EPL Talk » World Cup

Switching On To Football: An American Supporter Awakes… Part 1

Ethan Armstrong — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 18:04:48 +0000

After hearing from fellow Americans who follow the Premier League, I’ve been pondering the idea of coming to English football as an outsider. Here’s how my own love affair from distance got started…

Part 1: Inhaling the World Cup…

Back in 2006, my inner football junkie came alive when I discovered the World Cup. Something switched on and I followed every match I could. The love I’d had for soccer playing it as a child returned tenfold as I became a spectator. I didn’t want to miss a single pass, cross, goal or save. If I wasn’t at work, I was inhaling the games. There was a gracefulness and a flow absent from the baseball and American football games I’d long enjoyed. Every soccer moment had infinite possibilities for the match to swing one way or the other. The boundless movement was tempered by an undeniable tension. I perched myself on bar stools and took it all in. Watching the English, the Dutch, the Brazilians, the USA, I began to understand why most of the world devotes so much love, time and nerves to this beautiful sport.

Mostly, I tuned in at a New Hampshire pub: The Coat of Arms – British Pub and Restaurant. I’d been going there for years, but the sound was normally off on the TVs showing soccer and rugby. Now the sound was cranked and when England played, the place was packed. Countless Brits I didn’t even know were my neighbors materialized at the Coat. The pints flowed (sometimes at 8am) and the staff scurried through the throngs of tense supporters, taking orders for greasy breakfasts, bangers & mash, fish & chips, ploughman’s platters and (my favorite) chicken curry pitas.

I remember being blissfully lost in the atmosphere of the England-Sweden match. Not able to jump on a plane and fly to Germany, the crowd at the Coat seemed the best possible substitute. Each change of possession, each ball out to touch, each chance on goal inspired raucous noise. Owen went down and the room groaned. Crouch came on and cheering erupted from the back corner—the Liverpool contingent? They shouted their encouragement. “C’mon, Crouchie!”

Who was this guy? I thought. Skinny, lanky, tall enough to look Paul Pierce in the eyes. This was a football striker?

Crouch didn’t score that match, but he made an impression on me nonetheless. His appearance and movement made him an athletic iconoclast to pique my curiosity. I can’t say why, but I liked him immediately and wanted to know more about him. And another player who quickly became ingrained in my conscience did find the back of the net: Steven Gerrard, the late sub. Joe Cole—who’d already scored one of the insanest goals I’d seen at that point, collecting a ball with his chest 35 yards from goal and volleying it back toward the top corner where the keeper got a hand to it but couldn’t keep it out—scooped the ball from just outside the box. His cross sailed over everybody and found Gerrard unmarked. Gerrard headed it home and the room absolutely exploded. I’d never heard such noise outside a rock concert. Gerrard ran. The pub shook. The beer flowed. It was wonderful.

Then Henrik Larsson killed the mood with his injury time equalizer. But I figure that sinking feeling was just an important introduction to football supporting as anything.

After the USA didn’t make it past the group stage, I kept up with England. If only to re-live the atmosphere of the Sweden match. This led to the Portugal quarter-final. The one where Wayne Rooney stomped Ricardo Carvalho in the junk. Rooney was sent off. Nobody scored from open play. Portugal won 3-1 on penalties. My English neighbors were crushed their team was out. I was crushed my English neighbors wouldn’t fill up the pub again that summer.

I wanted to feel how they felt. The highs and the lows. But I wasn’t there yet.

I missed the semis (keeping up with them on a laptop behind the bar where I worked), and I missed the final (my friend was supposed to DVR it for us to watch later, but his system crashed), so I was forced to watch the headbutt-heard-round-the-world on YouTube.

All I knew was I wanted more football. Based on the energy of the English supporters at the Coat of Arms, I started investigating the Premier League. I’d watch as many matches as I could. I was determined to find myself a team. But how, I thought, does one do that as an outsider?

When 2006/2007 was upon me and I dove in full tilt. I wasn’t sure of my place as an American seeking English football. But, hey, I had no choice. The inner football junkie had awakened and he had demands. Who was I to deny him?

Tomorrow, Part 2: Inhaling the Premier League…

Do We Ask Too Much Of Our International Sides?

Ethan Armstrong — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 18:13:28 +0000

Yesterday, I asked the question of implementing live video review in football. Today’s question is: are our expectations too high for international football? I enjoyed your responses to yesterday’s article. Please weigh in with your feelings on international football in the comment section below.

It is easy to hold one’s international side to an unfair ideal. On the international scene we want to see the same quality and resolve of the most successful league sides. And why not? A country’s top players are called up and collected, pulled from their various posts in the world to come together and represent their country as the best and brightest in footballing talent. Why shouldn’t England, the Netherlands and Spain have the same success, the same overstuffed trophy cabinets of Manchester United, AFC Ajax and Real Madrid?

These three countries have long been strong figures on the world stage and they’ve fielded some of the world’s best players. But success has often been elusive.

England have boasted the quality of Beckham, Shilton, Lineker, Owen, Barnes, Gascoigne, Shearer, Keegan, etc, yet they haven’t won the World Cup since 1966. They’ve never won the Euro. Doubly frustrating since England was the birthplace of the game as we know it today.

The Netherlands gave us Total Football (cue heavenly music). They seduced the world with Cruyff’s flowing grace and bottomless imagination, and his heirs—the likes of van Basten, Kluivert, Bergkamp, van Nistelrooy, Robben—have carried his ideals onward. Today, they have some of the best attacking players in the world. They won the Euro in 1988, but they’ve never won the World Cup.

These are two of the most confounding examples. But any national team can struggle to live up to the quality of the sum of its parts. Reigning World Cup champs Italy, have stumbled since 2006. They still burst with quality. But age has compromised their vitality. They had to sneak into Euro 2008 before bowing out to Spain on penalty kicks. They didn’t make it from the group stage of the Confederations Cup, losing to both Brazil and Egypt.

Spain may be the best team in the world now, but pre-2008 they were famous for promising starts before getting knocked out by the quarter-finals in the Euro and World Cup alike.

One problem is the international side can never build the deep chemistry of the top league club. They simply don’t have the time. Practices are limited and matches are squeezed into the gaps in league campaigns. If the league side is a player’s day job, his national team is the regional conference. He meets up with the top men from the other top companies, but how much can they really get done when they don’t work together every week? They practice when they can. They play friendlies to hone that competitive edge. But all the while the team is changing shape as different players hit their stride at the day job (or get injured onsite) the call-ups shift and the face of the team changes greatly in a short amount of time. Meanwhile the national manager haggles with league managers over who he can have, who he should rest, who he should sub off in the 60th minute. How does he get anything done with such parameters?

The other big issue is context. There is a huge disparity between the nature of league and international campaigns. A winning league club gets to bury the odd loss in a heap of good results in a long season. But since major international campaigns are built on group stages and knock-out fixtures, the best national team can be derailed by a loss or two. Spain tied Brazil’s 35-match unbeaten streak, but one loss to the US yesterday saw them knocked from the Confederations Cup. Similarly, the Dutch had an unbelievable record in the qualifying and group stages of the Euro, but Russia knocked them out 3-1 in the quarter-finals.

Ultimately, success on the international stage is built atop a foundation of skill and depth. But in the end what it really takes to capture the big prizes is a bit of magic. Spain are not the best team in the world because their players are better than Lampard, Gerrard, Rooney, Robben, Sneijder, van der Vaart, etc.. These are all world-class players as well. No, what pushed Spain over the edge into greatest team-dom was that they found that necessary spark at all the right times. From Iker Casillas’s gravity defying saves to that instant when Torres broke through and broke German hearts with his single goal, Spain had enough magic moments to transform international side into club team. If you’d told me they played together everyday, I would have believed it in the summer of 2008. They started a fire that kept them going for 35 unbeaten matches. Despite loss to the US, they may well be able to keep the thing lit through 2010.

Overall, I think we set the bar of expectation higher than most international sides can handle. Given the circumstances working against them. But we are not about to lower it. We’d rather wait, praying our side can someday vault over our soaring hopes.

Spain once made up the Triumvirate of Fruitless Promise along with England and the Dutch. But in 2008 they finally broke through to find success. The Three Lions and the Oranje will just have to keep trying and waiting for their own spark to flare up. That intersection where all the elements of skill, drive and luck come together at once. The miraculous goal goes in. The belief-defying save is made. That small bit of magic lifts the side at the perfect moment to see them sprint along the thin margin of error and claim all the glory.

Of course, as an American, I’m just hoping the USA can lose more beautifully to Brazil in the final on Sunday—barring a South African upset today, which I’d take—than they did in the group stage. If they want to defy belief agian that’s fine too. But I’m not sure how many miracles they’ll be allowed in one competition.

Now that I’ve gotten started on the Dutch, my thinking wanders to the influence Ajax and the Oranje had in the 1970s (and beyond). Tomorrow’s question: What Does The Dream of Total Football Mean Today?

It’s Arrogant to Call Internationals Boring

Richard Whittall — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 02:00:40 +0000

Gentleman, let us put away childish things.

Yes, international breaks can provide some godawful football. Yes, it doesn’t seem fair for a player to risk injury for a team he plays with only five times a year and miss games for the club that employs him on a weekly basis. Yes, nations like Lichtenstein don’t give much bang for your underdog dollar when facing Germany.

But to call international football boring, to curse the name of the foreign sounding manager who would dare call up your club star to represent the nation that raised him, to rant on whatever message board or blog that will let you about the inanity of Wales versus Finland, France versus Lithuania, is arrogant in the extreme.

Hatred for the international break comes from the same school of thought that calls for the abolishment of the Carling Cup, the FA Cup, and the speedy introduction of the European Super League. If the same nations always seem to advance in international tournaments, the absurd logic goes, why not give them an automatic berth and have everyone else duke it out over the summer?

Well, for one, things change in international football, if maybe not fast enough for the club supporter who mentally erases the club season just as soon as it’s over. Hungary were considered a global footballing power in the 1950s, along with Austria in the 1920s. Yugoslavia, Denmark and Greece have more European Championships than England. Hell, Uruguay twice as many World Cups as England. Brazil was once considered small potatoes in South America, and Argentina didn’t participate in international tournaments for two decades out of fear of embarrassment. Who’s to say Ivory Coast, South Korea, or even the United States won’t one day win a World Cup?

Sure, these are established footballing countries with ambitious national programs, but what about San Marino and the Faroe Islands? These tiny nations are unlikely to take a national tournament by storm, but is it fair to take away the right of nations to compete in the most popular game on the planet just because you get a bit bored one Saturday or Wednesday out the season? If you ask any professional footballer, they will often point to international caps as the highlight of their career. It could be something curmudgeonly club-shirted punters, Best-Of DVDs in hand, might never understand.

Interview With Roger Hunt: Questions Please

The Gaffer — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 11:00:09 +0000

England and Liverpool legend Roger Hunt will be interviewed this week for an upcoming episode of the EPL Talk Podcast, the only Premier League interview show on the Internet.

Roger Hunt was a member of England’s 1966 World Cup winning side. Hunt is the player whom strike partner Hurst always mentions when discussing his controversial second goal in the final when the ball hit the crossbar and bounced down. Hurst always says that Hunt, the closest player to the ball, would have followed up to score himself if he’d been in any doubt, but he turned away in celebration of a certain goal.

Hunt played for England 34 times, and made 404 appearances for Liverpool during his 1958-1969 tenure there.

If you have any questions you’d like host Johnathan Starling to ask Hunt, please post them in the comments below by midnight Thursday, February 5, 2009.

Diego Maradona Returns to the International Football Scene

James Harris — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 02:00:04 +0000

As Diego Maradona prepares to return to the forefront of international football it is quite fitting that he will make his managerial debut of the Argentine national squad in the cauldron of all English hatred, Hampden Park. Anyone that can somehow contribute to the demise of the England national football team is embraced with great affection north of the border, and it is no surprise that Maradona has been afforded cult hero status once again as he prepares his side to face Scotland in a friendly on Wednesday.

Before we get going let me preclude this by stating that in his prime Maradona was one of the best players to have ever played the game. His talents and skills driving the midfield of a powerful Argentina team made them a fearsome force in the sport. In terms of technical skills, he was one of the best. Note, I say one of the best. Many, consider him to be the greatest player to have ever played, and if you consider his own self-proclamations of footballing genius, maybe that is not surprising.

However, let us get something straight up front. Pele is bar none, the best player to have graced the world’s most popular sport. Pele, not only led his team to an unprecedented three World Cup championships in four tournaments, but off the field, he is a class act, a diplomat for the game, for his country, a true legend. To even try to put the subject of this article on a par with Pele is beyond laughable. Unless that is, you are able to make a case for Pele being an arrogant, cheating, drug-addicted egomaniac oblivious to anything outside of his own pathetic life. I seriously doubt that you can. Wait, did I say that out loud? Guess I’m not caught up in the latest edition of Maradona mania.

Argentina are a perennial world power of football that boast a wealth of talent in the likes of Lionel Messi, Carlos Tevez, Javier Mascherano, Sergio Aguero, Lucho Gonzalez, and Maxi Rodriguez to name but a few. The rivalry, bordering on hatred between England and Argentina is well documented but in terms of footballing talent I give credit where it’s due. Don’t get me wrong; when our nations match up, I am as fanatical as any red-blooded Englishman vying for the Lions to bury the despised men in blue and white stripes. I still have the shirt depicting Beckham’s glory after scoring the penalty to beat the enemy at the 2002 World Cup finals – dubbed by some as the “Foot of God.”

The notorious, “Hand of God” incident in the 1986 World Cup quarterfinal match between England and Argentina ignited the fuel of hatred towards Maradona and left a foul taste after an otherwise enthralling battle between two very good teams. Before that incident, I felt he was a dangerous player that could derail our dreams of a world title. His second goal in that infamous match was truly an amazing feat as he dribbled over half the length of the field leaving five English players in his tracks, confirmed that fear. Sickening but amazing, and later described by England manager Bobby Robson as “a miracle.”

Being defeated on the field is acceptable, it’s hard to take, but when the game is over, if you come out on the losing end, even the most fervent and bias fan has to accept that their team ultimately lost to a better opponent. What true fans cannot accept is getting so close only to have their dreams shattered by such blatant cheating and then having that same player declare his act as the work of God. So God’s a football fan and he (or she) apparently has it in for England. Come to think of it though with the amount of tournaments that we’ve lost on penalty shoot-outs, maybe the little twit was onto something.

Back to Diego and he returned to the World Cup 4 years later as Argentina won through a series of penalty shoot-outs to advance to the final before losing to West Germany 1-0, on a penalty, in one of the dullest World Cup finals in history. USA ’94 ended Maradona’s international career when he was kicked out of the tournament for failing a drug test.

Maradona enjoyed incredible success at the club level reaching the peak of his playing career with Italian Serie A side Napoli. He played a major role in the team winning 2 Italian Championships and the UEFA Cup, amongst others during his time in Naples, and was the Italian Serie A top scorer in 1987. His drug addiction and a host of other personal problems ultimately led to his demise and he left Napoli in disgrace after serving a 15 month ban for testing positive for cocaine.

But, now after being through several rehabilitation programs, gastric surgery, a close brush with death, and spending some quality time with a few of his mates and idols in Cuba and Venezuela, he is ready to be born again and lead his beloved Argentina back to world glory on the football field. This latest venture begins Wednesday at the site where he scored his first international goal in 1979, and Hampden Park is the perfect venue to host the return of one of Scotland’s modern day patron saints. Trust me Mel Gibson has nothing on Diego and his hand puppets.

Ironically, Scotland’s assistant coach, Terry Butcher was on the field at the Azteca in 1986. I doubt that big-Tel will greet Maradona in the way that he really thinks befits this “legend” but, like any other England fan that remembers Mexico in ‘86, I also don’t think he will get carried away by the politically correct swath of adoration that has taken over the British media in the build up to the match.

If nothing else, it will be interesting to see how this latest chapter develops. In terms of justice, there will probably be none for the English fan unless, of course, our respective teams make it all the way to the 2010 final in South Africa, and God chooses to give England a hand, if he or she is really watching.