Two weeks, six days, and a dozen hours.  That’s approximately how long it’s taken me to regain full function of my bodily fluids since it happened.  It.  The incident.  The magical culmination of individual skill and transcendent  fanfaronade, which can only be described as Ibracadabra.  Watching Zlatan Ibrahimovic dismantle England in their November 14 friendly (Note from the editor: Sweden also played with Zlatan) was one of the finest moments of my lifelong love affair with the beautiful game.  No hyperbole, no joke.

If you’ve followed my manic gibberish at all, you’re well acquainted with my habitual worship at the temple of Zlatan.  He’s never played for my team, nor do I have any meaningful attachment to Swedish football.  But there’s not a player I’d rather cheer for or pay money to see.  His masterful goals, inventive guile, and violent outbursts of attitude are pure entertainment.  Whenever he steps onto the pitch, you don’t know exactly what he’s gonna do, but boy, does he always do it.  Just as likely to backheel a late winner as he is to kick his own teammate in the head, Zlatan is a throwback to flawed geniuses like Gazza or Maradona.  If he wasn’t so polarizing, would we watch?  Would everybody have an opinion about Ibra as they do?

No, we watch Zlatan because he makes us feel.  Something; anything.  Joy, jealousy, contempt — it doesn’t matter.  You can’t watch him ply his trade and not be moved.  That’s why I revel in Zlatan.  Just as we want to see Messi shatter scoring records and see England win a World Cup, we just want to see Zlatan.  Period.  We want to embrace the inevitable causality of his displays while we can, because they are the images that we remember when our hair becomes as white as Alan Pardew‘s.

You will never forget where you were when this happened:

Scoring a serious contender for greatest goal of all time, Zlatan shoved the proverbial cherry right atop his sweet sundae of stunning strikes.  Perching it on the shoulders of an already commendable hat-trick against his biggest critics, the English, was near sublime.  What a moment in a career fashioned by so many instances of the outlandish.  As Zlatan has aged, he has never ceased in finding new ways to simultaneously score and entertain.  In honor of his latest triumph, I hereby declare this a celebration.  But not just any celebration, a Madonna Celebration.

What I imagine must have fathered Ibra

For those who don’t know, Celebration was the apropos title of Madonna’s 2009 compilation album.  It’s a double-disc effort containing 36 tracks that span an awesome catalog of sugary hit-making.  But it’s more than that.  Celebration travels through space and time to remind your ears that pop music is not a crime, nor is it capable of stasis.  What The Immaculate Collection is to a greatest hits album, Celebration is to the actual birth of Mary, mother of Jesus.  (And possible Zlatan?).

And so, it is only natural that two miracles of epic proportions deserve each other.  Zlatan Ibrahimovic and the best of Madonna.  With the following list, I have loosely ranked Zlatan’s Top Ten Goals, and paired each with an appropriate hit from the Madonna anthology.  (I know, it’s hard being this awesome sometimes).  Obviously, his latest masterpiece against England supersedes the list, as even her Madgesty might struggle to produce a song worthy of THAT goal.  Two quick notes — 1) I’ve linked the song titles to the corresponding music videos for your pleasure 2) making selections from IbraDonna is like picking your favorite child; unless you have a redheaded step-child it is EXTREMELY difficult cutting some worthy contenders.  Which goals / Madonna tunes do you think I’ve hastily (and obviously) omitted?

*****

10. Barcelona v Real Madrid, 2009 La Liga

Like a Prayer. –  Have you ever dated someone that you know is totally wrong for you, but you stick around because of those fleeting moments of beauty between you?  So went the Ibrahimovic experiment at Barcelona.  After the rise and fall of Ronaldinho, the Catalan club always belonged to Leo Messi.  His precious.  And rightfully so, as he just might be the greatest ever.  So perhaps it is no surprise that moving him out of his favored position to play Zlatan would never, ever work in the long term.  Because, as we know about Ibra, to be effective he must have a stronger gravitational pull than Jupiter in whatever side he plays in.  Top Dog.  Numero Uno.  And to his credit, up until December, Zlatan outplayed Messi in his own Barcelona team.  When the Swede got injured, Messi returned to his preferred role and the rest was history.  But that doesn’t mean that there weren’t moments when everything felt oh so right.

As a song, “Like a Prayer” might be Madonna’s finest.  The cherubic choral backing, the bewitching lyrics, the pathos in Madonna’s own vocals; they all weave together in an awesome tapestry of pop.  It’s just a beautiful song, if you can enjoy it as such.  But can anybody think of the song without the accompanying controversial video?  It paraded blasphemy near Westboro Baptist levels (take your pick from sexual attraction to Jesus to burning crosses to Madonna attending church in barely more than her bra), police prejudice, a pleasant scene of attempted gang rape, and pretty stereotypical token black people.  But if you can block all that out for just a moment, you will experience an ecstasy akin to watching Ibra’s take against Madrid.  His first Clasico, with all the world watching, Zlatan sidefoot volleys with his “weaker” foot into the top corner with the type power usually reserved for high caliber rifles.  Everything else about Ibra at Barcelona may have been wrong, but for only a second his remarkable grace turned atheists into believers.

9. AC Milan v Lecce, 2011 Serie A

La Isla Bonita. –  I struggled mightily to find an appropriate song for this long range strike.  So, I cycled through a few of the classics as I watched and re-watched the goal.  When the video for “La Isla Bonita” finally synched up, the parallels were alarmingly striking.  Check these out.  Both Zlatan and Madonna sport white and red uh, costumes.  Both feature a supporting cast composed primarily of Latin men.  Both feature a grumpy Italian man frowning in a stadium (okay, I guess that was just for the Lecce goal).  And both end with an impassioned group celebration.  But there’s still a deeper connection.  In the music video, Madonna plays a pious simpleton who fantasizes of another life as a sultry Latina princess.  A good girl yearning to be free of the shackles of her culture’s austerity.  This duality of character is encapsulated magnificently in the Zlatan goal.  I don’t know what you’d call it, because it’s a pacey blast from distance, but it also seems to float in the air ever so softly before glancing into the side netting.  There are plenty of Ibra goals that showcase the different facets to his game, but never have I seen a goal that manages to exhibit both power and delicacy at the same time.  Much like the rhythmic, nay, hypnotic beat of “La Isla Bonita,” the goalkeeper appears frozen in a different dimension, a daydream, as he flaps helplessly at the ball drifting by like a brisk tropical breeze.

8. Sweden v France, EURO 2012

Music. –  Remember me?  That’s what Zlatan seemed to be saying to perennial Seria A defender Philippe Mexes as he treated the Frenchman like a dummy, volleying a superb strike for Sweden in EURO 2012.  Mexes was always relegated to the position of Lucky Pierre between Ibra and the back of the net, the inevitable conclusion of Zlatan meeting ball.  It was a game that meant nothing for Sweden, as they were already eliminated from the tournament, save for the matter of pride.  National pride, sure, but also on a personal level for Mr. Ibrahimovic.  In a world of ruthless finishers, Ronaldos and Messis alike, some started to note the decline of our vaudevillian Swedish striker.  Scoring statistics of quantity, rather than quality, had grown more fashionable to the community of footballing elites.  So there was an undeniably retro aura as Zlatan bagged this stunner.  Timing his run into the box perfectly, having the patience to wait for the cross to drift down, followed by acrobatically firing a volley into the far corner.  A typical howdidhedothat effort from the Swede, like so many he has spoiled us with over the years.

If Zlatan reinvigorated his status as one of the greats in a single moment, Madonna brought sexy back with her 2000 single “Music.”  See, the ’90s had been a difficult transition for old lady Madge.  At the outset of the decade she was still very much an “It Girl.”  By the millennium, she was 42, a mother with another bun in the oven, and had grown through some weird musical phases that made her music a more suitable soundtrack to soccer moms than promiscuous teens.  “Music” changed all that, by recklessly abandoning an age-appropriate image to reinvent Madonna as a sex object.  The consummate party track, “Music” could perhaps be considered the defining song of the musical year (although the “Thong Song” and “Bye Bye Bye” are also in with great groans shouts).  Lighthearted and electronic, everything about the song was (and still is) fun.  Highlights of the music video include Madonna dressed like a well-funded call girl, Ali G driving her in a limo, a completely necessary strip club scene, and a bizarre karate cartoon sequence.  Actually, those aren’t highlights, that’s pretty much it.  Regardless, we had our old wanton Madonna back!

7. Inter v Atalanta, 2009 Serie A

Express Yourself.  –  There is no comparison between the video for “Express Yourself” and Zlatan’s goal against Atalanta, nor is there a significant similarity in the careers of the two superstars in this particular instance.  The likeness here is purely lyrical.  Listen to the words of Madonna:  “Don’t go for second best baby / Put your love to the test” and later “Second best is never enough.”  Now a little back story to the goal:  this was the final game of the 2008-2009 Serie A season, and Ibrahimovic was currently tied for the top goalscorer in the league.  But Ibra simply refused to come second and he proved himself equal to the challenge.  Sound familiar?  Another lyric: “So if you want it right now, make him show you how / Express what he’s got oh baby ready or not / Express yourself.”  Now watch the goal again.  Everything about it was purely improvisational.  From the trap away from the first defender to the shove on the body of the second (so flagrant) to the unexpected backheel; every single ounce of the effort was down to individual expression by the Swede.  And finally: “You deserve the best in life / So if the time isn’t right then move on.”  Inter had already clinched the title, and for the fans this thrilling comeback win was the icing on the cake for a highly decorated season.  But only known to Zlatan was that it would be his final game, his final goal for the club before moving to Barca that summer.  And what a parting gift it was — giving Inter the very best before moving on.

6. Inter v CSKA Moscow, 2007 Champions League

Into the Groove. –  There comes a point in the career of any superstar when he or she decides to do just whatever he or she wants.   In 1985, Madonna decided she was gonna make a movie.  Most people might be deterred by their utter lack of acting proficiency, but not Madonna.  And so she birthed the horrific Desperately Seeking Susan.  Needing an accompanying song and video, the world got “Into the Groove.”  Of all the eccentric and confident songs recorded in the 1980s, none captured the musical quintessence and faddism of the decade moreso than this track.  “Into the Groove” injected its lucky listeners with a heavy dose of synth bassline and a nightclub vibe; as well as a message of sexual escapism via the dance floor.  The lazy video (basically scenes from the film) bombarded the viewers with wavy highlighted hair, pearl jewelry, messy layers of cut-up clothes,  and no fewer than 483 pieces of superfluous accessories.  On principle, “Into the Groove” should be an abysmal song.  But it’s not.  It’s bloody enjoyable.  You can throw it on any iPod playlist and it wouldn’t be inappropriate or unwelcome.  Give it a try.

Zlatan Ibrahimovic’s Desperately Seeking Susan moment came while playing against CSKA Moscow in the Champions League (see 1:48 in the above video).  Few of Zlatan’s other goals throughout his career quite capture everything to his game as this one.  With his back to goal, he receives a pass, pirouettes away from two defenders, then rips a laser from outside the box.  Not just any bullet, but an outswinging swerver to the top corner.  Dribbling prowess, vision, anticipation, power, technique, and confidence– this goal showcased the entirety of his unique talents.  Ibra pretty much did whatever he wanted short of film a crappy rom-com and shoot a music video.  After scoring, he opens his arms in celebration, not to hug his teammates, but for his teammates, the San Siro, and the world to embrace him for what he is.  In recent years Madonna has called “Into the Groove” a “dorky” song that she “feel[s] retarded singing.”  And there may come a day in the future when Ibra’s goal against Moscow seems silly and outdated, but that day is not today.  No sir.

5. Ajax v AZ Alkmaar, 2004 Eredivisie

Cherish. — By the end of the ’80s, it was safe to say that Madonna had become the type of rebelliously slutty pop icon that all fathers feared their daughters would try to emulate; which, of course, many did.  That makes 1989′s “Cherish” all the more perplexing for a single from the First Lady of Pop.  It’s just so… wholesome!  A cute, doo-wop style melody backs lyrics about puppy love from simpler, more innocent times.  And in the video Madonna takes a rare departure from “whore-chic,” appearing almost younger and more natural than her previous stylings.  Sure, her clothes get a little wet frolicking on the beach, but wait, look at that!  Whales!  A little mermaid!  Gratuitous female bicep flexing!  Honestly, the first time you heard this song, did you even know it was Madonna?  Which is why it’s the perfect match for Zlatan’s bicycle kick against Alkmaar.  Sure, it was the first of many acrobatic efforts for the big Swede, but this was somehow less obscene and bombastic compared to the others in his collection.  It helps that Zlatan was indeed younger (and had hair of exactly the same proportions as Madonna’s in “Cherish”), but that’s not quite it.  See, our boy Ibra has never been one to shortchange himself in the aggression department; more often than not, it is he who employs his physicality to turn defenders into his prey.  But in this goal, he‘s actually being fouled, mugged and tugged to the ground by his defender.  All Zlatan can do is improvise, turning disaster into sheer brilliance.  It’s not often the bad boy can turn into faultless victim, a harlot into the girl next door, but when it does, you should cherish the moment.

4.  Inter v Bologna, 2008 Serie A

Vogue. — The intro to “Vogue” conveys a brief calmness from the outset, then some bass and percussion creep in, perhaps dropping some hint about what’s to come, then boom!  The music is playing and you’re dancing.  How the hell did that even happen?  Well, Zlatan’s goal against Bologna was kinda like that.  Adriano is mindlessly dribbling in the corner as everybody else stands around twiddling their rigatoni, then he whips a hasty cross into the box, and before you can start thinking of how an opportunity might develop Ibra is celebrating.  Backheeling a heavy cross at chest height, near post?  Unheard of, unexplainable.  It’s like someone actually gifting you Frankincense — where are you even supposed to put that hot holy mess?

Zlatan’s over-the-top flamboyance is only rivaled by that of “Vogue.”  The choreography and pageantry reach a surreal level of dizzying heights.  The actual spastic movement of voguing is as ridiculous as Ibra’s audacious display of flexibility.  Even for a dance record, even for Zlatan Ibrahimovic, this is escapism beyond the normal scope of imagination.  Superlative stuff; the type of things “the kids” everywhere want to try at home.  My favorite comparison?  Both videos have serious-looking men in suits that seem unimpressed (like, McKayla Maroney status) by the awesomeness they’re witnessing.  Look at Jose Mourinho standing unemotionally, as if Zlatan just delivered his newspaper.  Strike a pose?

3. Juventus v Benfica, 2005 Friendly

Burning Up. –  It wasn’t her first single nor was it her first number one.  When people list the many hits of Madonna, it’s never one of the first mentions.  But it would be wrong to say her second single, “Burning Up,” isn’t one of Madonna’s most memorable tracks.  Its sound is so distinct, it protrudes like a broken bone from the rest of her collection until it’s impossible to ignore it.  Except there’s nothing broken about this song.  It merely went a place Madonna never dared to venture again.  A hearty serving of electric guitar and visceral lyrics (“But you don’t even know I’m alive / And this pounding in my heart just won’t die”) invokes an edgier quality to “Burning Up.”  The video also dabbled in the politics of power.  For example, Madonna spends a good amount of time writhing around in chains, then gets absolutely trucked by a speeding car during the finale, only to reveal that it was she (rather than her lover) who was driving the deathmobile.  Deep down, I think we have all wanted to see Madonna on the wrong side of a hit and run at some point in our lives.  Fingers crossed.

If you could translate high speed vehicular manslaughter into a goal, it would look something like this Zlatan thunderbolt.  It came pretty early in his career (a la “Burning Up”), and in something of a meaningless preseason friendly.  But what it lacked in importance, it compensated for with nonconformity.  In danger of being typecast as a showpony, a mere jester of footwork and alchemy, Ibrahimovic dusted off his Fender and unleashed the type of riff that would make Hendrix or Seedorf blush.  In front of Ronald Koeman too, his old manager, as if to say, “Oh yeah, I do this now too.  It’s a thing now.”  So maybe it’s arguably atypical of Zlatan’s famous body of work, getting lost in his many dazzling moments of  skilled craftsmanship.  But it remains imprinted in everyone’s memory of Zlatan; an “oh yeah, THAT goal” that cannot be unseen.  And it was an ever so subtle harbinger of the things to come from Zlatan, a fountain of power buried underneath his massive bag of tricks, massive ego, and massive nose.

2. Sweden v Italy, EURO 2004

Like a Virgin. — Too easy.  In the beginning of the iconic video, Madonna gingerly explores Venice as a lion simultaneously stalks the streets (presumably to devour small Italian children).  This blatant imagery coupled with the lyrics (regardless of the unsettling Reservoir Dogs analysis) about feeling a love as if it were the first time — could not be any more applicable to Zlatan’s masterclass in EURO 2004.  An upstart in the Dutch League, Ibra was still an unknown quantity at this point in his career.  Sure, he’d drawn attention with his performances at Ajax, but this was his coming out party.  Sweden desperately needed a late equalizer to leapfrog Italy into pole position for the knockout rounds of the tournament, and Zlatan only goes and delivers a goal that seemed to defy physics.  Then in the summer moves to Italy, no less, and becomes the crown prince of Serie A.  It was his, “Hello, world” moment.  Much in the same way “Like a Virgin” turned a starlet into a superstar, cementing both popularity and a defining style, the backheel dagger for Sweden anointed Zlatan as one of the chosen ones of our game.

1. Ajax v NAC Breda, 2004 Eredivisie

Justify My Love. –  This is it.  We’ve reached the summit.  There is no other goal that encompasses the essence of Zlatan quite like his majestic solo effort against Breda.  Embarrassing opponents, relegating teammates to bystanders, overconfidence, misdirection, ingenuity– it’s all there.  From the time he receives the pass until the ball crosses the line, I count 10 full seconds of Zlatan dribbling (basically the same time as Maradona’s against England), 7 feints, 6 defenders beaten, at least 4 scorned opportunities to pass, and 4,387 Dutch curse words muttered (probably).  This fabulous goal is about his legend and nothing else.  Hardly Zlatan’s most important, this effort’s worth is purely aesthetic, which is what appreciation of Ibrahimovic is all about.  Watching this goal is like watching a savant carve his way through his own imagined backyard match.  Indeed, you get the feeling that Zlatan, and only Zlatan, has previously envisioned this type of masterpiece in his head, and he’s really rediscovering a distant daydream rather than forging a new movement.

The Breda goal is so obscene, so self-indulgent, that there can only be one logical Madonna selection.  No matter how old I get, I’ll never feel old enough to watch the video for “Justify My Love.”  Even reviewing it to write this has left me uncomfortable, borderline scarred.  It was originally banned on MTV, and still should be.  Why?  Well, first let me save you the trouble of listening to the song.  Essentially, Madonna whispers a bunch of words that are supposed to be avant-garde and sexy, with a monotone keyboard melody and a drum machine, mixed with some heavy breathing.  Imagine getting a phone call from a sex pervert who’s also a crappy film school drop out.  It’s something like that, it’s just NOT A SONG.  Madonna didn’t even try to make it musical, she just wanted an excuse to strip down and perpetuate her sexual deviance.  The accompanying video then is as controversial as you’d expect, complete with seduction, androgyny, lingerie, voyeurs, etc.  I’m pretty sure the ancestor of Slender Man is in there too.  Looking at Zlatan’s goal, his silky movement captured in the grainy footage, evokes the same explicit imagery as Madonna’s adult noir.  If the Ibrahimovic goal is soccer-porn, “Justify My Love” is just regular porn.  Or maybe vice versa?

Finally, from the great man himself:  “In 2004, I was at Ajax and Juve were about to sign me. [Rafael] Van der Vaart wasn’t speaking to me because he said I injured him in training on purpose.  I didn’t.  When I entered the pitch for the game against Breda, the Ajax fans whistled me as they supported Van der Vaart. He was injured and could not play.  I did play, scored twice and made four assists.  For one of the goals, I received the ball with 
a defender on my back.  Another tried to challenge me but I kept the ball from both.  Then I turned and saw the goal.  I was going towards the goal dribbling past players – bam, bam, bam – as 
I searched for a moment to shoot.  It did not come so I kept on going past different players.  Then I was past the goalkeeper.  I decided to go backwards to get a better angle to score.  
I went past the same player again.  I used to play with him, but didn’t realise it.  He said to me: ‘Zlatan, I thought we were friends.’  I apologised because 
I didn’t realise it was a former team-mate.  It was my best goal.  Van der Vaart?  His reaction was his problem.  I did not care. The next day I signed for Juve.”

*****

Hope you’ve enjoyed this mystical voyage of Ibracissism.  If you still want more Zlatan, check out this little piece written following his destruction of England.

Stop.  Get off Facebook.

There are people in Argentina dying, you know.  River Plate. the most successful club in the land of Maradona Messi, has been relegated from the top division for this first time in their billion year existence.  I don’t think I’d be guilty of exaggeration if I said the fans weren’t taking it too well.  They’re currently making the Canucks riots look like the sorority pillow fight in Animal House.

There are so many rumors flying around, I don’t know what to believe– death threats to Diego Simeone’s kids, black smoke covering Buenos Aires, television vans toppled, canteens set on fire, invasion of the club museum, fatalities.  Frankly, it’s hard to believe in anything coming from Argentine brass.  The problem of football violence in their country is so systemic, it’s often suggested that the authorities are indeed the worst perpetrators.

I have no inside information, I’m not an ITK (“in the know”), but the current climate surrounding River’s relegation sure seems ripe to me for disaster.  Thugs in club tops, thugs in police uniforms, and anger in abundance.  We can only hope the Monumental is still standing in a couple days, and that we won’t have to wait too long for our next Superclasico.

*****

Han Solo Cup: next Gold Cup trophy?

After that little dose of the heavy stuff, my selling out Saturday and attending the Gold Cup Final doesn’t seem so bad, right?  Right?!  Here’s how I finally reneged on my promise to avoid the Gold Cup.  Got an email from a friend midweek that basically said, “I know you’re boycotting the Gold Cup but I have an extra ticket for the Final, wanna come?”  Me:  “Uh, sure!”  That’s the thing about betraying one’s principles; it doesn’t happen at high noon during the last battle of the last war, it comes on a busy Tuesday while you’re just trying to squeeze in some lunch.  But when your national team is playing a cup final (albeit a solo cup) in your backyard, you go watch.

Before the match I had Mexico to win 2-1.  They had the better squad and had played much more convincingly than the US during the buildup, plus you figure the doping suspensions only added to their desire to shove it to CONCACAF.  But anything goes in these big rivalry games, and overall the US has probably been stronger since the 2002 World Cup knockout round.  And the US was playing at home… or so I thought?

The last time I went to a US-Mexico game was January 19, 1997.  Mexico beat the United States 2-0 in the U.S. Cup and after the match Marcelo Balboa gave me his (un)used cleats.  (Tiny feet, totally lessened my opinion of him as a man).  I don’t remember the atmosphere in the Rose Bowl then, but I wouldn’t have noticed anything off-putting that day anyway– I was rooting for Mexico.

This Saturday I most certainly was not, and I quickly realized supporters of my kind were vastly outnumbered.  My favorite part in The Ten Commandments is after Heston  leads the Israelites through the Red Sea, when Pharaoh’s chariots try to follow only to get completely swallowed up by thunderous waves.  It kinda felt like that, except instead of water it was Mexicans drowning me.  Red, white, and green–lots of green– enveloped me at every step.  Mariachis, Bud Light Cheladas, the whole nueve yards.  Might as well have been playing at the Azteca.

Perhaps the reason I’ve been so anti-Gold Cup is because somehow I saw this coming.  I correctly predicted Bradley’s opening goal (even the header part), the demise of the American left flank with the introduction of Bornstein (sensationally awful), and the Dos Santos nail in the coffin.  Maybe deep down I knew before the Gold Cup that I was in for a climactic conflict of emotion when these two countries would meet.

I wish I could pinpoint the day between 1997 and 2011 when my allegiance switched, but the truth is it was never so black and white.  As a Mexican American, I always want both teams to do well.  I get up early/stay up late to watch their big games, feel the same pain when each country is knocked out of the World Cup, and celebrate all their goals as if they were my own.  So who am I to back when Mexico and the US go head-to-head?

Balboa Mullet: another litmus test for Americanness

The prevailing attitude for all hyphenated Americans (no pejorative connotation intended) is to root for their country of descent over the United States.  It’s not just Mexican Americans, but Italian Americans, Irish Americans and so on.  It’s been this way as long as I can remember.  I guess as a youngster I just always unknowingly rolled with that tide, but I can’t speak for the majority.  Maybe it’s the romantic notion of diaspora that causes people to forsake the US; maybe it’s a cultural identity thing; maybe it’s perceived as being more cosmopolitan to root for a foreign country; or maybe it’s simply because the US has traditionally been weaker than most countries of emigration and people just want to support a front-running team (arguably, and ironically, a very “American” approach to sporting allegiances).

But that don’t make it right.  As I sat surrounded by 90,000 Mexico fans Saturday, my first thought was good on them for at least putting on for their country.  Then I realized their massive outnumbering of the US fans was no coincidence– these people in green are American like me.  And at some point after Balboa handed me his stinky boots, I came to believe that whatever your descent, if you’re Something American, it’s your duty to get behind the United States.  Because that’s the thing with this country–we’re all Something Americans.  Those (nonexistent) hyphens are what unite us and make us distinctly, yep, American.  Here, I’ve even put together a little checklist in case you’re still in doubt of your Americanness:

• Born in the United States.
• Speak/understand/read/write English greater than or equal to any other language.
• Lived the majority of your life in the US.
• Rely upon American school systems.
• Vote in the US.
• Watch Seinfeld and/or Friends.
• Support the US during the Olympics.
• Happily accept a tax refund from the IRS.
• Know the words to the Pledge of Allegiance and the Star Spangled Banner.

If any two of the above statements apply to you, you’re pulling for the United States, dude.  Actually, screw it.  We can solve this whole immigration issue in one fell swoop.  Just give citizenship to anyone who will root for US Soccer ahead of their parent country’s team.  (They have to like it, too).  Litmus test sorted, American fanbase sorted.  The next World Cup we host?  We win.

*****

The Man of the Match performance of Dos Santos prompted a swift email from Ravi.  “What is it about Gio?  He looks good at major tournaments but never seems to be able force his way into club reckoning.”  Indeed, the Dos Santos case has been a baffling one.  How can a perennial starter for El Tri struggle so much to hold down a place at a decent European club?  I’ve mulled this Rubik’s Cube over for hours in my head, and I never get anywhere (just like an actual Rubik’s Cube).  So instead of trying to figure it out, I’ve decided to field my first XI of players that are impressive at the international level but tepid for their clubs.

*A special mention should go to Freddy Adu, who proved me wrong and played like a Hezbollah rocket in the Gold Cup Final.  He may force his way into this team if he continues to perform like that for the United States.

Kingson

Ferreira   Heitinga   Seitaridis   Salcido

Podolski   Kallstrom   Gourcuff   Dos Santos

Mutu   Baros

Anyone else you’d like to see in there?

*****

The transfer rumors are flying high.  Downing and Adam looking the most likely to Liverpool.  If they both come and Meireles and Aquilani leave, my next post will be titled “The Madness of King Kenny.”  Talk about a leap of faith into British arms.

Arsenal apparently in for Juan Mata?  Wenger doesn’t have the cash for a bidding war, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try to screw a rival into paying over the odds.  Once Fabregas deserts him, Wenger will officially be the most bitter man in football.

Andre Villas-Boas is the new Chelsea manager.  No matter how hard he tries to convince us he’s not Jose Mourinho, he’s sure emulating the Special One pretty well.  Personally, I think it’s a bad move for him.  That Chelsea squad is becoming a retirement home and eventually Abramovich will clamp his purse shut.  Great move for Chelsea though, they got themselves a top manager.

Hearts are becoming like the French team at the 2010 World Cup.  Double you tea eff, Hearts.

Every picture I see Andy Carroll in, he’s boozing it up.  Same for Rooney.  And we’re all totally cool with this?  Somehow, I was less offended when I saw Zidane lighting up cigarettes in his heyday.  Now that I think about it, it was pretty cool.  If big tobacco instantly wanted to have 90% of the world puffing away right now, they’d invest all their marketing dollars in ads of Zizou with his cig in his lip.  He’s like a Jacobean Clint Eastwood with that thing in there.

I ordered a North Korean flag the other day, but much to my disappointment it didn’t arrive in time for the Gold Cup Final.  Thinking about making that my thing– hauling a North Korean flag to every sporting event I go to.  I might even spray paint “Kim Jong-illmatic” on there like the English do to their St. George’s Crosses.  Loved all the North Korean drama at the World Cup.  Double love all the myths about their fearless leader.  Secretly, I like to believe some of them are true.  It’s like Santa Claus for adults.  Keep your eyes peeled for me on Sportscenter…

Man United all set to sign David De Gea from Atletico.  Proficient shot stopper, but suspect in his positioning.  £18 million reportedly the price, eh?  Fergie’s claims that United had empty pockets were as laughable  as the scene in Notorious when we’re supposed to believe Biggie’s mom thinks the plate of cocaine she finds under his bed is just “nasty, dried-up old mashed potatoes!”

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Finally, check this out.  It’s an awesome documentary a friend of mine in college made about the Tanzanian women’s team.  For more info visit twigastars.com.

Though I appreciate Seve’s attempt to win me over by choosing a goal from my glorious AS Roma, I’m not a teenage girl that is so easily swayed. I do, however, agree on his three criteria that need to be satisfied for any of the presented goals to be considered the greatest.

While I thought about posting Gerrard’s header from the Liverpool-Milan 2005 Champions League Final due to its significance and sheer power from the top of the box or even Kaka’s superb individual goal against Manchester United in the first leg of the 2007 Champion’s League Quarterfinal match, I realized that they paled in comparison on all three counts to this goal:

I chose this goal (not just  because I’m Italian), but because it satisfies all three criteria with flying colors. First, the commentary from Fabio Caressa is classic with the yelling repetition of “Goal di Gross” and “siamo sopra e manca un minuto (we’re up and a minute remains!)”. Second, the goal is blasted in from a difficult angle that curls perfectly into the side netting. Though this doesn’t seem to compare to some of the other strikes we’ve seen, I can bet that given 100 tries most of us couldn’t reproduce it.

Finally, the significance of the goal should be obvious — a World Cup semifinal, in the 2nd period of overtime with only two minutes remaining, in an absolutely fantastic game where the future would have held a penalty kick shootout that Italy (at the time) had never won and Germany had never lost. Add to this the huge rivalry between the two teams including the fact that Germany had never lost in that particular stadium and, at the same time, Germany had never beaten Italy in World Cup play.

Instant classic.

Laugh, cry, whatever.  The future of diving has arrived.

Ring a ding ding!  We have a new contender for “Worst Miss Ever,” albeit a different take from the usual open net scuffers.  Sign him up, Roy.  He’ll fit right in…

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On an unrelated, but totally thematically-related note:  is it any coincidence that yesterday as a David Beckham move to Tottenham seemed imminent, they lose a Premier League game for the first time since November 6?  Talk about your all time backfires.

Since leaving Manchester United in 2003, Becks has played for Real Madrid, LA Galaxy, AC Milan, and (of course) England.  Here’s everything he’s won in that time– one La Liga title (2006-2007).  That’s it.  It’s like the guy has become allergic to winning since Fergie kicked him in his head.  If he goes to Spurs, I’d bet my pony on them finishing outside of the top four.

…Sign him up, Roy.

Tags: Beckham, Miss, Tottenham

Who says number 2 is so bad?  Check out the Dutch WC team ‘celebrating’ their appearance in the Final.  Van Marwijk ought to take a cue from his compatriot Van Gaal in Partying 101.

You didn’t think Kim Jong-il would take the demise of North Korea’s World Cup so lightly, did you?  Of course he didn’t.  Holding a public forum to shame the team and forcing the coach into hard labor seems about par for the course.

I can’t help but think it happened just like this:

Don’t let the critics get you down on World Cup 2010– it definitely had its share of memorable moments.  A plethora, some might say.  Instances that made you tear up, cringe, bust a gut with laughter, leap out of your chair to low-five strangers (I’m bringing it back), or simply scratch your noodle.    Here are MY favorite of those moments.

NOTE:  I’ve omitted any actual goals since they’ll get their own “Best 10″ list.  So calm down Americans, New Zealanders, and Gio Van Bronckhorst.  Also, I can’t believe Maradona didn’t end up anywhere on this list, but if reports are to be believed maybe we’ll get another chance in 2014.  Fingers crossed.

You’ll find the list after the jump.  What were your favorite moments from the World Cup?

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I desperately wanted to write “France” and be done with it, but that would be too easy.  In fact, the whole squad was so collectively shambolic that I couldn’t single out just one player to feature in my starting XI.  (Although Domenech definitely gets the managerial nod– he’s an Aquarius, after all).

Without any further fanfare, you’ll find The Losers after the jump.  Who would you slot in?

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