Two Points Dropped, or a Point Gained?: USMNT 2 - Portugal 2

24 hours after the Cristiano Ronaldo cross that rocked the USMNT, the crack analytical team from farlieonfootie breaks down the game and looks forward to Thursday's action.

Mark:  To revisit our pre-cup theme, did we really take Alejandra Bedoya over Landon Donovan? Bedoya apparently did not complete a single pass yesterday.

The one thing we have lacked so far is precision in front of the goal, and the most precise player in American history is making funny commercials while we are missing the goal by a foot to the left and a foot to the right.

Who thinks that Donovan misses that tap in that Bradley missed yesterday. I don't think Donovan has ever missed on of those. That would have been Donovan's spot yesterday.

It's a real shame because we seem to have a real team here, except that we need a second forward or wing player. And we left the best one in the history of the country at home.

Scott:  I’m still in denial. It can be a cruel game. But then you can make it even worse by not hanging onto the ball for another 30 seconds. At least twice in the last couple of minutes I saw times we could have easily bled off 15 seconds or so, but instead we gave it right back to them so CR7 could have his one moment. A botched clearance, a missed open net, and inability to waste 30 seconds… I wish I could go back to bed.

Mark:  I think this is hard to let go of because we know this is going to come back to haunt us. In American soccer it always does. There are never happy endings. It's like what happens to the Central American teams. Some how even when they should win, they lose, usually by some call where the ref gives the game to Argentina or Germany because they are the teams that are supposed to advance. I am hoping Portugal wins. I don't have a lot of confidence that we can take Germany. I think we are capable of a devastatingly close loss to them, but not a win.

The one thing I am happy about is that US soccer is clearly better than Portugal and that's no small feat, and Costa Rica is better than a lot of people so our group now has some respect.

Confessions of a Rum-Fueled Football Addict

While sipping a Dark 'N Stormy (Goslings Rum, ginger beer, ice and a lime) in Bermuda on a recent pre-season farlieonfootie staff trip, we had the opportunity to reflect on the craziness that is the world football transfer market:

o Wayne Rooney's gone. He's handed in his transfer request and wants off to Chelsea. Or he hasn't, and has re-committed himself to David Moyes' United, provided he's not booed when the Reds play in front of some actual fans later this week. Both stories equally plausible, and more to the point, both stories published in the British press. ON THE SAME DAY. Which just goes to show you: most of the news you read is not fit to print. 

o Cesc is coming to United. Or maybe he's not. Actually, in the end, we think Moyes will get his man. Where there's smoke there's fire, and Cesc and his agent are looking like Smokey Bear these days. We think the Spaniard wouldn't mind a move back to a team where he's "the man," and reuniting with Robin Van Persie wouldn't be all that bad, either. One question if the move goes through keeps us up at night, though: what song will United fans sing when Anderson comes on the pitch?!

o And speaking of Ando, we have only one thing to say: THIS is the year that he decides to lose weight?  Fear is a great motivator...

o Could Criatiano be coming home?  It certainly sounds plausible to us. Real Madrid going gaga over Gareth obviously means the Spanish side are feeling some sort of pressure. And Moyes' openness on the whole Fabregas story has always struck us as odd. Maybe the new man is happy to let the press fixate on the one move so that he and Ed Woodward can get the other move done with a little less light shining on it.....  Even if the move fails to materialize, we expect to see Ronnie back in red before he hangs up his cleats for good. It's one thing to be feared; it's a whole different kettle of fish to be loved. 

On Why We're Angry and Confused

photo by Arturo J. Paniagua	via PhotoRee

You think Wayne Rooney is angry and confused?  Here's a couple of things we've been dying to clear up, as well:

o David Luiz plus any amount of cash as a makeweight for Roo?  Please.  We'd rather see Luis Suarez walk through the tunnel at Old Trafford every week than be forced to cheer for Sideshow Bob.  If we're going to take a horse's ass, at least let's take one who knows how to play football.

o Did the Special One become so unhinged in Spain that he thought he could get one over on his rivals by publicly unsettling a player curently under contract?  Credit to David Moyes and the new press-friendly Manchester United PR department for leaking the inclusion of Juan Mata or Luiz in the proposed deal.  True or not, Moysie returned Chelsea's aggressive serve with a bullet aimed directly at Mou's ankles.

o Hmmm, let's see: Cristiano or Fellaini?  Thiago....or Fellaini....?  Fabregas.....OR Fellaini....?  ANYONE or Fellaini??!!  Why can't Moyes just admit he wants his former fro-laden hitman to follow him to Old Trafford?  Perhaps it's because he knows this now highly-likely move will be greeted with a massive sigh of resignation from the club's worldwide fanbase.

Tumbling out of My Head

photo by Crystl	via PhotoRee

 

 

Because sometimes it's difficult to keep it all inside....

o Congratulations are due to Brazil for their resounding 3-0 victory over the world champs to take home the Confederations Cup -- but let's not get carried away by the selecao's triumph.  Putting aside the fact that no team which has won the warm up prize has ever gone one to win the big one, we just don't think the Brazilians are all that good. Having seen them play a number of times this past year, we believe that the team rode the home crowd support and got an excellent tourney from their big gun, Neymar Junior. Put the wear and tear of 11 months in La Liga on the kid, though, and we believe Brazil will be exposed next summer for what they are: a decent team, perhaps even a top 10 -- but a team that can look downright pedestrian at times, as well. We won't rule out a wave of popular support taking the team as far as the quarter or semi-finals next summer, we just don't think they have what it takes to go all the way. 

o And speaking of superstars, we fervently hope that the play acting we saw from Neymar will be gone by the time he returns home to play in the Cup, although we sincerely doubt it -- especially since his destination is Barcelona, home of the world famous divers and play acting superstars. The Brazilian's faking is so good as to make it  an integral part of his game. Grabbing his face when there hasn't been any contact within a half foot of it is something that threatens to overshadow his supposedly legendary talent. We hope he learns to rein it in...

o Cristiano Ronaldo returning to Manchester United?  Yes, please. Sir Alex'a departure probably threw a kink in the Real Madrid superstar's thinking, but we won't rule out his return to Manchester at aome point during the next 12-15 months. Sometimes it takes moving away to realize the grass is not always greener, and Ronaldo may not be enjoying his homecoming as much as he once envisioned. 

o In the meantime, we'll take Thiago Alcantara....  It would be nice to finally see someone leaving Spain to come to England to play football. Although his likely reasoning is to gain a better chance at playing for his country in Brazil next summer, David Moyes likely won't be too concerned at the young Spanish prodigy's motivations, as long as he's there pulling the strings alongside Michael Carrick this season. 

La Liga's Embarrassment of Riches

These Boots Will Soon Be Mandatory in Spanish Football
photo by Mzelle Biscotte	via PhotoRee

We don't know if you had the opportunity to watch yesterday's King's Cup Final, but we did.  And after witnessing that "spectacle," we have two thoughts: 1) it's fitting that the final was moved to Friday night due to a conflict with tonight's Eurovision Final: last night was a great warmup for anyone who enjoys seeing lots of gel, makeup and handbags on display; and 2) what a complete embarrassment that game was for Spanish football.

In some ways, the whole fiasco was a fitting farewell to Jose Mourinho's time at Real Madrid.  While holding seemingly endless promise at times, the end to Jose's reign was predictably chaotic -- fist fights, red cards, fake injuries and more.  The chickens are coming home to roost, and Jose is leaving Stage Left.  You reap what you sow, some might say.

But the game was also a stinging indictment of the modern Spanish game.  Full of artistry and world class players, Spanish football is slowly being killed by drama queens and sheer fakery.  The amount of facial "injuries" sustained by players who were not touched is at an all-time high.  The amount of rolls an "injured" player attempts to complete on the ground after being fouled -- all in an effort to con the referee -- is at its peak.   And the amount of time wasting -- stretchers being brought on to the pitch, only to see an "injured" player experience the type of miracle usually reserved for those at Lourdes -- is greater than in any other league in the world.  In short, modern Spanish football is an embarassment, and is now at the risk of turning itself into a parody of the true sport, a la the World Wresting Federation.

But farlieonfootie, you say: Spanish football is the best in the world: home of Xavi, Iniesta, Ronaldo, Falcao and more.  It contains Barcelona, until this year the paragon of the modern game.  It includes Real Madrid, Europe's most decorated team.  And its national team has won both the last World Cup and the most recent European Championship.  Yeah, we know all that.

Splitting Hairs: Final Thoughts on Manchester United vs Real Madrid

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It's rare that we find ourselves agreeing with Scott, but it does happen on occasion:

There were only two things worse than the horrendous red card call during the Real Madrid - Manchester United Champions League clash on Tuesday: Gus Johnson's commentary and United's defending after the red card call.  Yes, there is no doubt that the foul did not warrant a red card.  However, it did warrant a yellow card and I'm surprised that so many have questioned even that - it was the very definition of a dangerous play and deserved a warning, for which yellow cards are expressly manufactured, in Sri Lanka I believe.  That there was no intention is exactly the thing that makes it yellow instead of red.  That Nani did not even see Arbeloa does not remove it from the realm of a yellow card because, quite frankly, a player should know that flying through the air with studs up on a pitch with 21 other players just might result in spearing one of them.  Yellow card. 

A yellow card would not have altered the course of the game as the incorrect red card did and it is a real shame we couldn't see the game play out without referee interference.  But here is where I will veer from the opinions of many (all?) others.  I propose that the red card affected the final result not because of the numerical advantage given to Real Madrid but, rather, because United was so psychologically affected that they failed to continue to do what they had done so well up until that point - defend.  Sure, their ability to counter-attack was hamstrung by a missing player, but they were already a goal up.  All they had to do was keep the visitors from scoring for 35 minutes.

Before you scoff and sarcastically retort "oh, that's all?", consider how the game had gone up until then.  Real Madrid had enjoyed overwhelming possession at Old Trafford but had only managed a few relatively tame efforts on goal.  Why?  Because United had defended very well up until the red card (Carrick was a force, snuffing out dangers all over the field as if he were playing Wack-a-Mole with his feet) and Real Madrid had failed to take advantage of their opportunities (such as Ronaldo failing to get on the end of Higuain's wicked, low cross to the far post).

Fixed: Referee Madrid 2 - Manchester United 1

Manchester United were forced out of the Champions League by a shocking referee's decision on Tuesday night, as Nani's undeserved sending off changed the entire tenor and shape of what had been a tense and fiercely contested match.  Seeing a game-ending foul on a play that would likely not  have drawn even a yellow card in the Premier League, Turkish referee Cuneyt Cakir took the game into his own hands and almost singlehandedly gave the two legged tie to Madrid 3-2 on aggregate.  The sending off took much of the drama out of what to that point had been a white hot contest, with Real Madrid possessing more of the ball but United looking the far more dangerous attacking side.  Even Wayne Rooney's late game introduction, necessitated by the Englishman's surprising pre-game omission, was not enough to save the Reds on a night from which they deserved more based on the quality of their play. 

Although the two teams entered the locker rooms scoreless at the half, it was United's early second half goal that saw the home side rewarded for their valiant and disciplined defensive effort.  Although the pre-game talking points had been all about Madrid's counter-attacking abilities and questions surrounding United's midfield, it was the Red Devils who looked the more dangerous team on the break and Los Blancos who appeared the more labored of the sides in their midfield play.

The game changer was the referee.  Used to overseeing games in the Turkish League, referee Cakir was overwhelmed by the occasion and willfully altered the outcome in Madrid's favor. Although Nani's foot was raised, it was clearly in an attempt to bring down a wayward clearance effort -- and the winger showed no intent of harming unseen Madrid defender Alvaro Arbeloa, who -- to his credit -- did not roll around the pitch in the exaggerated manner favored by many of the visitors. 

Coming less than ten minutes after United had assumed control of the tie meant the home side were forced to play with ten men for over 30 minutes.  WIth Jose Mourinho at the helm, veteran Real watchers knew the Special One would make changes, and the first substitution he made altered the game within ten minutes.  The newly introduced Luka Modric curled an outstanding ball past the fingertips of an outstretched David De Gea to equalize the match in the 66th minute, before Cristiano Ronaldo tapped in a Gonzalo Higuain cross three minutes later to seal the contest and see Madrid through to the next round.

Even the visitors' bossman agreed his side had benefitted from the referee's shocker, claiming after the game that "the best team lost tonight." While the comment may have been aimed at currying favor with United's Board of Directors, it was a typical spot on assessment by Mou, who likely also sympathized with the cruel fate bestowed upon his friend and counterpart Ferguson.  Although United fought back valiantly, and threatened numerous times even when down to ten men, in the end the second road goal handed the home side an impossible task.

The match which ended so prematurely began rather slowly.  Several giveaways opened the match as both sides displayed nerves shredded by three weeks of anticipation. The first threat of the game came from the visitors, as Ryan Giggs conceded a free kick, but Cristiano Ronaldo's effort was snuffed out by a brave Tom Cleverley standing firm in the wall.

Curses and Grades (on Manchester United and Real Madrid)

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Correpsondent Scott's fandom can be described in the same manner as his taste in beer: bitter.

So, there I was watching Real Madrid host Manchester United on Wednesday. Being a Real fan (and FOF being a United fan), I was looking forward to Los Blancos taking a couple goal advantage to Old Trafford for the second leg. Unfortunately, a funny little thing happened at the Bernabeu, kind of a Freaky Friday thing. You see, for 90 minutes it seemed that Real Madrid had morphed into Liverpool.  
They they were dominating possession, winning the ball back quickly (and high up the pitch), creating twice as many dangerous chances and, in every way, bossing the game and dictating the flow of play against an uncharacteristically ineffective United side which seemed content to pack it in and play counter attack. Then, just like the Liverpool Reds, with various opportunities gone begging, the Whites conceded on a set piece (corner) via a defensive lapse (the post was left unguarded). They did manage to draw after a Cristiano Ronaldo equalizer but this was one of those times when a tie was the same as a loss, especially given that the (Red) Devils now have an away goal. Images of Liverpool vs. Arsenal and Liverpool vs. Manchester City have plagued me ever since the final whistle, after which I pouted through a wife-forced watching of American Idol. I’m beginning to develop a complex – it seems my fandom is turning into the soccer equivalent of the Madden Curse or the Gillette Curse. I’m just crazy enough to not watch a couple of games to see if that helps. With my luck I’ll end up being the poster child for confirmation bias.  

But enough about my mental (in)stability - I can really relate to those Bud Light "It’s-only-weird-if-it-doesn’t-work" commercials (even if I loathe the beer involved). After all, it’s so much more fun to criticize others. Herewith, some grades:  

Real Madrid – B

They would have received an "A" if they had just managed another goal and won the game. They were brilliant from start to finish, apart from finishing (semantically ironic, I know) -- and the aforementioned defensive lapse, of course. Absolutely dominating the inevitable Premier League Champions, Madrid moved the ball effortlessly around the chasing men in red. Really, their only flaw was defensive communication (and set pieces, of course). But boy do they counter fast and furious (yes, grammar geeks [of which I am one], I realize adverbs are appropriate there – I was going for the alliterative allusion)! But I digress.... Mesut Ozil was a maestro in the midfield, Ronaldo was scintillating, Xabi Alonso was indefatigable and Di Maria peppered the goal as if it were steak au poivre. The bottom line is that the much better team on the day did not win.  

Manchester United – C  

The next Premier League champions looked out of their league, and more like a relegation team against their Spanish opposition. A couple of corners and counters are what passed for their offense as they chose to dig in deep in their own half for large stretches of the game. Running around chasing the white ghosts who seemed to vanish the ball just prior to each tackle, it was actually unsettling to see them so unsettled.  

Yes, there were a few dodgy moments for the home side when the Manchester Keystone cops managed to pick up their trousers, thanks to a certain Dutchman, long enough to actually stumble into the forward third with the ball, most notably during a period when more Real defensive miscommunication led to a series of dangerous United crosses. But those efforts ultimately came to naught and the last 10 minutes saw the visitors batten down the hatches for, and ultimately survive, an all-out onslaught by Madrid.

Fight Another Day: Manchester United 1 - Real Madrid 1

photo by Claudio Gennari ..."Cogli l'attimo ferma il tempo"	via PhotoRee

Without much exaggeration it was called the tie of the season, as Manchester United entered the lion's den Wednesday to face Real Madrid at the Santiago Beenabeu in an epic first leg clash of the Champions League knockout round. The pre game storylines were enough to make one's head whip around on a swivel: Cristiano Ronaldo's return, Jose Mourinho vs Sir Alex, Madrid vs Manchester and many more in the days and weeks leading up to the contest. But at 8:45pm on a Wednesday night in Madrid all the old stories were laid to rest and a new one waited to be written as the game kicked off.

It was all Madrid in the early going: the home side with the first threats of the night, but both Sammy Khedira and Angel Di Maria fired significantly wide of the mark. Fabio Coentrao was much closer to target as he banged it off the post and was unlucky not to open his account near the five minute mark -- surely creating early cause for concern on the visitors' bench. Also creating concern were the acres of space United left open on the pitch for the Madrillenos to run into -- all the better from which to menace David De Gea's goal.

Cristiano Ronaldo absolutely terrorized his ex-teammates in the early going, all fancy stop and go, move and shake, hit and run, reminding them who currently holds the title of the world's second best player. United were unable to keep the ball for more than a couple of passes, and were hard pressed to get the ball out of their own end, so dominant was the home side in the game's early going.

But against all odds it was United who struck first on the evening: Danny Welbeck with a shock glancing header, entirely against the run of play, and on only the Reds' second shot of the evening. Flicking free of Sergio Ramos as Wayne Rooney swung the ball in from the corner, Welbeck rose higher than anyone else and handed the visitors a much hoped for road goal near the game's 20 minute mark. If the goal was expected to shift the course of the contest, it didn't: although rattled, Los Blancos picked right back up where they left off and set out again on the attack.

And again it was Ronaldo at his menacing best, who looked the most real (and Real) threat. When his free kick slammed into none other than Robin Van Persie near the half hour make, it told all those fortunate enough to be at the Bernabeu all they needed to know about the visitors' defensive commitment for the evening. Committed or not, though, by the half hour mark the game was back on level terms: Ronaldo switching sides, and nodding his team back into the contest as he hung high over Patrice Evra for the equalizer.

Welbeck almost doubled his side's joy on 35 minutes, with only a timely intervention from Madrid 'keeper Diego Lopez stopping the Englishman's attempted toe poke from putting the visitors back into the lead. A free kick given away by Rafael on the edge of the box created yet another concern for the visitors' defense, and only a good non-call on a Phil Jones shoulder barge on Di Maria sustained the scoreline as Madrid swaggered forward near the interval.

Late for the Party: Barcelona 2 - Real Madrid 2

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Barcelona. Real Madrid. Camp Nou. Need we say more?

Of course we do.

Needing a victory, Real visited the hallowed Catalan grounds that have rarely brought them good tidings this past Sunday evening. Due to fitness issues affecting the home side, however -- lacking both starting center halves for this latest version of El Clasico -- Los Blancos must have entered Sunday's contest with significant hope for the first time in ages.

The game started out as if both teams were late to a party -- which in Spain would mean arriving quite tardily, indeed. Bodies rushed back and forth, up and down the pitch, as each team sought the early advantage, but neither side had a true shot on goal until the newly shorn Sergio Ramos missed an uncontested header from right in front of Victor Valdes' goal: the exact same spot typically so well protected by the aforementioned and absent Carles Puyol and Gerard Piqué.

Cristiano Ronaldo -- he of the sad affect of late -- made no such mistake near the 20 minute mark, though, burying his first shot on goal and beating Valdes on the near post for a deserved 1-nil lead for the men in white. Less than two minutes later the lead should have doubled, with the posts serving as the Catalans' most effective defender, denying a wide open Karim Benzema from point blank range.

Not to be left out, Lionel Messi soon pulled out his party invitation and drew his team level -- a rather surprise development, if any goal by the Argentine wunderkind can be described as such. In contrast to the typical artful Messi scoring play, this was more of a like Real Madrid "Tilt-ing" on the pinball that was bouncing around in the box, self destructing through unintentional rebounds and caught standing still at the one moment that truly mattered.

It wouldn't be a Clasico if the handbags hadn't come out, so it was no surprise when tempers flared just before the half as ticky-tacky fouls were greeted with moaning and writhing about on the pitch. But if the first half served up some wicked action, it was solely to prepare the fans for the second 45 minutes, which opened at one end with a disputed non-call on a penalty for Real Madrid and continued at the other with a disputed non-call on a penalty for Barcelona. The teams then traded free kicks from dangerous spots, although the home side's effort was considerably more celebrated.

No Walk in the Park: Manchester City 2 - Real Madrid 3

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Tie askew, Jose Mourinho looked slightly disheveled as Real Madrid's first round Champions League matchup with Manchester City got underway last night at the Santiago Bernabeu Stadium. Sitting slumped in the shadows of his black leather sideline chair, his face partially obscured, the Only One looked as if his team's poor early season performance was weighing significantly on him. The Madrid Bossman's agitated state contrasted sharply with the suave visage of his opposite City number, Roberto Mancini. But while Mou may have appeared unsettled, it was the neatly coiffed Italian coach's defense which began the game looking completely unhinged, as the home side took the attack straight at the visitors from the opening whistle.

Cristiano Ronaldo made Vincent Kompany -- no less than the all-consensus best defender in the BPL last year -- look average at best in a one-on-one situation in the game's opening ten minutes, and only a fine save by City 'keeper Joe Hart kept the Spaniards from taking the early lead. When Ronaldo beat Maicon again a few short minutes later, flashbacks of Gareth Bale must have been running through the City fullback's mind even as Joe Hart bailed him out -- this time managing to deny Ronaldo's effort despite the misdirection afforded by Gonzalo Higuain's headed touch immediately in front of the City goal.

If the Spaniards were unable to take advantage of their early dominance, City found it difficult to maintain even the slightest scrap of possession in the game's first half. It was only through one of Ya Ya Toure's trademarked rampages through the middle of the pitch that City sent a brief reminder that there was more than one team intent on scoring for the evening.

Even the normally industrious Carlos Tevez was reduced to a mere spectator by City's conservative gameplan, a development Mancini sought to alleviate by switching to three at the back as the second half began. As the game clock hit an hour, though, the result was more of the same: City struggling to leave their own end, and Marcelo's missile just the latest development to tease the Madrilleno fans: almost, but not quite good enough.

It was when bodies began bouncing off Toure like cartoon bullets off Superman that the crowd finally sensed something special in the offing -- an event confirmed by recent sub Eden Dzeko's fine finish that handed City a stunning 1-nil smash and grab lead.

Hypocrisy, Horse Teeth and the Offside Rule

photo by treehouse1977	via PhotoRee

Scott answers an age old dilemma in his latest piece:

In order to distract myself from last bloody Sunday when the referee of the Liverpool/ Tottenham game pulled so many yellow and red cards out of his arse that rumors were circulating he had stumbled upon a pre-match smorgasbord of wounded canaries, I set aside my third bottle of Rioja and earnestly considered the paradox that has consistently confounded sages through the ages: How can we hate a player on one team and then cheer for him when he joins our team?


I completely acknowledge that as I point out others who are guilty of this fan foible, there are three other fingers on the same hand accusing me back. How else could I span the gaping chasm from loathing Luis Suarez for maliciously denying the poor Ghanaians their rightful victory in the last World Cup with his goal line handball antics, to wearing out my Uruguayan rosary beads every weekend in hopes that he might help Liverpool restore their dignity and former glory? 

Conveniently ignoring the perpetual toothy scowl, I find myself, more often than not, quickly excusing his petulance and tantrums, whether it be at the Britannia or on White Hart Lane, so I can return to cheering for the goal we desperately need. It makes no difference that he has gone from annoying defenses to just plain annoying.  All because he swapped his light blue jersey from the summer of 2010 for the blood-red jersey worn by fanatics in a city along the eastern side of the Mersey Estuary.  Andale dientes de caballo!

Super Cup or Super Farce?

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Pep Guardiola was back in his modified Devo costume last night as Barcelona and Real Madrid played for the second time in four days, this time at the Camp Nou in Barcelona, Spain. I don't know about you, but these 'Clasicos' are seeming more like 'Commonos' with their seemingly regular occurences.

Once again, Los Madrilenos came out of the blocks flying, peppering Barcelona 'keeper Victor Valdes right from the game's outset. Jose Mourinho had obviously amped up his side to compete physically with the smaller Catalans, who were dominated in Madrid earlier this week, nevermind the final 2-2 scoreline. Indeed, the Blaugrana's performance at the Santiago Bernabeu on Sunday left more than a few fans and journos alike scratching their pates wondering what happened to the vaunted Barca possession game.

On Wednesday night, it was Cristiano Ronaldo channelling the King, Eric Cantona, with his upturned collar striking fear in the hearts of the Catalan defenders in the early action. Barcelona countered with a King of their own, as Lionel Messi slotted in Andres Iniesta, who chipped Real goaltender Iker Casillas to give the Catalans an early lead in the same casual manner you or I might take a Sunday stroll on the beach.

Ronaldo evened matters less than five minutes later, as a rare Eric Abidal concentration lapse managed to keep Los Merengues onside, with the Portuguese wonderman tapping in a brilliant Karim Benzema delivery to knot the scoreline at one.

A Thing of Real Beauty

photo by bobu	via PhotoRee

Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Argentina vs. Portugal
34,000 feet
Somewhere between New York and Florida, courtesy DirecTV and Continental Airlines

It's red, white and blue on display in Geneva, as Portugal enter in their familiar maroon, and Argy Bargy show up in the famous sky blue and white, the latter color matching the smattering of snow still on the pitch Wednesday evening in Switzerland for the international friendly.

The game opens as if poetry in motion, both sides showing majestic fluidity in attack, with Lionel Messi tiptoeing through the Portuguese defense like tulips, and Cristiano Ronaldo showcasing pace with the ball at his feet that makes him one of the game's most exciting and feared attackers. From the outset, both Argentina and Porutgal play breathtakingly beautiful one touch football, the ball pinging back-and-forth and side-to-side as the teams trade opening jabs. Both Di Maria and Ronaldo find the net in the opening twenty minutes, the game exploding into non-stop, end-to-end action. Jose Mourinho, Pep Guardiola and Sir Alex must be wincing slightly to see their all-stars playing their hearts out for their respective countries, keeping fingers crossed that no one gets hurt, and wondering if by any means they could all slow it down just a bit and save some strength for the upcoming weekend's exertions.

The contest offers countrymen and neutrals a clear view of the world's best pure footballers, and Cristiano (he of the artfully coiffed, slicked back hair), and Lio (showcasing his two-day unshaven, gruff look) don't disappoint, the two men absolutely riveting to watch. Like great NFL running backs, there's very little side motion in their movement, only forward, broken field running and hurdling with the ball attached to their feet as if by super glue. These two are playing a different game than other mere mortals -- with the possible exception of Dimitar Berbatov --  both in terms of their goal output and sheer footballing brilliance, playing the game as it must have first been imagined by God.

Shut Your Mouth

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Did I mention that I'm cold?  Oh, yeah -- that was yesterday....  Still, I find myself in the heartland of this country -- college football country, to be exact --  and it's freezing here.  Not weather fit for football of the English or American variety, and certainly not weather fit for living.  But maybe weather fit for beer drinking (what weather isn't?), so even though this is not a game review article I'm dropping a beer review in at the end of today's blog.

Shut Up:  Cristiano Ronaldo called out the one-month wonder that is Mario Balotelli in an interview earlier this week.  After the Man City striker hit the trifecta by comparing his side's offensive output favorably to Barca and Real, denigrating Wayne Rooney's status as a Manchester-based striker, and elevating Roberto Mancini above Jose Mourinho in the pantheon of coaching greats, @Cristiano injected a bit of realism into the debate.  Now, I fully admit that I don't have the greatest control over the Portuguese language, but even I can translate what Ronaldo was telling Super Mario when he said to "talk less and play more."  'Nuff said.

A Shakesperian Drama in Five Parts, as Played on a Catalonian Stage

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farlie on footie special European correspondent Todd returns to our pages by popular demand, reporting tonight from Barcelona’s London Bar, where he's still actively looking for Hemingway’s ghost:

When farlieonfootie asked me to cover this year's Superclásico, it was with some trepidation that I approached the subject, for it was no simple task.  The 161st league meeting of Real Madrid and Barcelona would weave storylines complex enough to make even a spider dizzy, and had all the makings of a Shakespearean drama, including:

·         Catalonian rebels vs. the Crown

·         Pep the local hero vs. the Special One imported from abroad

·         Messi vs. Ronaldo – the last two winners of the Ballon d’Or

·         Barça vs. the coach that swiped their Champions League Cup

·         Played on the 111^1th anniversary of the founding of L’equip blaugrana

The rain falling on Camp Nou served as an omen that tears would be shed after this Superclásico match-up.  The stage was set and the players included most of the World Cup champion side, though predominantly wearing the blaugrana kit.   These are casts that coaches dream of.

Rather than recant the plays that comprised the game, as many other bloggers will, I instead offer some insights to ponder.  Before proceeding, though, a few caveats.  First, I confess that I am an avid Barça supporter so please, dear reader, consider the perspective from which I savored the match.  Second, I am a modestly informed spectator of European football despite my inescapable American roots.  And third, I am a midfielder by blood, heart, and mind.  OK?  Then, let’s begin.

Nero Fiddles While Ronaldo Burns

photo by beggs	via PhotoRee

Just arrived back at the home office after a quick jaunt to Rome -- the farlieonfootie corporate jet sure comes in handy these days..... I spent the better part of last evening engaged in an engrossing discussion with a top european football correspondent, in a shameless attempt to convince him to jump ship and join our global footie empire.  We sat out late, eating and drinking under the stars -- has anyone else noticed that Jupiter is visible to the naked eye right now? -- and talking Serie A and La Liga until the wee, small hours of the morning. Time will tell if our man was convinced by the lavish pay package and extensive corporate benefits, as well as the opportunity to profit from our strong corporate brand and global reach, but you -- like me -- will just have to wait and see, fingers crossed. 

More later, and now onto the good stuff:

What?  That Release Was Supposed to Go Out Tomorrow?  The cat is out of the bag on Anders Lindegaard, the 6 foot 4 inch Danish shot blocker who appears to be Manchester United's newest signing. Although the deal isn't official yet, someone forgot to tell the Public Relations staff at Aalesund FK, Lindegaard's current club in Norway, who posted this web page yesterday announcing the deal by mistake. Apparently, the terms between the clubs have already been worked out, with the Reds shelling out €3.5 million to bring on the Dane, and now only the details of Lindegaard's personal contract need to be ironed out, and a physical needs to be passed, before the move will take effect. 






Although it doesn't appear that the 26 yeard old will be the presumptive #1 when VDS retires, the signing would seem to indicate that Tomasz Kuszczack is on his way out of Manchester.  Word continues to be mixed on whether the ultimate replacement for the big Dutchman will be the 20 year-old David de Gea, or the oft-injured but world class Gigi Buffon.  Here's hoping it's the Spaniard; I really like that guy.

Stop Italian Racism Now.  Mario Balotelli was booed by his own fans Wednesday night as Italy played Austria in a friendly (I'm quite certain Balotelli was thinking "With friends like that, who needs enemies?").  A crowd of approximately one hundred right wing Italian extremists taunted Balotelli during the match, as well as held a banner which contained the inspiring message "No to a multiethnic national team."  


Balotelli -- who was born in Italy of Ghanaian descent -- responded to the jeers after the game with the following statement:

"I was very disappointed yesterday, and I didn't want to say anything. The only sure thing is that I alone can't do anything. Everyone needs to do something against racism." 

We couldn't agree more, so we'll do our small part: Stop Racism Now.  There's no place for it in football, or in the real world, either.  Period.  Full stop.

He's Baaack.  Wayne Rooney could return this weekend against Wigan Athletic, according to multiple published reports, including this one from The Guardian's Daniel Taylor (who would appear to be a nice guy, and impressively, actually responds to tweets @DTGuardian).  Who knows if Rooney will actually play, but he did have an impressive week of training at Camp Nike in Oregon, according to Sir Alex.  

Rooney also came back appreciably lighter: half a stone.  Being the ugly American, I have no idea what that equates to in pounds -- although I do know that Rooney's bank account was fattened up by about a £1 million of them since he signed the new contract last month, despite the fact that he's yet to even step on the pitch since that time.

Finally, I'll Leave You With This Piece of Brilliance.  Did you manage to catch this candidate for goal of the year by @Cristiano on Wednesday?  Too bad it was disallowed. Ronaldo made Casillas look like an absolute amateur, and that's not something you can say (or even write) very often.  As it is, after watching the replay multiple times, I have two questions:

1) What in the world was Luis Nani thinking?  It's a good thing he apologized, because there was absolutely no need for him to touch the ball -- it was already in the net by the time Nani put his head to it.  I'd be furious, too, if I was Ronaldo, which I'm not.


And that brings up question 2) When are we getting goal line technology?  Because that ball was well over the line when Nani headed it.   Well over the line, much like many of our prior columns.  Here it is once again, for your viewing pleasure:



This is farlieonfootie for November 20. 

Manchester United Ready Sensational Summertime Swoop for Lionel Messi

photo by adifansnet	via PhotoRee

Really grabbed your attention with that headline, huh?  Problem is, there's no truth to it. Not an ounce. But I broadcast the story to highlight the ridiculous nature of the various tabloid rumors that pass as fact and fly by the average footie fan on a daily basis, regardless of whether these is a shred of fact in the story (to say nothing of whether or not the relevant league transfer windows are open).

Grist for the news mill is the primary reason; that, and agents seeking negotiating leverage and using the media as a willing pawn in their high-stakes contract game. Newspapers or websites that publish multiple articles daily need stories to fill their (web)pages, and unfortunately much of the media seems to subscribe to the point of view that it's better to publish something false that not publish anything at all.

Don't believe me?  Take a look at some recent headlines:

Rooney to join Barcelona

Real Madrid Set to Bid for Manchester United's Wayne Rooney 

Luis Fabiano Linked with Manchester United Move

Mesut Ozil Courts Chelsea

I could go on and on; these are only a few of the recent ones I've seen. In fact, if you name a top 50 player, and randomly place him in one of the world's top 4 or 5 teams (or City, one of its richest), you can find the rumor somewhere out there on the internet or in newspapers. It's become like a party game.....  Let's see: where is Diego Forlan headed today?  Hmmmm....  Chelsea sounds good. This, despite the fact that Forlan already played in the EPL and decided to head over to Spain and La Liga. Could he return?  Sure.  Likely?  No.

And it’s not just the British press that deserve criticism in this regard. Spanish papers are also stirring the pot, as are many of the rest of Europe's tabloid dailies.

The height of ridiculousness was reached this past week with the many rumors out of Spain that Cristiano Ronaldo wanted out of Real due to his disappointing recent form, and that SAF and the gang at Old Trafford were preparing a £100mm pound blockbuster bid to bring him back (see Outlandish Rumour of the Week: Cristiano Ronaldo to Return to Manchester United). My guess is that Florentino Perez got a good chuckle out of that one (and may have secretly hoped there was some truth to it!). Yes, I know that Ronaldo has never ruled out a return to the United fold in the future, but the chance that will happen before his current contract nears expiration is close to 0.

So I've come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the onrushing stories is to ignore them. Sure, there are some stories that persist so long (CR7 to Real, Fabregas to Barca, etc.) that you have to believe there is a kernel (or more) of truth to them. But the vast majority of the stories appear overnight in response to recent news events (Ashley Cole's on his way out of Chelsea, Rooney's leaving United, etc.), fly in the face of reason and disappear from the sports pages just as quickly as they appeared. This summer the rumors came fast and furiously, as the World Cup hype kicked the media into transfer speculation overdrive. I am sure there were many young United fans (naïve to the cruel reality of the world) who salivated prematurely over a United midfield composed of Wesley Sneijder, Mesut Ozil, and a front line that included the two Luis', Fabiano and Suarez.  Problem is, that midfield and strike force were never going to happen.

So more grist for the mill gets published, widely disseminated, read by fans and discussed on blogs all over the world. I almost wish I lived in Europe so that I could receive the papers that produce these rumors in their physical form, because then I could put them to their proper use: as fuel to light the charcoal briquettes for my Weber Kettle. And that's farlieonfootie for September 27.

Column Four: La Liga, The Temptress

photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/37873897@N06/4750531339/	via PhotoRee

So there I was minding my own business, happy in my little footie life following Manchester United and the English Premier League, and having a grand old time getting to know the game.  For the most part, I remained blissfully unaware of the world's other major leagues except when it was impossible to ignore them, in competitions such as the European Champions League.  Sure I knew that Barcelona and Real Madrid had won a bunch of European trophies, but that had to be in the old days, or due to some fluke factor, right?  I mean, there's no way that the football outside of the EPL could be any good, was there...?

My first brief introduction to La Liga football actually occurred when David Beckham left the Manchester United fold to join Real Madrid in 2003.  The news initially hit me hard. Even though I knew Becks and SAF had a falling out (or maybe a flying shoe), it still hurt me as a United fan to see Beckham leave.  The long searching passes, the bending free kicks and the Spice Girls' WAG show all gone in one fail swoop.   Bummer.  I searched in vain for Real games on US television, but 2003 might as well have been another lifetime ago when it came to watching european soccer here in the States.  Rarely available in the US, and even more seldom seen in my house, Becks disappeared into the netherworld of La Liga, a strange and fantastical place that appeared to exist only in my imagination and in the agate type of the International Herald Tribune Sports page.  My enthusiasm quickly waned, and my loss was softened by the emergence in the next season of a certain Cristiano Ronaldo -- there was a new #7 in town, and I quickly forgot about the old one (sorry, Becks).

Flash forward several years to another morning of major disappointment.  This time, though, it was the news that the one and same Cristiano Ronaldo was leaving Manchester United to play for Real Madrid, and this time the departure was based on choice not necessity.  I felt sucker punched.  Wasn't this the guy who had scored 42 goals for us a season ago?  How would we replace him?  And, as importantly, how would I see the joyful dancing across the field, the sheer speed, loping strides, and swerving free kicks that were Cristiano Ronaldo?  (Somehow i've conveniently forgotten the fanciful dives and artful writhing that were also Cristiano Ronaldo).  My once fervent search for La Liga football seemed destined to come back to the fore.  After all, if Beckham and now Ronaldo had been seduced by the dream of playing for Real Madrid, what was I missing?  And could I hold out?

I tried to watch Real, and did so on several occasions.   This time, too, it was much easier to find them on the tube,  thanks to GOLTV in particular.  Barca games were also readily available.  I was too angry, though, to care much for Barca due to United's loss to them in the 2009 Champions League final, and despite watching Real on multiple occasions, I was never able to sit still for a whole game.  Something just didn't click.  Real never felt right for me: too much Galacticos, too little chemistry.  Kinda like the Yanks circa 1985.

But then came a fateful family trip.  Inspired by Chef Jose Andres cooking Spanish food on PBS ("Jose Andres' Made In Spain"; http://www.josemadeinspain.com/), and and Gwinny, Bitty, Mario and Claudia roadtripping through the Iberian Peninsula (ironically, also on PBS) in "Spain: On the Road Again" (http://www.spainontheroadagain.com/), I decided to go to Madrid in person with my one of my daughters last February.  (Incidentally, both series make for great television and are highly recommended.  If they don't make you want to jump in the kitchen and start cooking, they will, at the very least, make you want to jump in the kitchen and open up a nice bottle of Rioja to help you kick back and enjoy the spanish countryside flowing by).  Although Real was out of town during our trip, and I had no idea that Getafe  played in Madrid (actually I didn't even know that Getafe existed, to be completely honest), I did some quick searching on the internet and found that Atletico Madrid were in town while we were there (okay, so we actually planned the trip around the soccer game, but let's not be picky).

And thus the opportunity presented itself:  in order to get "smart" on Atleti, and actually know who we were going to see, I decided to watch a game or two (okay, maybe 5 or 10 is more accurate) in advance of the trip.  Sure, it meant having to watch an extra football game each week, but there are some things in life you just have to do if you want to get ahead.

I knew Diego Forlan, of course -- why, he was an ex-Red!  Although his time in Manchester proved largely unfruitful, his name will forever be sung around Old Trafford (United's stadium) due to the 2002 brace he scored against arch-rival Liverpool.  And Kun Aguero, Diego Maradonna's diminutive son-in-law and Forlan's deadly strike partner, quickly grew on me.  The kid had some moves.

But who was this guy Reyes?  He played for Arsenal?  Why'd they let him go?  He's good!  And Simao?  I knew he played on the Portuguese national team, but I had no idea what a player he actually was.  And what about this Ujfalusi character?  Looks like a hippie, but man can he cross the ball.  DeGea?  Isn't he a bit young to be starting between the sticks?  Maybe, but the kid is unreal -- an acrobat in goal.  These guys were capable of some serious football. And fun to watch.

And then it happened.  Atleti polished off Barcelona right in front of my unbelieving eyes during our visit to the Vincente Calderon, as the stadium rocked back and forth underneath the adoring crowd.  I went to Madrid and fell in love.  I couldn't help myself, actually.  Atleti played great football, really artful stuff, and handed Barcelona its only La Liga loss of the season.  And I came back and just had to watch their season continue.  Despite faltering domestically, Atleti played great European football last year and won a major title (more on this in a later column).

And it dawned on me:  I loved La Liga almost as much as the EPL.  It had become my dirty little secret, admitted only to close friends and no one else.  It would never replace the EPL, but I began to think of it more like a mistress.  The football was good, even great at times, and the players were fresh and exciting.  ESPN's Phil Ball got it spot on in his great piece That La Liga Stuff -- this is a league to love.

And watch.  Alot.  And that's farlieonfootie for September 24.