Posts Tagged Bob Bradley
HARNESSING THE HEAT OF CLOSED-CIRCUITS
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Honduras, Style, US Soccer, World Cup Qualifying on October 13th, 2009
One Fan’s Reaction to Watching U.S.-Honduras Eighties-Style
I watch most U.S. national team games cloistered in my own soccer nerdom, hunched over a computer or slouched at a friend’s house where I can bitch freely about the team’s dry ideas and dire first touch. This is how a lot of us watch games. As a whole, U.S. fans are a nerdy and pessimistic bunch. We pick apart 1-0 wins over Trinidad & Tobago. We fear loud noises and confrontations at bars with Steelers fans over television-space. Saturday’s game against Honduras, however, forced us to come together with an energy and pride that we rarely exhibit.
Because FIFA gives television rights to the host nation of World Cup qualifiers, most Americans could watch the game against Honduras only at a joint willing to purchase Media World’s closed-circuit feed. In my Northern California neck of the woods only a few bars coughed up the bucks. Those older than me tell me that this is how they used to watch boxing matches and old U.S.-Mexico qualifiers. Anyways, I’m pretty sure it was a good gamble for the places that funded the game. I’ve heard conflicting estimates about the cost of the feed (ranging from $1,500 to $3,000), but even if the Irish pub (good old Danny Coyle’s) where I watched the game paid twice this I reckon it made more than enough to fund a few more Guinness posters. Paying $20 a head, U.S. fans packed the place to “capacity”, at easily over 300 people. Considering profits on drink prices, I expect the joint to unveil at least one fresh urinal in the coming months.
Danny Coyle's might hope for some more closed-circuit games
It was an impressive gathering of American soccer die hards. Over 100 late bastards couldn’t even make it inside. So they watched pressed up against the bar’s fogged glass windows. I don’t usually get sappy watching U.S. games, but I couldn’t help it. Here, I felt connected to the vibrating and illusive pulse of the game in this country. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the result, or the way we all watched the same grainy feed that played meaningless replays instead of live scoring opportunities, but we all felt the same simplified emotions. Here, confusing my neighbor’s beer with my own, we tended to agree, rare for fans of any team . We groaned collectively at Conor Casey’s start. We laughed and whooped at Casey’s goals, the first one of which he knocked in with the back of his keg-sized neck. We grunted at U.S. turnovers. We covered our faces before Carlos Pavon sent his 87th minute penalty kick over the bar.
As the clock ticked on, it slowly sank in. This is how much of the rest of the world watches games, not in the intellectual towers we construct for ourselves, but together, in a patriotic bliss that makes us forget our faults. We push under the pool table our sputtering relationships, our bills and our fears. And in our uniquely thick-skinned American way, we expunge our imperial guilt for helping to violate the human rights and economies of whatever third world country we’re playing. We root for our country in a game played on as level terms as our messed up history allows.
I don’t expect to watch a game in this way again. As we move through the 21st century, I imagine that World Cup qualifiers will only get easier to watch in the comfort of our own homes, even if we have to pay for them on an individual basis over the internet. But for once I was thankful for limited cable rights, although I felt bad for all those who missed the game and all the poor souls shivering outside the bar window. But inside we were the beating heart of U.S. soccer, too enraptured by the atmosphere and blunted by booze to think critically. “I’ll never question Bob Bradley again!” I will remember believing this. Pouring out of the bar, we steamed like severed heating pipes into the crisp San Francisco night.
Not that I’d like to watch every game like this. The magic would wear off. But I’d at least like to know that the option is out there. Anyone experience something similar? Horribly different? At the same bar? Where you the guy I accidentally elbowed in the face?◊
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A BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO U.S. SOCCER FANDOM
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Bob Bradley, CONCACAF, US Soccer on September 3rd, 2009
To all those who rode their first wave of U.S. soccer fandom into the hot Mexican dust, welcome! Brush that dirt off your coat. Hang it up. Stay awhile. And chin up for god sakes. It’s not that bad. I’m here to help you through it. There are just a few things you should know so you don’t make rookie blunders like buying an Eddie Johnson jersey or dislexifying Onyewu’s name.
1. As you see, we get to trade hands-behind-our-back gut punches with Mexico. It’s only fair, except we take punches in Mexico with both hands behind our back, and they take punches with only one hand behind theirs. Therefore you should always complain that they hit us with dirtier and louder and more painful shots. Because they do.
2. No matter how easy it seems to qualify for the World Cup, remain skeptical when asked about the U.S.’s prospects of doing so. Play up underrated third world competition: “I dunno, I mean teams without stable governments just have more to play for, you know.” We don’t want too many other continental confederations catching onto the fact that qualification in CONCACAF is structured like those End-of-Camp-Prizes where even the kid who threw a flaming poop pie at another cabin gets an award for his attitude. As much as the U.S. would benefit from a more difficult road to qualification, imagine qualifying once every twelve years, like Ireland or Romania do. Screw that!
3. Whenever we lose or tie you should question Bob Bradley’s lineup decisions. This goes for being a fan of any soccer team, but especially a Bob Bradley team. To do this, simply pick a few players who aren’t Donovan, Dempsey, Onyewu, or Howard, and then ask why Bradley played them. Try it for the Mexico loss. “Man, I don’t understand why he started Clark or DeMerrit or _____ . They’re ok, but they’re just not international quality.”
4. Brian Ching starts because he’s a good “target man”. He’s kind of like an NBA player that sets a really good screen, plays solid defense, and maybe can throw an accurate entry pass. Fundamentals are very very important, especially when trying to compete at the international level. Got it?
5. One way to look like you know what you’re talking about is to say, win or lose, that the U.S. would be better off if it hired a renowned international coach.
6. Also, when watching games with friends, you should say at least once a game that U.S. soccer needs to change its development structure “from the ground up.” You don’t need to provide any details about how to accomplish this. The only evidence you need is that the U.S. never wins any big games and hasn’t produced its own Pele yet. People will be in awe of your deep knowledge of the system’s flaws.
7. Oh, and if you really want to be a true national team fan, you should make sure that you know all the players on the U.S. team but nobody on any other CONCACAF team that we play. Except it’s OK to know that Blanco guy, and that tricky Gio-something-or-other on Mexico, our arch-rivals. But you’re not allowed to know or praise anyone else because then you might look too sympathetic. Refer to these players by number or racial epithet. Anytime a player on some third world team appears one of the best players on the field then it’s obviously a result of the U.S. playing so shitty by comparison. It’s way easier to criticize the U.S. players’ performances than learn and praise new names.
8. You should probably buy a “Soccer Wave” for your kids. These are really handy, because they like totally launch the ball back to you! If you can’t afford one of these revelations then you should settle for those precisely angled nets that bounce the ball back to you in the air. Just don’t let your kids pass the ball against a wall! It’s like, “where do we live? Rio?”
9. Never watch any MLS games. You will mysteriously get dumber about soccer.◊
“AZTECA BLUES”
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in CONCACAF, Landon Donovan, Mexico, US Soccer, World Cup Qualifying on August 14th, 2009
By Landon Donovan
Touch down in Mexico City, this is gonna be a blast
Touch down in the Valley baby, this is gonna be a blast
Out on the open airstrip, breath of dying horse’s ass.
Tour Azteca at dusk now, this place is kinda scary
Tour Azteca’s big shadows, this place is kinda scary
In the slack air of the black top, I hope the hooker’s spare me.
Can’t get any sleep at night, back of my dome is bumpin
Can’t sleep in this air tonight, back of my dome is bumpin
Hotel walls are mighty thin, and hoes above me won’t stop thumpin.
Chorus
Tired and weary but we’re not gonna lose.
Just can’t shake these low down high-headed Azteca Blues.
On the field in the heat of day, sun like a yellow toe nail
On the field in the heat of noon, sun like a yellow toe nail
Crowd so loud and hot now, nobody gonna hear me wail.
Nice turn and Davies is through, how do you say ‘Hola Bitches’?
Nice turn and a Davies goal, how do you say “Hola Bitches’?
That didn’t last too long though, they’re shredding our ‘D’ to stitches.
They say I got some quick feet, but Mexicans might be quicker
They say I got some wheels, but Mexicans might be quicker.
Run after her all day, but the ball won’t let me lick ‘er
Chorus
We’re tied in the first half, but we’re not gonna lose
Just can’t shake these low down lead-footed Azteca Blues.
Bob says we need to keep the ball, but we keep giving it away
Bob says we need possession, but our backs keep giving it away
Might as well give em the match, cause we’ve plattered the fillet.
That goal was always comin, you can’t chase them forever.
That goal was always comin, you can’t chase them forever.
I’d kill to get one back, but my legs like rusty levers.
Now my stomach’s cramped, and my head’s a sweaty glue
Now I got the cramps bad, and my head’s a sweaty glue
I need some serious rest, plus Doc says I got the Swine Flu.
Chorus
Well we lost like I kinda always knew
Just can’t shake these low down snake-eyed Azteca Blues.◊
THE U.S. NATIONAL TEAM: THE ‘MAGIC ELEVEN BALL’
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Bob Bradley, Confederations Cup, US Soccer on June 18th, 2009
How do you rate a team that hasn’t really played so far? Bob Bradley is probably dealing with this himself after two hopeless games against Italy and Brazil. Touted as a tournament that would provide answers to persistent lineup questions for the U.S., the Confederations Cup has provided more of the opposite: questions – some about tactics and most about individuals. I imagine that for Bob Bradley, who hasn’t impressed with his decisions, watching the Confederations Cup has been as unrevealing and unhelpful as shaking a magic eight ball.
Does DeMarcus Beasley deserve another chance after one of worst performances of his career? Looks doubtful.
Will I give him another one if he promises to do better? Outlook good.
Does Sacha Kljestan deserve another chance after a completely ineffective first half and a rash challenge early in the second that saw him sent off and once again put added pressure on the U.S. to defend when that was the last thing the team needed? Maybe.
Ricardo Clarke? Maybe.
Jermaine Jones? No.
Jermaine Jones? Yes.
Why didn’t I play Jose Francisco Torres? Yes. Definitely.
Did Jonathan Bornstein play well enough to cement a place at left back, at least for a few more games? Concentrate, and try again.
Has Clint Dempsey really been bad enough to lose a starting position? My sources say no.
Do other players resent me for playing my son without question? Doubtful.
Is that why they’re not trying anymore? Or is it because they don’t respect me? Or believe in me? We went over this Bob. You can only ask yes or no questions so that I can give you a meaningless answer.
Is Jozy Altidore really the 19-year-old phenom that can solve our striker problems? Nice one. Try again.
Has the U.S been bad enough on the attack to warrant giving other young Americans like Freddy Adu and Robbie Rogers and even Stewart Holden a chance? Bubbles fizzing around. Indicator stuck.
Bradley stares in shock and confusion, pretending like he doesn’t want to break the thing against a wall, like he he’s seen this before, like he knows what the answers and he’s not afraid.
Alright, enough, before I get sick. What does this U.S. team look like when it plays well? Aside from solid spells against Mexico in the first qualifying leg, I have no freakin idea.
USA VS ITALY: SO PREDICTABLY PAINFUL IT DIDN’T HURT
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Bob Bradley, Confederations Cup, Italy, Style, US Soccer on June 16th, 2009
Part Three of a Series on American Style
*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 two here and here.
Watching the U.S. play Italy in the Confederations Cup made glaring all the differences we already knew existed between the two teams. Where Italian touches were deft and calm, the Americans’ were heavy and hurried. The U.S. booted the ball out of the back to nobody. It coughed the ball up in midfield. It couldn’t hold it on attack for long enough to get any meaningful numbers going forward.
Italy is style incarnate. Describing the nature of this style seems redundant because it plays with a style so pure that it’s self-evident. It’s obsidian glass, as natural and clear as it is mysterious, as delicate as it is lethal when sharpened.
Andrea Pirlo gave a snapshot of Italy’s class when he created its third and final goal. A pirouette along the sideline eluded Jay DeMerit before Pirlo glided to the endline and floated a left-footed chip over the American defense to an onrushing Guiseppe Rossi, who spiked the ball into the net.
The U.S. showed flashes of its ability, making a few penetrating counterattacks while frustrating Italy with defensive pressure when the two teams played with equal men. And it had a good excuse for playing defensively after losing Ricardo Clarke to a red card. But too much of the team’s play seemed forced and desperate, squirming underneath the approaching shadow of Italy’s refined point. For fans of U.S. soccer, all of this is expected. We swallow it like we do our morning medications, out of habit and necessity. What else can we do?
The U.S. is a “build-it-yourself” rocket dad ordered for us when we were eight. Despite what we imagine, the parts don’t have the right hinges and bends to fit together like they do in the pamphlet. We have too many of one screw, not enough of another. Plastic snaps under pressure. Still, we hold out hope that this rocket will fly before the summer’s out, no matter how many replacement parts we need to order and how much duct tape we need. It’d better, goddammit. But when? How? How much can we guard our hope before it crumbles along with our expectations?
What’s getting better – not just with the current crop of American players but in the last twenty years? We can attribute much of the team’s stagnation to Bob Bradley’s experimenting with personnel and tactics. He’s still looking for the right mixture. This takes time to sort out; there are lots of combinations to try. But I’m starting to worry that the team is too volatile, with too many question marks and too much repair required, for it to turn into anything solid and functional a year from now.
Meantime, the South African vuvuzelas make the stadiums sound fuller than they really are. They create a hum like a giant hornet’s nest, the gathering pressure of frustration and nervousness and fear. These are the last motivators that the U.S. team needs, the last emotions that create a useful and powerful style. But the team is right in the middle of it. What is it made of?◊
STYLE ON THE ROAD
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Bob Bradley, CONCACAF, Hejduk, Music, Style, US Soccer, World Cup on March 31st, 2009
Part Two 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.
I watched the U.S.A vs. El Salvador qualifying match at a trucker bar seventy miles North of Los Angeles. Called Rusty’s or Rocky’s, it was the type of place that moved in blissful ignorance of the world around it. A family and a few burly men watched a Monster Truck Jam, playing on every TV in the place, with the same rapture that they licked barbeque sauce off their fingers.
“Aw man. One wheel! … Aw shit. That guy just won’t flip. Don’t matter.”
All this while one of the best games of the NCAA Elite Eight, Pittsburgh vs. Villanova, was coming down to the wire. No one in there cared. This was comforting in a way. Mainstream sports news had as little bearing as any other news. “Don’t Stop Believing” blared over crunching cars. I asked the bartender to switch one of the TV’s to the soccer game, but not to worry about turning on the sound because one of the two burly guys was carrying a pretty good tune a few octaves below Steve Perry, and I didn’t want to throw him off.
So I watched the game to a familiar Classic Rock soundtrack. The two burly guys took turns picking tunes on the jukebox. The one with longer hair and rougher hands actually made some pretty good selections: A lot of Rolling Stones, Credence, Yes …
Quintanilla buries a stunning goal into the bottom corner.
I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
El Salvadorian fans bear their teeth and yell through a rocking fence.
The other burly guy, rounder and redder, picked a lot of glam rock and metal: Bowie, Poison, Guns n’ Roses. The soundtrack proved as predictable as any in any bar anywhere in America. But it was still an enjoyable way to watch the game. Instead of listening to Harkes wail on about all the mistakes the U.S. had to correct in the second half, I got Welcome to the Jungle!
It all got me thinking, could the U.S. National Team have a soundtrack, or a sound? Different games create different rhythms, but the instruments and spirit remain the same. I’m pretty sure Bill Simmons has proposed a similar game based on comparisons between sports teams and rock groups.
But by the time the first half ended, I didn’t think the U.S. had earned comparison to any of the bands that had played. Maybe Poison, I thought, for their predictable and straightforward songs. But even Poison has an underrated versatility, dipping into darker ballads and crunching through poppy rockers. And they play with such clear and piercing purpose that I thought the comparison would be doing them a disservice.
The U.S. didn’t play like Poison in the first half. Poison would have scored. The U.S. played scared, disjointed, devoid of ideas. Maybe like a late version of The Police, on the verge of breaking up.
More accurately, the band comparison didn’t work. Not just because I couldn’t describe the U.S. playing style with adjectives that would fit a good band, but mostly because the U.S. failed to impose its will, or its style, on the game at all, until about the 70th minute. At that point they started to possess the ball around the El Salvadorian 18-yard box. They played with more purpose, opening up the wings, and trying to combine their way to more shots on goal.
But for the majority of the game the U.S. were a will-less, punch-less group against one of the lower-rated teams in CONCACAF.
Yes, the U.S. showed their typical grit and determination to get back into the game. And they probably would have won if given ten more minutes. Also, El Salvador should be given credit for playing with so much determination, for surprising the American players with their speed and guile after so much talk about how they didn’t stand a chance.
Why does the U.S. so often fail to impose its will on weaker teams, especially away?
Many pundits have blamed Bradley.
Jamie Trecker writes in his blog on FoxSoccer.com: “You cannot blame [Bradley] for not being able to teach top-level tactics — because the guy clearly doesn’t know any. How would you, if the great majority of your time was spent in MLS? No slight on MLS or Bradley, but it’s unreasonable to expect someone to succeed when they don’t have the tools to do so … What the Americans need to progress is not a coach that ‘understands the American player,’ but a coach that understands what a team needs to do to succeed at the international level.”
I guess it would be nice to have an internationally qualified coach. But to blame Bradley for the performance against El Salvador seems short-sited and wrong.
I can’t come up with an apt musical comparison for the national team yet, but I do know that playing good soccer works via many of the same principles as making good music. To make good music takes talented musicians playing together, hitting the right notes at the right times. It takes individual creativity, and united purpose.
The coach can share some of the blame for any failure. Maybe he gave misguiding direction. Maybe he chose the wrong personnel. But simply blaming Bradley blinds us to the deeper problems of player talent and development in this country. Both suffer. And both hurt us, immensely.
But both are getting better. The players are out there, in the Los Angeles parks and the Mid-western suburbs. We simply need to find them and nurture their talents the right way.
I dream of the day when we can field a team of players that have personalities as rich and diverse as all our musical talents have. When we have players that spring from our many landscapes as organically as Blues or jazz or folk music did. When we have a Coltrane at right back. When we have a John Fogerty tying down the central defense. A Nas in central midfield controlling the tempo.
Thinking about my dream American musician lineup (Dylan and Stevie Ray Vaughn at outside midfield, B.B. King in net, Biggie and Miles Davis up front), I realize that we need to make it as easy for our soccer players to express themselves as our musicians.
Then we’ll see style. Then we’ll see willpower. Is this possible?
Then Hejduk scores the game-tying goal with a few minutes left to play. Hejduk, maybe the least talented guy on the field, is all willpower. Arms outstretched and pumping in celebration, hair flying, he’s somehow all style too. Some nineties grunge lead singer. Chris Cornell (Soundgarden)? Jerry Cantrell (Alice in Chains)?
I WISH BOB BRADLEY WASN’T RIGHT
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Managers, US Soccer on October 27th, 2008
*Originally published October 15th, 2008
Against Trinidad and Tobago, the youngsters on the U.S. National Team had a chance to show why they deserve more respect. The game didn’t affect U.S. qualification chances, but meant a lot to the youth on the field. It also meant a lot to all those fans, like myself, who have been waiting for Bob Bradley to wake up and play the much-hyped studs who might impact the next World Cup.
Maurice Edu making possibly his best play of the game.
Unfortunately, the game proved Bradley right up to this point in his decision to bench unseasoned youth in favor of more battle-tested veterans. The U.S. team looked green and shaky against a rugged and unusually organized Trinidad squad.
The U.S. was disorganized in midfield. They got pushed off the ball. They lacked drive on the attack. And they had trouble stringing more than two passes together going forward. That is, they looked pretty much like the regular U.S. team. Except this one lacked the discipline and grit required to pull out a win in a tough environment.
Trinidad’s powerful midfield duo of Dwight Yorke and Russell Latapy made the U.S’s lack of leadership all the more obvious. These two, who boast a combined age of 76, dished out lessons in composure and positive passing.
I hope Maurice Edu, who completed about 10 % of his passes on the night, and Sacha Kljestan, who I can’t remember making a forward pass, took notes. Maybe such lessons will pay off in the future.
Bradley has the difficult job of developing young players and winning at the same time. To win, it is necessary to keep veteran players on the field. But I hope Bradley doesn’t abandon the idea of throwing young players into the fire of meaningful international competition.
Last time I checked, the U.S. doesn’t have any stalwart veterans like Yorke or Latapy. We need our younger players to be our leaders. Besides Donovan and our goalkeepers we have few candidates to choose from. We need to forge them, and fast.
Putting Hejduk in at right back and thinking you’re injecting a cool-headed veteran into the side is laughable. I’m pretty sure my mom has a better first touch than Frankie.
I get it. Hejduk works hard. He gets endline to endline. He’s one of our best on-the-ball defenders. Apparently “He’s one of those great locker room guys,” according to John Harkes. Awesome. He seems like a cool guy who’s really fucking pumped to be in there–maybe a little too pumped.
Hejduk looks more comfortable chugging beer than he does with a ball at his feet
I just don’t want to watch him play National Team soccer any more. Hejduk squandered some of the best U.S. chances in the first half with his remarkable inability to kick the ball. And a typical turnover in the second half led to the counter-attack that produced Latapy’s goal.
Seriously. Can we get Marvelle Wynne a spot?
All of the brightest performers on the night wore red shirts. Carlos Edwards was, for the second game in a row against the U.S., the best player on the pitch. He showed infinite energy, pace, and guile. He got into dangerous spaces and created Latapy’s goal.
GRADING THE U.S. LINE UP:
* Brad Guzan (5). Not steady. He made a save on a dangerous free kick and dealt with a few balls in the air.
* Micahel Orosco (5). He didn’t make any glaring mistakes and read dangerous situations reasonably well. In typical U.S. center-back fashion, he couldn’t find anybody up field and booted balls out of bounds instead.
* Heath Pearce (5). Pearce got involved in the attack, especially in the second half, and showed some steadiness on the ball. He got cut up a few times by Edwards on the wing. But I’m not sure any other U.S. defender could have done better.
* Frankie Hejduk (2). Good hustle. Atrocious everything else.
* Maruice Edu (3). Who the hell was he passing to? Most often it was either nobody or a red shirt. He also failed to recover on Trinidad’s first goal.
* Sacha Kljestan (4). Kept the ball in the middle of the field. But he distributed the ball poorly and showed limited creativity on the attack.
* Freddy Adu (6). Again the most composed player on the ball. He showed flashes of brilliance in the first half, cutting into dangerous spaces and distributing. He disappeared in the second half.
* DeMarcus Beasley (6). Active on the flank. He made some dangerous runs with the ball, but didn’t link up well with other attacking players.
* Jose Altidore (5). Absent for most of the game. He was involved with two bogus offsides calls that would have led to scoring opportunities. He made some promising runs at the Trinidad defense. He also assisted Davies’ goal after a lucky bounce.
* Charlie Davies (7). Lively and dangerous as a sub. An immediate injection of energy and purpose. Scored.
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