East Coast. True Story: during my senior year, the mighty Jason Gesser led Cougar football team was ranked third in the country deep into the season. This did not prevent one of my buddies back home from asking my how our football team was doing. How’s that for an east coast bias? A number three ranking won’t even get you noticed.
Speaking of the Jason Gesser led Cougar football teams, that particular era serves as a perfect representation of success on the Palouse[2]. The Cougs during Gesser’s Junior year completed an out of nowhere 10 win season with a win over the Kyle Orton led Purdue Boilermakers in the Sun Bowl. I really wish it had been the Drew Brees led Purdue Boilermakers to make it sound more impressive, but whatever. More critical in the statement is that the success could be described as out of nowhere. Virtually any time the Cougs field a highly successful team in anything, the success comes from out of nowhere. This does not speak to Washington State athletes being unusually sneaky, although such a reputation would be awesome. The fact that success is a surprise speaks to a decades-long history of futility. Washington State is like many of the great dynasties of American sports, except the exact opposite.

All of that said, the Sun Bowl success led to a rare instance that the Cougs went into a season with high expectations. Much to my delight, the expectations were actually met. Following an early season loss to THE Ohio State University, Gesser and the boys went on an unbelievable run to a Pac 10 Championship, including a huge win over USC (before they cheated). I had the fortune of being a student during this season and that USC win is probably the most exciting sporting event I’ve been to in person. I say “probably” because my memory stinks too. This season also featured one of the worst sporting events I’ve attended in person: the 2002 Apple Cup . Any event that leads to my mom crying over a Baileys and hot chocolate is not a good event. Fortunately, this brutal loss was not enough to keep the Cougs from a trip to the Rose Bowl. It was really the thought of my family’s planned attendance at said Rose Bowl having to be cancelled that had mom so upset, not the loss, but still. Bad times nonetheless. I distinctly remember two things about going to the Rose Bowl: finding out just what the hell a Sooner is and the Cougs getting the ever loving crap beaten out of them by a bunch of apparently angry Sooners. You see, even the finest of Wazzu achievements are sullied by failure. (Think Ryan Leaf).

The following season was another successful campaign that ended in a shocking upset of Texas in the Holiday Bowl. It appeared that Washington State football had somehow managed to stop stinking. Cut to the present. The Cougar Football team’s record over the last two seasons: 3 wins, 22 losses. Over the course of those 25 games, the Cougs have been outscored 1109-309. That works out to an average of losing 44-12 every single week for two straight seasons. To say Cougar football stinks is underselling it. Cougar football in its current form is an absolute abomination. That is, until we shock the world this year. Hey-ooooooooo! I should also mention that hope springs eternal on the Palouse. One can't really be a Coug fan without delusions of grandeur.

Similar stories could be detailed about the basketball team over the last five years and about the baseball team and even about women’s soccer. In short, every one of the athletic programs at Washington State University stinks (unless you count the women’s crew team. Sorry, women’s crew team. Nobody counts the crew team. If I could do something about this oversight, I would). When Cougar teams don’t stink, they are basically Charlie Conway in “The Mighty Ducks” before Coach Bombay taught him how to fly (i.e. “it’s Spazway, he’ll screw up). Prosperity is very likely to be met with disappointment. Such a track record is what gives rise to sayings like, “Win or lose, we drink more booze” and t-shirts that say, “Our drinking team has a football problem”. To wear the futility as a badge of honor surely doesn’t do anything to help matters, but it is kinda fun and certainly easier to write snarky things about.

Washington State has produced many distinguished alumni over the years in all walks of life: broadcasters, cartoonists, project coordinators and even athletes. It is a place that I love dearly and I am forever grateful for the time I spent there. Unfortunately, when all is said and done, being a Wazzu alum and an irrational sports fan is an extremely ill-fated combination.

Go Cougs.

[1] Wazzu is the unofficial nickname of Washington State University. It would make more sense if it were Washington Ztate University and thus WZU, but I love it all the same, just like every other Coug does (V. Lane Rawlins notwithstanding). I won’t footnote a footnote so you’ll have to Google V. Lane Rawlins. Don’t be lazy.

[2] The Palouse is a region encompassing parts of southeastern Washington, north central Idaho and, in some definitions, extending south into northeast Oregon. It is a major agricultural area, primarily producing wheat and legumes. The region is home to two land grant universities, the University of Idaho in Moscow and Washington State University in Pullman. Located just eight miles (13 km) apart, both schools opened in the early 1890s.

Down With Pennsylvania

The NBA Finals kicked off tonight. Because my teams stink and don't do things like get to the Finals, neither participant is a team that I would consider a favorite. Since 2008, though, I have found myself being consistently entertained by the Celtics and in particular Ray Allen. I could watch that guy shoot jumpers all day (in a way that isn’t weird if at all possible). Aside from being highly entertained by Lamar Odom’s candy addiction, there isn’t a lot about the Lakers I like so I’ll be rooting for the Celtics. American Idol notwithstanding, my rooting interests are typically closely associated with losing, so my apologies, Celtics Fans. My support is probably a harbinger of bad things to come for your traveling band of extremely tall Leprechauns. They are all Leprechauns, right?

Since the Wizards aren’t involved in the NBA Finals (shockingly enough), they won’t provide a lot of fodder about which I can keep a running commentary for the next couple weeks, excluding the unnecessarily long unrelated intro paragraph to this entry. Also, I just obtained a Playstation 3 so writing about current events will not be a strength of mine since most of my current events involve playing NHL 10. All these factors mean I will write about whatever I feel like writing about at a certain time. Today, I want to write about Pennsylvania. I do not like Pennsylvania.

Recently, the Mets swept the Philadelphia Phillies in a three game series in which the “Phightin’ Phils” were shut out in all three games. My disproportionate amount of excitement about this turn of events reminded me once again of my hatred for the state of Pennsylvania. Mediocrity, you see, is not the only common thread among my favorite teams. There has also been for years a recurring theme of teams from Pittsburgh and Philadelphia serving the role of nemesis to my sports heroes. This combined with driving across the state and its stupid toll road a couple of times with a little dash of the Amish mixed in are why I hate Pennsylvania. Just kidding, Amish people. You guys are cool. Nice quilts. Now get off the internet.

Aaaaaaanyhew….my first memories of distaste for a Pennsylvania team came from the Pittsburgh Pirates. Anyone under the age of 20 who may be reading this might be shocked to find out that there was a period of time when the Pirates were really good. They had a skinny guy named Bonds who played left field that vaguely resembled the enormous guy named Bonds who later played for the Giants and broke Hank Aaron’s all time home run record*. Bonds’ greatness combined with Doug Drabek’s mullet and Sid Bream’s knee brace to make quite a formidable team. I’ve previously referenced the Mets’ “Worst Team Money Could Buy Era”. This coincided with a time that the Pirates were winning three straight National League East titles and from what I can remember routinely bludgeoning the Mets. Also, the Pirates wear black and gold, which is an ugly and stupid combination. The Pirates have since evolved into one of the most pathetic franchises in the history of sports so my dislike of them has waned, but as they fell off, there were a few other annoying Pennsylvania based teams right there to pick up the slack.

Moving along chronologically on my timeline of Pennsylvania disdain, we come to a time when I grew to hate the Pittsburgh Penguins. I’d never imagined hating the Pittsburgh Penguins since they were such a force on the previously referenced NHLPA ’93, but as soon as I officially became a Caps fan, it became abundantly clear that I had no other choice but to hate them. When it comes to being a sports fan, you can either choose unbridled hatred or begrudging respect when it comes to your favorite teams’ rivals. I always choose unbridled hatred. I can acknowledge that the Penguins have had a number of good teams over the years and that because they have been good, the Caps have often been on the receiving end of painful losses to them. This is all completely rational, but being a sports fan is not about being rational. It’s about rooting like hell for one team and against the other. My love for the Caps is equaled only by my hatred for the Pens. Wins against them are more satisfying and losing to them is more painful. Sadly, I know far more about the latter. To refer to the Caps-Pens rivalry as a rivalry in the first place is a bit of a stretch. That would be like referring to my NERF free throw shooting contests with my brother Mark a rivalry. In reality it’s just one side losing to another over and over again. It would be unnatural to not hate something that caused you so much disappointment (please note: I do not hate my brother. NERF basketball failures were never that disappointing). It hasn’t helped that the Penguins, in my totally unbiased opinion, have been filled with such an annoying cast of characters over the years. From Jaromir Jagr (maybe I just hate mullets?) all the way through to Sidney Crosby, all in their ugly and stupid black and gold jerseys, there are no players on any team that have bothered me more. Sid the Kid will almost assuredly warrant his own blog entry at some point. It was disappointing to say the least when the Caps were bounced unceremoniously from the playoffs this year, but in a way it was a relief that the Capitals-Penguins playoff rematch never materialized. Series between the two take years off my life.

If there is a silver lining that comes from your favorite team sucking for an entire decade, it’s that it limits the amount of hate in your heart for the other teams. There was no dirty deed in beating the Bengals for most of my life since everyone did it. It would be weird if there was a team around for which the Bengals weren’t personal whipping boys. I was too busy hating the people responsible for my own team’s putrid play to concern myself with hating a rival. That all changed in 2005. The stars somehow aligned that year and allowed the Bengals to actually be good. The Steelers had established themselves to be the bullies of the AFC North by this point and any path to a title was likely to pass through the Steel City. An emotionally charged Bengal win at Heinz Field led to some of the Bengals thinking it would be really funny to wipe their cleats with the Terrible Towels (oh boy do I hate Terrible Towels). It turns out that the Steelers did not find it really funny and a rivalry was born. Naturally the two teams would meet for the third time in the playoffs, when The Kimo von Oelhoffen Incident happened. It’s bad enough to see your Franchise QB lying face down on the turf after clearly having his knee blowout. It’s even worse following it with watching the first playoff appearance in 20 years unravel slowly at the hands of a doofus QB named Ben and a s**t eating grinning WR named Hines. To make matters worse, that Steeler team (and their ugly and stupid black and gold jerseys) went on to win the Super Bowl in Detroit. Speaking of Detroit, did you know that Jerome Bettis is from Detroit? The only upside really was that the Seahawks fans I know were now united with me in their hatred of the Steelers, but they held more hate for the refs. It appears that there will be no shaking the Steelers any time soon, no matter how much of an idiot Ben Roethlisberger proves himself to be. If the Bengals can sweep the Steelers again next season, I will be one happy dude for at least two days this fall.

Just when I thought I had maxed out on teams that I loathed, along came the Philadelphia Phillies. As I mentioned before, the Pirates were initially the bane of my Mets fan existence. Later in the 90’s,the Braves were the turd in my Mets fan punch bowl. Now it is the Phillies who are peeing in my Mets fan Cheerios. In 2007 and 2008, the Mets endured epic collapses that left them making tee times come October instead of competing for the World Series. The beneficiary of these collapses you ask? You guessed it. The Phillies. If it doesn’t seem fair to you to hate the Phillies just because they figured out that it’s a good idea to not play awful baseball in September, you’re probably right. At this point I thought I’ve pretty well illustrated that fairness is not a strength of mine as a fan. Once again, it is much simpler to just hate the Phillies. Also, it doesn’t help that their roster is full of jerk faces. Just because Jimmy Rollins is absolutely right when he calls the Mets choke artists, it doesn’t make it OK for him to say it. So welcome to the club, Phillies. You are now on a prestigious list of teams that I will root against regardless of your opponent.

Long story short (seriously, you should have seen the long version), I don’t know what I did to Pennsylvania to cause them to turn their teams against me, but I really don’t appreciate it. If there was anything worth doing in the Keystone State, I would completely boycott it. Since there isn’t, I will continue to fulfill my duty as a sports fan: say snarky things about teams I don’t like.

Let’s Go Mets. Who Dey.

Note from the Author: Regards to my buddy Dave’s family and cheesesteaks. My beef is not with you.