These are the Champions! 5 reasons why the UEFA Champions League is superior to the FIFA World Cup

What would you rather watch?—A quadrennial month-long tournament with just a handful of memorable matches and the same five or six champions?—Or an annual 10-month-long championship featuring the world's best club teams, literally hundreds of cracking goals and a different winner each year?

Given those options, most football fans would probably choose the latter. I know I would.

In anticipation of the 2015 UEFA Champions League final between Barcelona and Juventus, why not toast the world's premier international club team showpiece?

Given the latest stains on FIFA's reputation and its dubious awarding of World Cups, why not praise the Champions League for being the superior tournament?

Before you rebel or accuse me of sacrilege, hear me out.

The Champions League trophy shown on March 12, 2015, prior to the second leg semifinal match between Bayern Munich and FC Barcelona at Allianz Arena in Munich. (AP Photo/Matthias Schrader)

Apples and Oranjes?

Perhaps it's unfair to compare the FIFA World Cup to the UEFA Champions League. After all, a World Cup is a WORLD CUP, right?

You wait four excruciating years for the most watched, anticipated and celebrated sporting event in existence. It's great. But just as suddenly as it begins, it's over. For all of your patience, you're only rewarded with a month of "fever pitch."

Still, (the early part of) last year's tournament did not disappoint. The group stage of the 2014 World Cup in Brazil featured a slew of stunning goals (Robin van Persie's "superman" header against 2010 champions Spain), surprising results (Spain knocked out) and great individual performances (Lionel Messi vs Iran and Bosnia).

But as in most World Cups, the goals dried up in the knockout stages and teams played more conservatively as the tournament advanced. To make matters worse, nationalistic fervor inevitably seeped into the competition's later rounds.

The meaningless old rivalries and ethnic/racial/national stereotypes of yesteryear dominated the mainstream narrative of the World Cup, making for hackneyed "analysis" and punditry. Even worse, those without a team to represent their real (or adopted) homeland in the later stages often found little solace in supporting the remaining countries.

While fair-weather fans, sporadic viewers and rabid supporters alike wait for 2018, European club football followers are like kids in a candystore year-after-year. Here are five reasons why the UEFA Champions League is superior to the FIFA World Cup...

 

1. The Champions League has better teams and more parity. 

With a three-month-long group stage and two legs per knockout round, the Champions League forces teams to prove their mettle at home and away.

The Champions League has also featured some of the greatest squads ever assembled. Whether its this year's Barcelona team, the 2009 version, Milan 1989, Ajax 1995, Real Madrid 2002 or Manchester United 2008, its difficult to argue that Europe's top club teams are vastly superior to almost all national teams.

After all, the best clubs are comprised of the world's best players, and not just the country's best. Whats more, professional footballers spend so much more time with their clubs than they do with their national teams, which leads to greater cohesion and fluid gameplay.

Real Madrid's Zinedine Zidane volleys past Bayer Leverkusen's Lucio, right, and goalkeeper Jorg Butt, to score his team's second goal during the UEFA Champions League Final on Wednesday, May 15, 2002 at Hampden Park stadium in Glasgow, Scotland. (AP Photo/Denis Doyle)

It's great to see smaller countries, such as last year's Costa Rica team, hang on and battle the big boys in the World Cup. But surely we all know from experience that the smaller nations will never win the whole thing. No team outside of South America or Europe has ever had a realistic shot at winning the World Cup and that doesn't seem likely to change anytime soon.

Conversely, remember when Porto shocked the world in 2003 to defeat Monaco in the final? Or when Liverpool came back from three goals down in the second-half of the 2005 final to stun AC Milan? How about when Cypriot minnows APOEL Nicosia made it all the way to the quarterfinals in 2012? Or when unfancied Borussia Dortmund throttled Real Madrid in 2013 to make it to the final?

The Champions League somehow simultaneously features the best teams and the unexpected.

2. The Champions league is just as meaningful as the World Cup

On a superficial level, the World Cup means more than the Champions League. After all, a World Cup pits nations against each other. And what can be more glorious than being the world's best?

Yet many football fans love their clubs as much, if not more, than their national teams (i.e. Barcelona and its ties to Catalan identity).

Without condoning hooliganism, it is rare to see the same passion and fervor among supporters of national teams as one sees in the ends, among barras bravas, torcidas and their equivalents across Europe.

Moreso than national teams, clubs have truly global followings. With supporters groups, pubs, stores, blogs and other publications all over the world, one can find a fellow Barcelona or Juventus supporter in almost any corner of the globe.

 

3. The Champions League has better matches and better goals

The 2010 World Cup in South Africa was notable for its dearth of well-played matches or great goals. Many blamed the unpredictable ball, but seasoned followers know that all-around conservative tactics and stifled game-play lent itself to a bore of a tournament. Even the 2006 World Cup only had two or three entertaining matches.

The Champions League, on the other hand, always has great match-ups and astonishing goals. This year, Barcelona and Bayern Munich met in a slugfest of a semifinal with the Blaugrana's Lionel Messi figuratively breaking Bayern's Jerome Boateng's ankles before chipping the world's best keeper, Manuel Neuer, en route to a majestic tie-sealing goal.

 

With the likes of Messi, Real Madrid's Cristiano Ronaldo, Chelsea's Eden Hazard, PSG's Zlatan Ibrahimovic, not to mention Bayern's Arjen Robben in the competition year-after-year, viewers can always expect the cream of the crop. While many of these same players grace the World Cup, the difference is the quality of the players surrounding them at club level. That quality makes for these kinds of moments.

4. The Champions League has a better theme song

For every Waka-Waka (2010 World Cup), there's an equally forgettable J.Lo and Pitbull duet (2014 World Cup). For every Hips Don't Lie (2006 World Cup), there's an equally cheesey Ricky Martin song (La Copa de La Vida--1998 World Cup). The Champions League has a classy, mighty, rousing and inspirational theme that will never change.

 

5. No FIFA meddling = No corruption to stain the competition

Nothing close to the latest FIFA corruption/bribery/money-laundering/complicity in human rights violations/what-the-hell-else can they dig up next?--has ever come close to sullying UEFA or the Champions League.

Whatsmore, UEFA has attempted to increase parity in Europe's domestic club competitions by regulating overspending and debt through its Fair Play Regulation.

The Champions League is UEFA's biggest cash cow, just as the World Cup is FIFA's. The difference is that UEFA hasn't been implicated in bribery, scandal or been complicit in the deaths of countless migrant workers to ensure that things go swimmingly year-after-year.

With all of that in mind, here's hoping for a memorable final between Juventus and Barcelona. May the goals reign, may the stars shine and may the UEFA Champions League continue to be what it has always been: The greatest international sports competition of them all.

Juventus players warm up during a training session on Friday, June 5, 2015, at the Olympic stadium in Berlin on the eve of the UEFA Champions League final between Juventus Turin and Barcelona on Saturday. (AP Photo/Michael Sohn)

The redemption of Gianluigi Buffon

To watch Gianluigi "Gigi" Buffon play football is to witness the art of goalkeeping. Everything he does on the pitch is textbook.

He positions himself flawlessly. He exudes control. He reads matches with a measured, almost computerized rhythm.

He reacts like a feline, making the seemingly impossible saves a repeated reality. He commands the penalty box powerfully. He distributes the ball accurately.

He approaches penalties with the demeanor of someone who always knows where the taker will shoot. And he's made stops that would astonish even the Soviet great Lev Yashin.

In short, he's the prototype of the modern goalkeeper. Don't believe me? Watch this:

His qualities, his consistency and the accomplishments they've led to separate Buffon from his peers, and even from his predecessors. Many consider the tall Tuscan "Superman" the greatest goalkeeper of all-time.

But on June 6, in the same stadium where he won the 2006 World Cup with Italy, the legendary Juventus shot-stopper will seek the ultimate redemption.

Juventus goalkeeper Gianluigi Buffon makes a save during the second leg of the UEFA Champions League semifinal between Real Madrid and Juventus on Wednesday, May 13, 2015 at the Santiago Bernabeu stadium in Madrid.
(Daniel Ochoa de Olza/The Associated Press)

Redemption for Gigi?

Why would a World Cup winner, eight-time Serie A champion and owner of 34 individual honors (including the International Federation of Football History & Statistics' Best Goalkeeper of the Last 25 Years and 21st Century awards) require any measure of sporting redemption?

The short of it: It's the classic story of the one that got away. He's never won the UEFA Champions League.

The long of it: Juventus has had a checkered history in "the aughts." Since winning the Champions League in 1996, the team has been marred by heartbreak and scandal. In other words, it's taken much longer than it should have for Juventus and its 37-year-old shot-stopper to return to the pantheon of European club football. 

The beginning of heartbreak 

In 2003, Buffon's second year at the club, Juventus met Italian rivals AC Milan in the Champions League Final at Old Trafford in Manchester, England. The match went to penalties.

Buffon faced five well-struck shots and stopped two—his first save a thunderous, gravity-defying, double-fisted punch at full stretch of a low, rasping strike by Clarence Seedorf.

Unfortunately for Buffon, his teammates missed three. That was the last time Juventus came close to winning the Champions League.

A scandal erupts   

Shortly after the 2006 World Cup, Juventus was relegated to Serie B for its part in the Calciopoli scandal. Along with four other teams, the Old Lady (La Vecchia Signora) of Italian football was deemed to have rigged matches through a thick network of managers and referee organizations by selecting favorable referees.

As a result, the 31-time league champions were relegated to Italy's second division (Serie B), exiled from the Champions League for a season and stripped of their 2005 and 2006 Serie A titles. Many of Juve's top players, such as Lillian Thuram, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, Fabio Cannavaro and Patrick Viera, immediately jumped ship.

But the then-28-year-old Buffon and captain Alessandro Del Piero stayed on to help the team back into the top flight.

In 2006, Juventus was relegated to Serie B for its role in the Calciopoli scandal. Despite an exodus of top names, Buffon stayed with Juventus to help them win promotion back to Serie B.

Climbing back to the top

After a string of decent league finishes (third in Serie A in 2007-08, second in 2008-09), Buffon's next few years were blighted by back injures and the team finished seventh in consecutive seasons.

Despite winning Serie A from 2011-2014, Juventus never advanced past the quarterfinals of the Champions League.

Through bad luck or possibly fate, Buffon has been made to wait for another crack at a trophy that has eluded him throughout his career. Until Wednesday.

Buffon celebrates after his teammate Alvaro Morata scores the go-ahead goal during the second leg of the UEFA Champions League semifinal on Wednesday, May 13, 2015, at the Santiago Bernabeu stadium in Madrid.
(Andres Kudacki/The Associated Press)

Against Real Madrid in the second-leg of their semifinal matchup, the keeper was impervious. A Cristiano Ronaldo penalty aside, Buffon was as commanding as ever.

A sprawling one-handed stop of a swerving 25-yard Gareth Bale missile and an improvised near-post lunge to keep out a left-footed whack from Kareem Benzema kept Juventus in the match and allowed the team to advance to its first final in 12 years.

Even his counterpart, the great Iker Casillas of Madrid, showered the Italian with praise before their semifinal tie. "For somebody like me who's dreamt of being a goalkeeper, he represented a figure we could only hope of one day being able to be showcased with," Casillas said.

"Da Berlino alla B.....dalla B a Berlino!!!!! questa e la vita!!" 
("From Berlin to Serie B.....From Serie B to Berlin!!!!! That's life!!" —Tweet from Gianluigi Buffon)

Now Buffon has a chance, perhaps a final chance, to redeem the lost years of disappointment, injury and scandal.

On June 6 at Berlin's Olympiastadion, in his 533rd appearance for Juventus, Buffon can add a pesky piece of coveted silverware to his astonishing trophy haul. Standing in his way is a Barcelona side featuring possibly the greatest attacking trident of all-time in Lionel Messi, Luis Suarez and Neymar ("MSN" for short).

The odds heavily favor the Catalans, but the odds favored Madrid in the semifinal, as well. The real mark of a legend is an ability to defy the odds and rise to the occasion. Now, few would dismiss Juventus' chances. And none should begrudge the great Buffon if he finds his final redemption.

Where has all of the money gone? Transfers in the age of recession and protest

Last week, the world's wealthiest football club, Real Madrid, paid a world record one-hundred million Euro for an unproven Welsh footballer, albeit one coming off of a standout season in the British Premier League with Tottenham Hotspur.

For the fifth time in the history of professional football (more times than any other team), Real Madrid broke the world record transfer fee for a single player. Madridistas may be celebrating that the long protracted transfer is over, but the rest of the world should be gravely concerned by what this means; and not just to football.

Gareth Bale, left, alongside Real Madrid owner Florentino Perez at his official unveiling Monday, September 2, 2013. Bale became the world's most expensive signing of all time when Madrid paid Tottenham 100 million Euro for his services. Photo: Getty Images

 

 Like so many young talents before him, Gareth Bale, a speedy Welsh winger who has developed into one of the world's most promising players, dreamed of the big time. And who can blame him? To achieve great things we must possess ambition, especially in football. The only problem is that Real Madrid's ability to pay for the "big time" is not only creating an enormous disparity in talent between clubs in Spain's La Liga, creates an inequity in television rights, and frankly, is an embarrassment for a country mired in a half-decade long economic slump.

Tens of thousands of demonstrators stage a protest against austerity, near the Spanish Parliament in Madrid, February 23, 2013. Photo: Juan Medina/REUTERS/

In an era where recessions, austerity measures, unemployment, anger and massive protests threaten the old pillars of capitalist democracies, the mega rich see fit to continue slapping everyone else in the face with astounding nonchalance. In this sense, Real Madrid's Midas touch gives them the biggest hand with which to slap everyone else in what has become an irreversibly bloated transfer market in club football.

To spend one-hundred million Euro on one player (and 188.761 million Euro on summer transfers) should be seen as a middle finger to everyone notwithstanding the owner and inner administrative circle of Real Madrid. Singling out Real Madrid, however, would be wrong.

Madrid are joined in the highest peaks of financial muscle by other mega-rich clubs, such as:

-Paris St. Germain (who on July 16, spent 64 million Euros on one player--Edinson Cavani);

Striker Edinson Cavani at his official unveiling in Paris after Paris St. Germain paid 64 million Euro to Napoli for his transfer. Photo: Jacques Brinon/The Associated Press

 -Barcelona (who paid 57 million Euros for the 21 year-old Brazilian prodigy, Neymar);

The 57 million Euro man, Neymar, waves at a packed Camp Nou in Barcelona at his official unveiling.

-Chelsea (63.5 million Euros in summer transfers);

-Manchester City (88.9 million in major summer transfers); and

-Monaco (165 million Euro)

Combine the summer transfer spending of all of those clubs and you come out with a staggering 627.16 million Euro spent on the transfers of just over a dozen players in little under three months. While that may not be enough to fix Greece's economic woes, it highlights how little empathy wealthy football clubs have for the suffering of the economies (and indeed in many cases their own fans) in their home countries.

The ultimate goal of a profession sports team is to win. And in theory, how they manage to do so is their own business. Yet the problem with these clubs is not that they have money, but the way in which they so arrogantly spend it while millions of people (often their own fans) suffer.

At a certain point forking over hundreds of millions of Euros in the face of parlous economic conditions becomes symbolic. It should even make us think about the role of sport in society and the reasons why we turn to sport for entertainment.

While professional football is not necessarily "the opiate of the people," we should not rightfully stand by and let neoliberal economic logic turn the game into a completely lopsided reincarnation of World War II. The summer transfer market shows just how much of a farce club football has become. Hopefully UEFA's Financial Fair Play Rules (which come into effect this year) can rectify these shortcomings, but considering the corruption which has mired football's world governing body over the past half-decade, one cannot be so sure.

Berlusconi the biggot: Why we are not living in a post-racial age

Newly-signed AC Milan striker, Mario Balotelli, was again the source of controversy this past weekend, but not for something he did.

"Super" Mario Balotelli unveiled at the Milanello.

Balotelli was the subject of a racist statement uttered by club co-owner Paolo Berlusconi (brother of AC Milan owner and ex-prime minister Silvio Berlusconi). Paolo Berlusconi used racist language to describe the volatile Italian striker in a political rally for his brother's prime ministerial campaign. The statement, which was captured on a camera phone, at best translates to, "let's go and see the new little black boy of the family play," and at worst, "let's go and see the new little (n word) of the family play."

Paolo Berlusconi speaking at a political rally last week. Berlusconi invited the crowd to "go and see the new little negretto of the family."

While the Berlusconi's have never been tactful orators (see Silvio's description of Barack Obama as having a "sun tan", or Berlusconi's interview alongside former U.S. president, George W. Bush), this new incident represents a new low. It also highlights the pervasiveness of racism in football and in European society in general. Combine this incident with Real Madrid fans' racist taunting (monkey noises) of Dani Alves (who claims that he's experienced similar racism in la liga for the past ten years) last week, and one would be quite accurate in asserting that racism in football is here to stay.

Barcelona and Brazil defender, Dani Alves, claims that he's experienced racism in Spain's la liga for the past decade.

Racism was once a hallmark of football matches. All-time greats, such as Pele, Eusebio, Ruud Gullit, Lillian Thuram, Thierry Henry and others, have described the racist atmospheres in which they played. These players even came to expect such treatment. That racism was a hallmark of football's past, does not excuse its presence in the modern game. Indeed, it shows us how little has changed since the first days that non-white players played in professional leagues.

Former Spain National Team manager, Luis Aragones, for example, once famously commanded midfielder Jose Antonio Reyes to tell "that black shit [Thierry Henry] that you are better than him." Balotelli himself had previously attempted to walk out of a Serie A match against Juventus three years ago when confronted by racist chants from the Juve faithful. Liverpool forward Luis Suarez was fined and banned for several matches during the 2011-2012 season for continuously calling Manchester United defender Patrice Evra, "un negro" on the pitch (language that is somewhat acceptable in the Rio de La Plata region, but not in multiracial societies). In the fall of 2012 ultras from the St. Petersburg-based club, Zenit St Petersburg, created a petition protesting the purchase of black and homosexual players. And perhaps the most egregious recent incident occurred during the 2011-2012 season, when London police brought criminal proceedings against Chelsea defender John Terry for his racist remarks aimed at Queens Park Rangers defender Anton Ferdinand during a match. Terry was also fined and banned several matches for his behavior. 

Luis Suarez (left) was banned for several matches in 2011 and fined for calling Manchester United's Patric Evra a "negro" multiple times.

Despite these recent occurrences, there are some, including FIFA President Sepp Blatter, who would claim that racism is no longer a problem in professional football, that the above incidents are isolated, or that racism is mostly restricted to sporadic bigotry from an Eastern European ultras section. The above examples, however, would suggest otherwise.

There is some truth to FIFA President Sepp Blatter's assertion that racism is a social problem. It is, however, also a "footballing problem." It doesn't take a sociologist to realize that football is not an insular institution immune to wider social problems. If anything, football is a microcosm of the social, economic, and political features of society. The global economic recession, for example, has financially compromised, and even bankrupted certain European clubs, while an exclusive group of wealthy clubs have been generally unaffected (99% vs 1% anybody?). Insofar as it is an integral part of culture and society, what better place to address racism than in a football league?

Certain incidents have prompted harsher punishments from national and international football associations, such as multi-match bans on fan attendance, fines, and threats of tournament exclusion. Both FIFA and UEFA have created anti-racism public relations campaigns ("Kick it out"). The global sportswear giant Nike followed suit in 2005, creating the "Stand Up, Speak Up" anti-racism campaign that they cashed in on by creating advertisements featuring professional footballers wearing their "Livetrong style" black and white bracelets. Yet in spite of all of these efforts, racism continues because none of these actions were sufficient.

Chelsea defenders John Terry (left) and Ashley Cole (right) "do their part" to fight racism. Terry was the subject of an investigation into his alleged use of an epithet towards QPR defender Anton Ferdinand in 2012.

The time has come and gone to "Kick It Out." Corporate anti-racism does not make it "cool" to fight racism. Fines will not change players' attitudes, or make them think twice about using epithets. Stadium bans do not underscore the severity of racism or change fan behavior. There is only one option; an unequivocal hard line.

Players who use racist language towards opponents should be banned for life. Racist crowd chants should be met with the strictest of scrutiny and lifetime team bans from international tournaments, such as the Champions League. While draconian measures may not always work in the criminal justice system (See Michelle Alexander's "The New Jim Crow"), they have never been applied to football. In other words, the threat of exclusion could actually deter racism.

Perhaps Mr. Blatter is correct in asserting that racism is a social problem. But football is part of our social world, so racism is also a "football problem." And before we tackle racism on a macro level, it is also necessary that we tackle it on a micro one, which means applying the most severe punishment to those who engage in racist behavior.

There is no place for racism in football, nor anywhere else in society. It has been said that admitting to a problem is the first step towards recovery. It is therefore time to stop pretending that racism in football no longer exists, and time to get deadly serious about eradicating it from the beautiful game.

NBC's acquisition of Premier League TV rights a blow to American Soccer

 The television broadcasting conglomerate NBC announced on Sunday that, beginning in 2013, they had acquired the domestic television rights to England's Barclay's Premier League (EPL) for the next three seasons.

Allegedly, part of NBC Sport's selling point to EPL league chief executive Richard Scudamore was the "historical quality" of their international sports coverage. (I can only imagine that they're [somehow] alluding to NBC's Olympics coverage, which is about as biased towards American athletes and contextually shortsighted as possible.)

In any case, NBC Sports' deal with the EPL, worth an estimated $250 million, comes as a strong blow to rival cable television networks ESPN and Fox Soccer (FSC), who are the only two stations currently showing Premier League matches in the States.

Fox Soccer in particular, has been steadily losing its television rights to several other premier European soccer leagues. If the network does not act quickly to stop this bleeding, it may soon find itself in the same zone of obsolescence as GolTV, the once proud owners of television rights to Spain's La Liga (from 2004-2012), who now only show German Bundesliga and a few less-popular South American matches. As a result, Rupert Murdoch's satelite television giant DirecTV dropped GolTV from their broadcast packages.

Even with their extravagant financial offer, which was reportedly four times what any other network was willing to pay, NBC will feel confident that they can recoup expenses in a timely fashion given football's increasing popularity in the United States. While this might be music to the ears of English football fans on the "left side of the pond," who for so long had to illegally stream their beloved "Gooners," "Spurs," or "Red Devils,"it may actually hinder the development of football in the United States.

European football fans, such as myself, have long complained about the difficulty in watching European club football in America. Either you had to pay loads extra on your cable bill for a paltry selection of weekly matches, or you illegally streamed the trials and tribulations of your beloved team through your [faulty] internet connection. Depending on the specifics of the deal, NBC's EPL acquisition could change all of that.

As one of the largest broadcast networks in the States with a signal that is included in most basic cable packages, NBC could potentially deliver what Mr. Scudamore called, the "biggest and broadest programing." Yet nothing is universally "good." It's important to remember the "grey areas," or, what's good for one party may be bad for others.

In this case, NBC Sport's previous tenants, the MLS, will undoubtedly suffer from the "new deal."

Not only will the amount of airtime afforded to the less-developed, less-accomplished MLS decrease, but so will their profits and overall visibility. It's not that every American teen who plays soccer dreams of being in the MLS, but the MLS is all many of them have on hand; its teams the only ones that they can see in person, its players the only that they can tangibly look up to.

There's no denying that the EPL is among the world's best leagues. Some of the world's most accomplished footballers ply their trade for Premier League teams and dominate the limelight of world football week-in and week-out. It's also true that English football is more popular in the States and than any other league. But by effectively riding themselves of MLS, NBC is yet again embracing the "logic" of capitalist at the expense of contributing to the development of a national product. Such is globalization people!

Allow me to sum up the idea here if I have not yet been sufficiently clear...

NBC , a highly visible television network, acquires the rights to a more popular league (the EPL). Because NBC is included in basic cable packages (that are cheaper and more accessible than ESPN/Fox Sports), they will attract more viewers, and hence, generate more profits.

They will do this at the expense of the MLS, whose matches were previously shown on NBC. The MLS mostly consists of American and Central American players (it's where the majority of the Yanks and chavales from Central America have been cutting their proverbial "football teeth" before heading off to brighter pastures. In other words, less MLS exposure=less interest in MLS=less profits for the MLS=bankrupt MLS=big problem for the development of domestic talent in the US. Wow, I need to breath for a moment, that was heavy.

The other day I chronicled my first experience at an MLS match between Sporting Kansas City and the Philadelphia Union. The match may not have caused me to fall in love with the "beautiful game" all over again, but the unique passion of their fans encouraged me to give MLS another chance. I have no premonitions that the MLS will ever be a world class football league, but if nothing else, it's middling quality has served a decent purpose over the past decade by generating some solid American talent (Clint Dempsey, Tim Howard, Landon Donavon, Michael Bradley).

Things may now get more complicated for the MLS. If its survival and ability to attract domestic talent was dependent on gate entrances, advertising, and to a lesser extent, television revenue, it may now need to look elsewhere for funding. NBC shot the MLS in the foot with this one.

While this doesn't come as a complete shock, it is disappointing for those of us living and studying in the States who are attempting to break into sports journalism by covering soccer.

We're not in Kansas anymore?/An odd place for "hooligans"

I was in the middle of the Kansas steppe with flowing corn and wheat fields stretching for hundreds of miles on each side of a seemingly endless highway. The wind gusted through that flat terrain with an unseasonable, disconcerting warmth. And then, all of a sudden pearly artificial lights pierced the landscape. Chain restaurants and retail stores built in the cowardly faux neoclassical style, so typical of some newer sections of the United States, grabbed one's attention like a light at the end of a tunnel. Just beyond the cluster of shops and restaurants it appeared-a bright collasal pentagon made of concrete and white metal, with four sizable surrounding entrances....

This was "Liverstrong Stadium."

Livestrong Stadium

So what exactly were 20,000 screaming soccer fans doing here? And why did this stadium, as of October 24, 2012, still carry the name of a cheater's organization?

Ex-US Postal Service cyclist Lance Armstrong's well-documented doping scandal has left his legacy in tatters. He's been stripped of his record seven Tour de France medals and has been forced to relinquish control of his cancer foundation, Livestrong.

PR representatives from Kansas City's Major League Soccer team, Sporting Kansas City, say that they are not considering re-naming their home ground, Livestrong Stadium. Controversial? Maybe slightly. But what's really in a name? With the team now in first place, clearly not everything.

I recently had the chance to visit the well-reputed home ground of the team formerly known as "The Kansas City Wizards" (a name more fitting than "Sporting," which stinks of a crude attempt at Europeanizing a 17-year old club with no tangible connection to Lisbon, Portugal or its 106 year-old Sporting Lisboa soccer club) and came away from the experience with several new impressions of soccer in the United States.

A birthday present to remember with fun people

The pitch at Livestrong Stadium was composed of nicely-manicured natural grass (a rarity for American sports fields these days). It was surrounded by comfortable well-designed seats with unobstructed views in every row, luxury boxes for the well-to-do, and standing room areas with plentiful access to "food and drink," from where I observed the match.

My friends and I presented our tickets to the ushers and crowded into a surprisingly well-filled stadium. The stadium's atmosphere and general aesthetics were inviting, yet professional-professional in the sense that the design (overhanging roofs, readily accessible food and beverage stations, memorabilia shops at every corner) mimicked the most renowned European and South American stadiums-and inviting in the sense that this felt like a team's true home.

That night Sporting Kansas City, who occupied first-place in the Eastern Conference of the MLS, would play third-from-last Philadelphia Union. The home fans were decked out in sky blue shirts. The supporter's section, filled to capacity, flew supportive banners and cheered on their squad with a fervent passion that I had not personally witnessed since Euro 2012. They even sang their own songs (in the spirit of their European and South American counterparts). Yet unlike some European and South American fans, these were better-behaved "hooligans," content to sing and cheer without resorting to the darker arts of flare throwing, racial abuse, or violence.

What began as a birthday present from a friend, ended with a new impression of a nascent soccer league still trying to establish a unique identity and appeal to a wider crowd.

While I can't say that I was initially excited by the prospect of attending an MLS match, I was impressed, however, by the venue and by the prominence and creativity of the Sporting fans. I can now even see how MLS could develop into an internationally-competitive league (certainly not on par with Argentina's Primera Division or Brazil's Serie A, but perhaps more akin to Mexico's Liga MX or Uruguay's Primera).

Improving this league, however, might require some difficult decisions. The difficulty will be in establishing a youth system that is unhindered by the demands of higher education and college sports. This in essence, is the key difference between the European/South American educational model and the American version.

Whereas European children generally specialize in a subject or pursue a professional track early in their lives, Americans follow the general education principle. It may be hard to unanimously defend either model, but European soccer clubs, who generally begin "educating" players as young as five, have clearly developed an enviable profit-making system.

I've never considered following the MLS, mostly because I've already chosen my loyalties and prefer to follow the established, high quality European and South American leagues. That's not to say that I'll never follow MLS, but I wasn't exactly encouraged by the quality of play that night. Even Sporting KC, a league-leading team, reminded me of the technically dull college soccer that has hindered the development of a decent professional league since the inception of the MLS. Many MLS players cut their teeth with college soccer teams, which given the learning curve for young players, seems like a waste of time.

As easy as it was so criticize some of the slack dribbling, lazy passing, and sloppy play of the Sporting KC and Philadelphia players, they were "doing what they loved and getting paid for it," as one of my friends reminded me.

Confetti rains down as Sporting makes it 1-0

In the end Sporting won 2-1 in a back-and-forth match that made me want to quit drinking the warm Budweiser, which was failing to quench my thirst, and step onto the pitch myself to show the world what I (maybe) still possessed. The blue confetti that reigned down in the Philadelphia half after a Sporting goal, however, snapped me back to my senses. The MLS has come a long way since its inception in the mid-1990's, but it's also got a long way to go.  Teams like Sporting KC and the Seattle Sounders, however, have started to do things the right way and maybe the models for the growth of this league.

An Egyptian In Terre Haute: Soccer's Presence In An Unlikely Place

              Four nights ago the world witnessed the colorful opening ceremonies of the 2012 Summer Olympics.  Kenneth Branagh, Paul McCartney, and several other British celebrities were among the thousands of performers who, garbed in traditional British raiment from various historical periods, paraded onto the expensive, perfectly trimmed grass field in London’s new Olympic Stadium. 

Despite receiving heaps of praise from both the domestic and foreign press, the opening ceremonies were budgeted at an astounding £37 million pounds.  True, they cost £18 million less than those of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics. However, such extravagant spending deserves a high level of scrutiny in light of the regime of austerity imposed on British society, including university students, whose recent protests against rising tuition rates have made international headlines. What better way to demonstrate fiscal responsibility during a time of economic crisis than by spending millions on a lavish two-hour ceremony in a stadium that cost nearly £500 million?

           

I pondered this while driving through one of the United States’ most economically depressed areas-southwestern Indiana. I stopped in a small city called Terre Haute, birthplace of the nineteenth-century socialist Eugene Debs and home to Indiana State University. Sports fans might recall that Indiana State is the alma mater of basketball legend Larry Bird. These days the city, with its multitude of empty lots, abandoned buildings, crumbling businesses, dilapidated houses, potholed streets, and rampant heroin use, is the epitome of how bad things in Middle America have become. 

A Street in Terre Haute, Indiana

Attempting to find a decent restaurant with the help of my smart phone only heightened my impression of Terre Haute’s desperate state as I discovered that two well-reviewed restaurants had closed. Yet despite the rampant blight, some areas of town appeared immune to the economic downtown.  Resigned to checking out one more restaurant, I passed through several leafy blocks containing airy, Victorian-style houses, which lent an aura of pride, or at least exclusivity to the neighborhood.  “Magdy’s” a seafood, pasta, and meat restaurant that described itself as “Italian” sat on the edge of Indiana State’s frat row in a cavernous sky-blue Victorian. Its peeling dark wood interior, masterfully constructed curving staircase, fully stocked bar, and lack of diners were all testaments to a livelier past.   

 Magdy's in Terre Haute, Indiana

A tall, unanimated waiter/bartender led me to a table next to the bar and mixed a praiseworthy old fashioned before taking my food order.  The vegetable risotto and penne alla vodka that arrived half an hour later were tasty, fresh, and clearly homemade.  Anticipating a barely passable and enormously portioned meal, I was surprised by the quality of the fare-I had to know who this chef was.

After finishing my meal, a portly and sweaty olive-skinned cook emerged from the kitchen and filled himself a glass of sparkling water from the bar.  He asked me where I was from in a thick middle-eastern accent, and before I could answer speculated that I was passing through from Chicago “or something.”  I gave him a shortened version of my story, mentioning that I had lived in Argentina for a period, which prompted him to ask me if I knew about Maradona.  I explained that I was a budding sports journalist, that soccer was my beat, and that I considered “El Pibe de Oro” the greatest footballer of all time.  Although he admired Maradona, and even possessed an old school 1986 World Cup Argentina jersey, he seemed taken aback by my proclamation of Maradona as the greatest, preferring, as many do, the Brazilian Pelé. 

Pelé Doing What He Did Best

Before continuing our discussion of world football, I inquired about the chef’s origins.  He explained, with some reluctance, that he was from Alexandria, Egypt, and had come to the US several decades ago.  He had met a woman in New York City whom he married. She was from Indiana and they moved to her hometown of Terre Haute. The marriage didn’t last. Some years later, he married again, this time to an Egyptian woman. 

And here he was in Terre Haute, an old Egyptian football lover from Alexandria.  With a little more prodding I got him talking about his youth.  He told me about Egypt’s love of Brazilian football, their obsession with Pele, a cerebral goal-scoring maestro, who, “none would ever equal.” He reminisced about gathering around a television with hundreds of onlookers waiting for the famed number 10 to make good on his two goal pre-match prediction during a club exhibition game in Egypt. We discussed other Brazilian legends of the past: Garrincha, Sócrates, Zico, Ronaldo, whom he revered almost as much as the great Pelé himself.  Most fascinating of all, he recounted his football playing days as a child, describing Alexandria as a former hotbed of street soccer where children would improvise their own balls out of cloth and plaster and play from dusk to dawn, interrupted only by the protests of angry neighbors whose windows might have been smashed by rogue soccer balls, or by their mothers calling them in for lunch. 

Street Soccer ear Alexandria, Egypt

The conversation seemed to bring back a youthful exuberance and temporarily melt two decades of toil from his face. Yet this chef, like the town of Terre Haute itself, seemed stuck in the past, unwilling to praise today’s professional footballers (or in the town’s case, overcome the harsh reality caused by mass de-industrialization).  Even so, here in this Midwestern town that had seen better times, was the living embodiment of the “internationalist” spirit preached by the Olympics. Here was an Egyptian who professed his love of football, played the Brazilian way, with all of its classic skill, flair, and inspiring samba style.  That he could cook Italian food as well as an Italian was beside the point, but I nevertheless praised his excellent cooking and thanked him for his reminiscences that inspired this piece of writing.   

Before leaving Magdy’s we briefly discussed Egypt’s current political situation, a delicate topic, yet one that he somehow viewed with cautious optimism, shrugging off the military’s tight control of the country and the new president’s affiliation with the Muslim Brotherhood.  “I must stay loyal to my family, continue to work hard, and look to the future with a positive mind,” an attitude learned from the hardships of a migrant’s existence in a city that, at this point, can only improve.

  

Under the European Lights: One Fan's Dream Becomes Reality

June 10, 2012

            Soccer fans across both the “old continent” and throughout the world have been eagerly anticipating this 2012 European Football Championship since the 2010 World Cup, when Spain, one of the few national teams who play the game “the right way,” were deservedly crowned champions. Spending that summer in Granada, Spain and observing the infectious euphoria of a nation was special, but I wanted to be in the thick of the action, I wanted to see the real thing. I wanted to be ‘under the lights’ when it all happened.  

           

            Under the lights of Arena Lviv

 Overused as this adjective is, there is something completely magical about witnessing live football, especially when that match is a European Championship clash between giants Germany and Portugal. Even the best camera work cannot fully capture the speed, technique, or emotional investment in such a match. Televised viewing often gives off a mundane impression of football, yet live viewing confirms the technical virtuosity required to perform a seemingly simple action such as a back pass, defensive clearances, or an off-the-ball sprint under such immense pressure.  In the heavy atmosphere of such a match, one cannot help but glue their eyes on every movement with the fixation of a predator following its prey.

            Thus, I knew that attending any match, let alone the Germany-Portugal match, would satisfy a long-held inner craving for an authentic soccer experience. In this case, the unfamiliarity and magnitude of the occasion rendered it more memorable than the outcome of the match-a grinding 1-0 German victory courtesy of an early second half Mario Gomez header. In hindsight, I will forever cherish the experience and look forward to future evenings under the lights.

            Many North Americans who follow soccer, or “football” as it’s known in the rest of the world, dream of one day crossing “the pond” and finding their Mecca at the Ibrox, the “Theatre of Dreams,” or at Camp Neu in the company of fellow Bhoys (Glasgow Celtic), Red Devils (Manchester United), or Cules (Barcelona). The Euros, however, present an entirely different scenario-the prospect of international glory where the stakes are higher.  In both the Euro and the World Cup, supporters must temporarily set aside their club affinities for the “good of the nation.” The Euro, unlike the World Cup, however, is a shorter, and more concentrated tournament that presently includes seven of the world’s top ten national teams, and consequently, many consider it more difficult to win.  In other words, each Euro match is more meaningful, there is less room for error, and considering the history between the Germany and Portugal teams, those in attendance had something special to look forward to.

             In coming to Lviv, Ukraine for the group stage of the tournament, I anticipated a feverish excitement. I knew that merely stepping into the Adidas Fanzone (a glitzy fenced off area in the center of the city for viewing matches), let alone attending a match, would cause a certain giddiness and unbearable excitement that I associate with viewing an eagerly anticipated movie or attending a live performance of a beloved musical act. Yet with Finland never having qualified, I also felt privileged to be able to analyze the events as a neutral-a true fan of the sport.

  Inside of the Adidas Fanzone

            My pessimism initially grabbed hold of me upon reading that all matches were sold out, and I resigned to spending several sweaty hours watching matches in the Fanzone. Acquiring a ticket, it turned out, was as simple as standing in the Fanzone during the tournament’s opening match. The turnout at the Fanzone for an eventful and numerically underwhelming match between Poland and Greece was impressive.  Several thousands gathered near the famous Shevchenka Statue to witness the tournament's official inauguration in Warsaw. Germans, Poles, Greeks, Portuguese, Canadians, Brits, Danish, and of course, Ukrainians, crowded the square to get a view of the action.

Fans of many nationalities

           My chance for the golden ticket came when a middle-aged, red haired German fan passed by my host Ioora and I with an extra ticket in hand during half time.  Spotting the opportunity, Yura raced toward the man and inquired about the price. He was asking for face value on the ticket-a mere 120 Euros (a bargain really). Having left most of my money at Yura’s house, I cursed my luck and nearly drifted over to the beer vendors to quench my sorrow in some cold suds.  But I was in luck-Ioorah lent me money to buy the ticket-which he claimed he had no interest in-and I was set to join a group of three Germans at the Germany-Portugal match!  

          Despite my initial reluctance to break neutrality and sit with this group, I soon relented after the vendor sold me the ticket for 20 euro less than he had initially suggested.  Now I was truly a “kid in a candy store,” so excited that I even ignored my jetlag, which I had yet to extinguish. Jumping for joy and so thankful for Ioora, we made our way back home.

            That night I barely slept.  I kept dreaming of an audacious Cristiano Ronaldo backheel, an incisive Mesut Ozil assist, or a thumping long range strike from Nani.  On paper, this was about as exciting an encounter as world football can offer, yet the past few international matches between these countries-a handful of overly physical friendlies, and the quarter final of Euro 2008-were both chippy affairs with plenty of fouls and a stop-start pace that had, until recently, typified the German ethos.  Now Germany was a balanced offensive machine, with a plethora of attacking options, and more than ready to face the most lethal offensive player in the world-Cristiano Ronaldo. 

            Groggy, but with butterflies swimming all over my stomach, I woke up late and spent most of the day with Yura in Bryukhovychi-a sleepy, forest-covered suburb of Lviv.  The match would not begin until 21:45, so we decided to stop at a pub in the city center and watch some of the Netherlands-Denmark match, which turned out to be an enormous upset.  Somehow the Danes pipped the Dutch to three points following a narrow 1-0 victory.  Three half-litres of Lvivsky “1715” (local) lager, two pork blini (eastern European crepes), and several potato varinicky (traditional Ukrainian dumplings) were more than enough to calm my nerves and satisfy my stomach.

            At 19:30 we left the pub and I followed the mass of supporters, dressed nearly every color, to the bus station.  Chants, songs, and the sound of improvised musical instruments filled the air as the revelry stretched through the streets of downtown Lviv.  Such was my excitement that even with time to spare, I began walking at a frantic pace to the bus station and began needlessly perspiring from head to toe.  With my wallet and passport in one pocket, and my camera and precious ticket in the other, I shoved my way into one of the Stadium-bound designated buses amidst the Deutsch Fussball-Bund supporters, who were smiling, singing, and chanting all through the 30-minute ride to the marshy outskirts of Lviv.  

Squishing into the bus

It's the "European Way"

            The stadium was not visible from the bus stop, but a host of male Germany fans, sporadically urinating on the side of the sparsely-paved walking path to the stadium, were. I decided to spare my fellow attendees such a graphic display and answered the call of nature in the no less disgusting stadium bathrooms. My heart leapt as soon as the pentagonal-shaped metal stadium came into view, and every step brought more joy to my heart.  “This is the greatest day of my life,” I kept telling myself-a hyperbole no doubt, but it made me truly happy to think that I was fulfilling one of my life’s goals. 

 Arena Lviv in all its glory

A thorough pat-down and a ticket scan later I made my entrance into the sparkling new Arena Lviv, completed only two weeks prior.  All around me were smiling faces, sometimes brushed with the colors of German or Portuguese flags, but always smiling. I drained one more forgettable Carlsberg beer as the dull sun left its final streaks of color on the flat landscape beyond, and then headed inside.

Up, up, up, and...

Freshly planted seed waiting to be destroyed 

            I will never forget the moment I emerged from the stadium hallway into the seating area: it defies explanation and I can only compare it to being re-born.  The fresh grass was surrounded by a surprisingly intimate seating arrangement where spectators, even from the upper levels, felt close to the field. It all seemed so perfect and accordingly pristine. I soon found my companions on the "B-level" (second story) seating, who immediately wrapped me in a Germany scarf, to which I begrudgingly responded with a, “okay, but just for today, I’m a neutral.”

 Meine Freunde" (90 Minuten)

Deutsch Fussball-bund fans

                 The first thing I noticed after taking my seat was the quantity of Germany supporters.  Nearly half of the stadium was blanketed in their colors, while the Portugal supporters were reduced to one small corner.  I attributed this to Germany’s proximity to Ukraine and a stronger economy.   

                 The first half witnessed each team showing too much respect for the other; each one prodding, testing, and defending without constructing any meaningful plays.  Barely 15 minutes had passed when a few dozen Germany supporters started throwing crumbled up pieces of paper onto the pitch, obviously aiming for the Portugal players.  When Portugal winger Nani won a corner he was hit by several, and complained to the referee, after which he was booed loudly.  After five more minutes of insipid play, during which neither team created a chance, an announcement on the loudspeaker in English, German, and Ukrainian proclaimed,  “we understand your desire to support your team, but throwing paper onto the field is bad sportsmanship and could result in the match being canceled, and your team being penalized.”  With that the disrespectful contingent ended their paper charades. 

      Portugal's Nani takes a corner amidst the garbage      

 You stay CLASSY Germany fans

            Portugal defender Pepe nearly brought the crowd to its feet right before the end of the first half. Capitalizing on a momentary German defensive lapse, he smashed a loose ball against the crossbar that bounced downward and almost into the goal. But instead it fell tamely for German keeper Manuel Neuer, and it was not to be for Portugal. 

            Profligacy was the name of the game for both teams until a well-taken header by Germany forward Mario Gomez (born in Germany to Spanish parents) in the 74^th minute.  The stadium erupted into cheers of “YA!” and “YA VOL!” and the match never seemed like it would shift courses after that. Despite the childish behavior by one faction of their fans, I must say that I was rather impressed by the level of German support.  The mere presence of so many Deutsch Fussball fans should be credited with giving the team a slight edge in the form of a “12^th man.” Even the vast majority of Ukrainians seemed to be lending Germany their support (one wonders if western Ukraine's abhorrence of anything Russian and the old World War II animosities between the Germans and Russians have anything to do with this...).

 Germany lining up for one of many free kicks

 It was to be "Ze" Germans' evening

            The match felt like a blur, and before I knew it the final whistle blew. Germany had won 1-0 and picked up three deserved points, a giant step toward qualifying for the knockout stages from the “Group of Death.” Just like the three previous international tournaments in which Portugal had participated, Cristiano Ronaldo was disappointing and failed to produce, though not for a lack of effort.  The world's second best player seemed isolated on the left wing and appeared to be playing at a different pace and skill level than his lesser teammates.  But he would have other opportunities to prove himself.

            I left the temporary companionship of the Germans, quickly gave them back their scarf (vowing never again to wear German football gear), and crowded onto another bus headed for the center, but not before snapping another photograph of the Arena Lviv in its nighttime splendor-a transparent pentagon of pleasing metal and concrete spines.  

 Arena Lviv at night

            Some of us dream of attaining riches, fame, or universal admiration, while others have more humble desires. My fantasy, however, was far simpler: to cross the ocean and attend a match at an international soccer competition. Because of its physical distance, the prospect of attending such a match once seemed so unattainable, and even mystical, which reinforced my desire.  For so long I dreamt of taking my seat under the lights and watching the very best the world had to offer, and now I have. After last night, I can honestly admit that I may now die a happy man. 

 (You'd think I could at least stifle a smile?)