Archive for category Brazil
AN ADULT’S LETTER TO ALEXI LALAS
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Alexi Lalas, Brazil, Confederations Cup, Maradona, US Soccer on August 27th, 2009
By Diego Maradona
Alexi,
What’s up you leather-faced buffoon? Last time I saw you I was probably putting the ball through your legs. Or blowing lines off your wife’s potatoes after your country banned me in ‘94. You’re lucky I didn’t get you on the field. Just kidding. Have we met before? I don’t remember. But an American kid with big dreams keeps emailing me to tell me you’re spewing garbage about American soccer on ESPN and something about a pod shell. He says you’re treating small soccer players worse than women. So I guess you want a war.
Or, I would want a war if you didn’t make me laugh all the time. Seriously, you’re a funny man on TV, which I respect. But men should not be funny all the time. That is for clowns. And clowns are mostly sad. So I just need to clear one thing up before I get started. Are you serious when you say that “size does matter in soccer and it’s mattering more and more”? Are you serious in saying that America needs bigger players to win? Are you really fucking serious and not just trying to entertain people and make me laugh? If you are not, like I hope, then you can stop reading now and we’ll pretend I never wrote this. But if you are, then it’s on man to man. (Hold on, while I get another drink).
I would look up at you like I look up at a tree, Alexi. It’s true. But I have balls as big as oceans that would sweep you away like dead wood. That is what matters in soccer, and life – not physical size. Strength is different than size. So let’s get that straight. Look at all the best players in the world of all time from any country. First off, myself. I probably come up your gut. Pele would come up to your chest. George Best was up to your neck. And Cruyff to your chin. Got it? Ok.
Now you say that players today are getting bigger and bigger. Maybe this is true. Today you have players like Kaka and Gerrard. You had Zidane. Fine. But they’re not good because of their size. They’re good because they’re good, maybe even despite their size. They’re good because they have the heart and mind and blood for the game. See, this is what I like so much about soccer. It’s such a human sport, unlike a lot of those you play in your country. You can’t tell who is a star by their appearance. You don’t need some kind of freakish body type to be good. You need to have it inside of you. We don’t have a name for it, but you dicks probably call it skill. And the skill matters most on the ground, where the game is played. If you don’t believe this, then I pity you.
Next you say Brazil is a big scary team, and that’s who America should be more like. I admit, Brazil is bigger than it has been before. But what are you smoking Alexi? Brazil isn’t that big. They’re still a bunch of sissies, like you’ll see on September 5th. You make me use numbers, and I fucking hate numbers. But my secretary sent me this:
Brazil’s roster for the Confederations Cup had an average height of (in your language) 5’11’’ and an average weight of 166 pounds. The USA’s roster, without your precious goalkeepers, had the same average height and weighed seven more pounds. You fatties! So you can stop talking about this like it’s the reason you lost. The biggest teams are all the ones from North Africa. And France is pretty big too. I don’t have to look this up. I just know. And these teams are Ok.
Have you seen my team Alexi? Have you seen Mascherano? El Jefecito. Tevez? El Apache. Have you seen my son-in-law? Have you seen fucking Messi, the one who you call “a dying breed”. Have you seen this little fucker! A dying breed? Me? Messi? We haven’t even started yet! I hope we get you country-club bitches in the World Cup.
I know you’re trying to sell soccer in America because that’s your job. But stop saying foolish things so I can focus on more important things than kicking your ass. Who’s the best player on your own national team Alexi? That’s what I thought.
Yours,
- Diego ◊
Translated by Cyrus Philbrick
MY VERY OWN MODERATING EDITORIAL REFLECTIVE ON THE STATE OF U.S. SOCCER IN LIEU OF THE CONFEDERATIONS CUP FINALS
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Brazil, Confederations Cup, Spain, Style, US Soccer, Youth Soccer on June 30th, 2009
With its run to the Confederations Cup final the U.S. national team has inched closer to shedding its liminal status – between soccer nobody and soccer somebody. It’s closer to deserving more international respect. It’s also closer to disrupting the sine curve of results that has produced infrequent upsets against superior teams (see 1930, 1950, 1998, 2002), to which we can add Spain, 2009. The tipping point won’t come with one result, and probably won’t come for a while. But the national exposure and enthusiasm that comes with the country’s recent international success undoubtedly works toward expediting a protracted molting process.

The U.S. performance in the Confederations Cup has soccer fans and non-fans in this country buzzing, looking to compare it with the most unlikely upsets in American sporting history. The win over Spain drew comparisons to the “Miracle on Ice” when an amateur U.S. hockey team defeated the U.S.S.R. in 1980. On grass, the U.S. played with similar determination and sacrifice. The team deserved all the heart-pounding adjectives lavished on it by the media. On Sunday, the U.S. continued its attempt to upset the balance of the soccer world, like a buoy jammed underwater. The U.S. almost withstood Brazil. But it didn’t. Brazil’s second-half dominance restored the balance of the global game.
I’m not glad that the U.S. lost. But in a way it might be the right result, the most natural one. Yes, a U.S. win would have further boosted the prominence of soccer in our homeland. But it also might have made us too giddy and too expectant, made the average fan too annoyingly confident in the face of foreign superiority that demands our modesty and respect. I’m not ready for the U.S. to shed its underdog mentality yet. This mentality is unifying and powerful. And I don’t think the nation is ready for anything else.
As many of the more sober analysts have already said, the U.S.’s performance doesn’t mean that the team has “arrived!” or that we can consistently compete and win against the giants of the game. Like Spanish defender Carles Puyol suggested, if the U.S. played Spain ten times, it would lose nine. Probably true. For this reason alone, the U.S. victory over Spain deserves a resounding celebration. It also deserves a re-sounding after the media’s swooning over this team dries up until next year’s World Cup. It’s easy to get carried away. Soccer serves as one of the few sporting arenas where Americans can actually be considered underdogs, where we can still route for the grit and guts of our players instead of for the superiority of factory-produced physiques and skills. This is part of what makes the sport so attractive to me in this country. It’s still raw and unpolished compared to the real article. This is also the problem. Americans aren’t as technically trained or refined as their South American and European counterparts. This is a cruel fact. They lack the suave, the guile, the natural creativity. In short, they lack the style. Despite the U.S. success in the Confederations Cup, its lack of style still represents the team’s most glaring weakness.
The team’s heart and work-ethic might lay the foundation of a larger identity, but this identity is still barely forming. Passion and bravery can take a group far – about as far as a ragged U.S. team pushed in the Confederations Cup. But In an international sport in which every team pours forth with fully stocked wells of passion, it’s the skill-level of players that makes the difference.

Lacking such skill, the U.S. needs to hang on against better teams, to pray for the right opportunities and to pounce on them. For the majority of both the Spain and Brazil games the U.S. defense dug its nails in against a wave of relentless and flowing attacks. In those two games, the U.S. got out-shot 35-12. But it played with a remarkable understanding of its own abilities. It played with intelligent and relentless defensive pressure, with measured and swift counter-attacks that punished the best teams in the world for their over-aggressiveness. Such a backs-against-the-wall survivalist mentality might force other nations to give more respect to our bite, but it won’t necessarily give us the self-belief or self-evident expression needed to carve out space on the stage of world soccer powers.
Landon Donovan summed up a lot of this in typically political fashion in comparing an emerging U.S. team to an established Brazilian one after the U.S. loss: “We’ve got the potential to be at that level. The difference is, Brazil has been there before. A lot of their players have been in games like this, and they knew how to finish it and how to win. We still have to learn that. We have a lot of guys on our team who haven’t played a lot of national team games, haven’t played a lot of high-level club games, that were starting. You can tell there’s a difference there.”
“Look, it’s Brazil,” Donovan said. “You have to expect they’re going to get chances. They’re going to keep coming. What are you going to do? They have players that are probably worth three times as much as our whole team. There’s a reason for that.”
The American players are coming, slowly. Soccer in this country is growing, in fits and starts, only some of which we can measure. Most importantly, it continues to grow at the grassroots level, as passion for the global game fills the fissures of America’s fractured sports landscape. Participation in youth soccer continues to swell. Immigrant blood continues to boost passion for the sport while eroding the sport’s stubborn stigma as white and suburban. The sport reflects glimpses of this growth at its frothing head, measured by the commercial interest and TV ratings it attracts.
As the late great Brit-American journalist Steven Wells said it in a recent interview with Richard Whittall on EPL talk: “I’d even go as far as to say that the day that soccer really succeeds in the US isn’t when the US wins the World Cup, it’s when it becomes the default sport in the nation’s playgrounds. Which—in Darwinian terms—it really should, being far better suited to that arena (and way more fun as well as being better exercise) than all the alternatives. Way to go yet though…”
I agree with Wells. I just suspect, or at least hope, that the two measurements of success that he suggests will coincide.◊
WHAT? THE U.S. EMERGES OUT OF GROUP OF WORLD CUP CLASS
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Bob Bradley, Brazil, Confederations Cup, Hejduk, Style, US Soccer on June 22nd, 2009
No Heart? I’m All Heart Mother…
*As the U.S. National Team attempts to qualify for the World Cup in 2010, I will write a series of pieces concentrating on the style, or lack of it, of American soccer. See the other three here and here and here.
Lucky? Yeah. Holy shit, yeah. The U.S. got a waist-high boost from Brazil’s 3-0 thrashing of Italy to advance to the semifinal round of the Confederations Cup. But after the grit and determination it showed on Sunday, the team deserves some apologies, some reconsideration.
Before Sunday, most critics wrote the team off as over-classed and under-talented when compared with any good international team. Maybe this is true. But for me watching the U.S. was more disillusioning than revealing. Following the Brazil game, it looked like the tournament was a lost cause, both in determining a more consistent lineup and in spurring any team or individual confidence. While the U.S. showed that it could frustrate good teams, at least for spells, it looked incapable of producing anything like a functional attack. In one of the more hopeless throes of fandom in recent memory, I just hoped for a few linked passes – a shot on goal.

After Sunday’s performance against Egypt, we can all take a breath from the thick criticism and humming African air. When it needs to, when it has all eleven players on the field at once, the U.S. can attack. As Paul Gardner said in his pro-attacking reaction to the game: “The straightforward lust for goals is something new for this team, a Bob Bradley team. The usual caution had to be abandoned, and many a risk had to be taken.” Risk produced goals.
In addition to risk, the U.S. showed some of the characteristics that have been most persistent and true to the team’s identity over the years – namely perseverance and energy and grit – all of which the U.S. left behind inexplicably in its first two games. These are some of the principles on which the good ole U.S.A was founded, or so I’ve heard. And in the sports realm they are obvious and unifying. In large part, they represent one reason why I like watching the U.S. play. Usually I know that whichever team the U.S. plays, it will play that opponent hard – maybe too hard – with so much feist and defensive spirit that its opponent won’t have the time or space to work any of its exotic magic. At its best, the U.S. energy creates a different game, one that must be played a faster-than-normal pace, which forces its opponent to raise the magic of its game to a higher level if it is to succeed.
At the very least, this is the legacy of U.S. players like Frankie Hejduk. While he might not be as talented as anyone he lines up against on the wing, he will grind them into the lime of the sidelines with his energy. And in his absence, I hope we can have more talented U.S. defenders play with half his spirit.
Although characteristics like energy and perseverance don’t always win games at the highest level, they don’t lose them either. And as the U.S. proved against Egypt, such characteristics can be as invaluable on attack as on defense. For example, Charlie Davies produced the game’s first goal with more grit than talent. And his effort was emblematic of the U.S. style as a whole. Although it lacked guile, it had a straightforward urgency and speed that necessarily put Egypt under pressure. The other two goals came from purposeful offensive surges. Although hardly flowing or dazzling, they came from clean and efficient attacks that put Egypt at the mercy of American strengths – speed and power.
It was also encouraging to see the personalities of American stars come through their shells in this game. Oguchi Onweyu dominated the air and the box. Landon Donovan attacked with tireless pace and pointed guile. And Michael Bradley put in another performance that worked towards cementing his place in the center of the midfield. A refreshing American talent, he is as gritty as he is technical. The second goal, a quick and precise combination with Donovan that ended with Bradley tucking a sliding pass into the corner of the goal, presented these attributes in one fluid play.

Lastly, Clint Dempsey. For all his too-cool-for-school-and-defense attitude, he often appeared the most creative player in white, unlocking Egypt with a few incisive passes in the first half. And after all the criticism Dempsey endured from commentator John Harkes, some of which was deserved but much of which got comically egregious in the second half as Harkes vented biases about individual players instead of watching the game, Dempsey won the game for the U.S.. His snapping header in traffic displayed exactly the leftover determination that Harkes criticized him for lacking. It left Harkes and all the other critics struggling to capture their surprise and the improbability of the result, to revise the harshness of their reactions to the first two games.
The critics, however (including myself) weren’t necessarily wrong. This is only one win. Many questions about players and tactics persist.
But this game served to remind the critics, and the team itself, that grit or passion (or whatever other cliche you want to use) represents the one fundamental trait that the team needs to survive. All the team’s best players have it. Some could use more of it. It can serve as a baseline from which everything good springs.
Maybe all good teams need such a baseline. But somehow effort seems more crucial to the U.S., maybe because we have little else to rely on. It’s sewn into the fabric of American sports lore. It’s “Miracle” and “Rocky.” It’s a lot of elbow-grease, or maybe knee-grease in soccer’s case, and it’s lung-bursting sprints after the ball. Of course we crave flare and fluidity, more touch and guile, but as long as we have effort we know that other teams will still fear and respect us. And this is crucial to forging any sort of meaningful identity.
As Micheal Bradley said after the game:
“All the f—— experts in America, everybody who thinks they know about soccer, they can all look at the score tonight and let’s see what they have to say now. Nobody has any respect for what we do, for what goes on on the inside, so let them all talk now.” ◊

THE EVOLUTION OF STYLE (PART I): FUNDAMENTALS
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in BLOGADINHO, Brazil, Messi, Paul Gardner, Style, US Soccer, World Cup, globalization on March 12th, 2009
Part One of a Series on Style in American Soccer
*As the U.S. National Team attempts to qualify for the World Cup in 2010, I will write a series of pieces concentrating on the style, or lack of it, of American soccer.
As far as I can tell we’ve been “developing” a style in American soccer for the last century. Our attempts to produce one have hinged on lame imitations of successful international styles, namely European ones.
This once made a certain amount of sense. You learn from successes, from those who know better than you. So since the sixties we have flooded our coaching marketplace with Brits. Apparently they won a World Cup. And they sound like they know what they’re talking about even if they don’t. Since the seventies, we’ve bought into Dutch methodologies like weight loss pills for our dense soccer genes. In the nineties, after soccer became one of the most widely played youth sports in the nation, our youth soccer organizations continued to look to Europe (Eastern, Northern and Western), to those anglicized countries that spoke our language, for coaches and advice.

As Jay Martin notes in a 2000 NSCAA article entitled, “The Emerging American Style,” the aspects of these stylistic fads “became an end instead of a means to an end.”
Over the last decade or so, we have latched onto a new and much more executable fad, which is actually more of an ethos than a fad. We are finally starting to promote the simple and largely Latino sensibility of giving the game back to the players. Organizations like USSF and USYSA, for example, praise the value of small-sided-games that approximate the fluid street soccer environments so integral to the magic of the South American game. Letting players learn and think for themselves has become a more important goal in this country than ever before.
If American organizations, camps, and academies are practicing what they preach is another issue. Because so many coaches and governing bodies validate the money they make by selling their knowledge as erudite, I’m skeptical that we can ever truly give the game to the players in this country. But we are on the right track, however slowly and hypocritically we get there. And I hope we don’t bag this movement before it truly takes hold.
Does American Style Exist?

Although the word style can smell like gelled hair and expensive threads, it is not a material trait. For it to be real, it cannot simply be adopted. It comes from within and without, from the collision of instinct and environment, nature and nurture. We know this. We know that a nation’s soccer style has its roots in that country’s cultural and social fabric. Brazilians play with the flare that lives in samba. Germans play with lethal efficiency and technique. Italians play with a heart-rendering deceptiveness. Americans play with … Freedom?
There have been rudimentary studies on the defining characteristics of the model American soccer player. The ones Jay Martin gives from an “unscientific survey” are as follows: Athletic Ability, Attitude, Work Rate and Coachability.
These are all well and good, but what the hell do they really mean? These characteristics describe the valuable traits of American athletes in general, particularly American football players. And one could easily argue that these characteristics represent the problems with American soccer. They lead me to imagine the paradigm American player as a 6’2, 200 pound brute, who can run the 100 in 10 seconds flat, really freakin wants to freakin win, and does whatever the coach tells him. “Tackle harder. Fuck yeah!”
Sometimes I fear that the values our culture ingrains in American athletes dooms us in the one true world sport; that our culture pumps out athletes so good at following directions that they can’t think for themselves; that we value athletic physique and explosive ability much more than subtler traits like guile, deftness, and flare that we forget to develop the later; that our sporting culture favors condition over instinct – order and repetition over imagination and creativity. I fear that our culture makes it too easy for us to forget about the different, subtle type of athlete that soccer requires. As Paul Gardner succinctly points out: “Ask yourself if Maradona or Pele or Beckenbauer or Cruyff would have made their high school basketball or football teams. Too small, all of them. Not among the best ‘athletes.’” The same can still be said for most of the best players in the world today: Messi, Robinho, Ronaldinho. Some might eclipse the six-foot mark (Gerrard, Ronaldo, Kaka and Ibrahimovic), but none would qualify as “athletic” by any American definition of the word. Instead, they all play with unique styles, as unorthodox as they are beautiful.
Does our sporting culture doom soccer or can we use our supposed athletic values as a baseline, a springboard, to a style that can compete on the world stage? The optimist in me believes the later.
I think we are finally reaching a moment in the strange and protracted evolution of soccer in this country that requires us to trust our own culture, our own sensibility, to forge unique players and therefore a unique way of playing. This means trusting more than just our athletic values, which should be easy given this country produces freakish athletes in almost every imaginable sport. More fundamentally, we should trust our good old American values – cultural, social, and political. Yes, work ethic, but also thrift and self-sufficiency, toughness and brashness, ingenuity and multiculturalism. These are the elements of our national fabric that I can latch onto, that I see every day, that I brush up against when I take the bus in the morning. And I have faith that these are the elements that will one day lift us out of mediocrity and into the realms of the international elite in the soccer world.
Maybe I’ve been infected by the new president’s optimism for the future. I’m spewing sappy abstractions that have little relevance to a game played on the ground with feet and a ball. I know as well as Obama does that faith is worthless without the elbow-grease involved in execution. But faith comes first.

Of course we need to execute. We need to develop better technical training in our youth systems, to the point in which we blur the line between instinct and memory. How we do this is still unclear. But it seems like we are finally realizing that such results occur with the right balance of nature and nurture, not just the later. Trusting our own nature, letting our players figure out the game for themselves, will let our players imprint their own wills and minds on the rugged slates of international competition.
We are witnessing execution, however slowly it unfolds, in the way the game is developing at the youth and professional levels in this country. And as the American game develops, so too does style.
The U.S. National team, for example, has long made grit and work ethic core elements of its success. Although its convincing 2-0 win over Mexico revealed nothing new, it was also an impressive display of team defense and all around work. The U.S. players didn’t “let them breath,” as Michael Bradley said after the game. The U.S. attacked efficiently and with purpose.
This is the continuance of something good. It is very real. And it has lots of room to grow, even if it doesn’t have a name yet, or maybe especially because it doesn’t have a name yet, or a blueprint to follow.◊

*The second part of this piece will dilate from more abstractions, like the globalization of style in the international game, to more concrete details of the ways the U.S. is trying to improve to compete with the world’s top teams.

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