Soccer Fan Blog

A Barcelona – Athletic about Madrid invites to think about goals, incredible moves, recoveries, expulsion … finally, strong emotions. Far from those shocks that were doing of a football match the most similar thing to a combat of boxing, now the story has changed enough. For a time the Barcelona keeps on being faithful to the tradition but the mattress-makers have decided to put themselves in goals strike.

After seeing five to two with which it has gained the Barcelona to the Athletic one, I remain with several points, highlighting the notable teams difference at the time of defining. I do not know how many times I listened to the information and the true thing is that both teams have not been that far of his attempts of goal.

As it was of waiting for the Barcelona it began much better and already to twenty seconds, which it one would not believe if it did not see it, the blaugranas had already pulled at the stick. To two minutes they were already ahead in the scoreboard, to the quarter of an hour they were increasing the goals distance and to the half an hour they were doing the third one. In half an hour, when to the party he still has left an hour of game, the Barca already had his cattle.

The criticism will be directed to the defense mattress seller and to his substitute doorman, Roberto Jiménez. Undoubtedly it is the easiest thing but I do not believe that it is the most correct thing. The athletic defense was composed by international soccer players, and also, it cannot be that every year the error is always of those of behind, independently who plays. I would like saying the same about Roberto Jiménez but today the boy did not have his best day.

With the third one so much of the Barca, that one that fell down to the Athletic one of Madrid and our thirst of emotions, facts took place on the part of the places that they were exceeding. Let’s call the things by his name. If Dani Alves puts an absence great goal with the inestimable collaboration of the goal rojiblanco, and bearing in mind that only a third of the party takes played, what less it should do, and not only out of deference, is to be left of heels, of untranscendent filigrees or touches of ball that they do not lead to anything but to look for a hard entry. I do not also understand Henry’s attitude, throwing itself to the soil when the Barcelona had the scoreboard and the ball of his side. Incomprehensible that in the first part remains knocked down during a good moment later to get up without consequences in the rhythm of the party, for mitigation of all. I do not know that he was looking.

I do not want to forget Chygrynskiy, the calmest defender that I have seen in my life. I have found out for the transmission that Johan Cruyff said about him that was the best central one, with difference, of Ukraine. I believe it, certainly the Barca has paid for him a fortune, but more that to be the best central of the country should be the best player of the whole League. What momentazo gave with the transfer to Víctor Valdés when this one had two players of the Atleti to one meter.

Image | The World

Yesterday I attended two soccer games. The first one cost me a total of $11 (two Gatorades and $4 match fees), the latter about $90. The first was very much a community event, the latter was distant and relatively alienating. The latter was better quality, but not by that much in many ways, and it certainly wasn’t a philharmonic orchestra.

For a while now I’ve been wondering about the nature of following football. What got me? What is keeping me? What sort of things “get” people in general? Especially new people, like myself. I’ve mentioned it before in this blog, but for the context of this article I need to point out that I am very much a “new fan,” and as a blogger can only pretend to be a new fan’s voice. Over the past three years I’ve felt the differences between old fans who’ve known the sport for decades and for whom the A-League is a bold new adventure, and people like myself for whom the A-League is just part of the terrain I’m discovering. For this reason I rarely try to analyse games or players, but am more interested in writing about the experience.

Now I am a fan of Association Football, and I did not become a fan through the A-League but discovered the A-League a few games into Season 2 (It was a 5:0 thrashing of New Zealand Knights, which might have helped my initial enthusiasm). The things that I can identify that came together to make me a fan of the game, were my son’s team, the 2006 World Cup and the movie Goal! The point here is that it was the game itself that seduced me, and not any particular team or league.

Ok, what’s my point? Well there’s a few reasons I am into football. One of them is the beauty, grace and skill of extraordinary athletes playing a complex tactical battle. For this of course, none of the games I watched yesterday really fulfilled. It’s hardly dissing the A-League to point out the obvious fact that there is much better quality soccer on free-to-air TV. I watched Arsenal play Celtic the other morning, so please don’t even argue with me – there is no comparison. Purely on the criteria of virtuosity, the A-League is relatively expensive and relatively poor at the same time.

There’s more though right? Of course! Accessibility and community connection come together as another reason I’m a fan of this sport. It didn’t take me long to realise that, even at the venerable age of 38, I could play. I still play in a futsal team on Tuesday nights and it is pure joy, especially when we win, as well as social, and mentally and physically engaging. Pretty quickly I added up just how accessible soccer is, with junior leagues down to the age of 6, women of all ages, disabled competitions, homeless competitions and indeed, for tragics like myself, divisions up to over-55s.

But the A-League fails here too right? I’ve got mates in good senior teams, both women and mens, mostly playing for West End. The truth is I haven’t gotten to them for a while, but I have done and will be trying to catch the finals. These games are free, you can shake the player’s hands afterwards and get more than a ‘next please’ from your comment about the goal, manouvre or foul. You’re likely to even be asked if you’d like a drink.

But they’re not as good are they? Of course not, but really, is the A-League $50/person/game better? To use the analogy of music, we’ll pay $100 to watch the very best, we’ll pay $15 to watch a pub band, but will we pay $60 for something in between? I’d argue no. If it’s not going to be larger-than-life, we’d prefer the everyday talent of our friends. The A-League, as the most expensive football experience available to Australians, is stuck in the middle whilst charging top dollar, even to watch it on TV.

There’s a third reason people, including me, are attracted to football, and has to do with very ancient, probably genetic, urges toward tribalism and place. It’s the reason Australians in particular will follow any sport where their team is winning, and why a valiant few will follow their team even if it’s losing. Make no mistake I am a Brisbane loyalist and although other sports don’t really turn me on, the Brisbane Roar has my interest for the long term, thick or thin. These sorts of fans are the ones you meet on the blogosphere, the ones who wear their team shirts to unrelated social events and join fan organisations. The territory comes with belonging and identity and for single young males in particular (but not exclusively) it probably aids sanity in a bewildering world. As a religion soccer is far more rational than Christianity or Budhism precisely because it is explicitly human contrivance and does not pretend to be breathed from the mouth of God.

But here’s the thing. People who just love soccer for its beauty will get up at 4.30am for Champions League games and look forward to the World Cup. Why would they bother with the A-League, especially as it is so much more expensive? People who love to play and watch in their communities are actually likely not to go to A-League games because they have their own games and their own league to follow (anecdotally, I find this is literally true – very few grassroots players follow the A-League except distantly).

And lovers of tribe?

I love the Brisbane Roar, I know their names and try to follow events, but the media is very poor, and mostly reads like highly filtered propaganda. Yesterday made things very clear to me.

I watch every single game of the Annerley Under 14s, Division 3 team, and follow very closely the fortunes of the Brisbane South Under 14s Division 3 competition. I know every player on the team. Some of them I’ve known since they were toddlers at child care. I’ve coached and managed quite a few of them and before that used to watch many of them play handball and basketball after Primary School every day. I know their strengths and weaknesses, their parents and even some of their personal issues and problems.

Not as good as the Roar? It depends what you mean. The kids never play a cynical game. They go out to score goals. Some of them are genuinely skilled and are not afraid to take crazy risks which occasionally come off. The left winger can chase a through ball past any defender, do a one-two if necessary, and score or direct a pinpoint cross. Is it actually less entertaining than watching Zullo? Frankly, no. The right back is a natural and brilliant defender but also has the unique ability to throw-in a very long way, so that a throw-in near the touch line is as good as a corner kick. Brilliant to watch. About a month ago I watched one of the attacking midfielders, a kid I’ve known since he was born, deflect a corner kick, leg high in the air, off the outside of his foot, into the top right hand corner of the net. If that goal was in the Champions League it would have been replayed to death and posted on U-Tube. Jacob’s own signature move (he usually plays up front this season), which he pulled off twice yesterday, is kicking the ball back over his own head along with a defender, and then recollecting it past the defender. His one goal yesterday was an individual effort, beating two defenders and the goalie.

Sure they stuff up a lot. So do A-League teams. But they get some brilliant passing going too, and not because it has been drilled into them by a coach who has mega-qualifications and experience, but because it’s fun to do so.

So far I have the A-League as having the problem of bad value by which I refer to quality for dollar. There’s much better games for free and only slightly worse games that are live and pretty much free. (Incidentally, I can’t wait for the W-League, which is not much poorer, much cheaper and is on free-to-air TV – I had m0ments last season of wanting to abandon the men and just follow the girls.)

There’s a constructive criticism I need to add. If the A-League could connect with the rest of the enormous soccer community in Australia, as it is fully connected in England and Spain, I think it would inspire many more people, especially participants, who are many and remain the great-untapped. What I mean is that my son’s team can aspire to get into the first division next year or the year after, and one day to play at the highest level of seniors in Brisbane, but not to ever be promoted into the A-League. This might even sound absurd, but it is precisely this joyful absurdity, a source of millions of childhood dreams, that exists in the traditional football countries. A-League teams are constructed exclusively from the top by dealings between rich men. There is no question at all in my mind that there are senior men’s teams in Australia who would out-compete some A-League teams some of the time, but they have no way to aspire to compete in that competition. A system of relegation and promotion, fully connected to the entire football league system throughout the country, is essential in the not-too long term, for this sense of connectedness. You can not develop connectivity culturally before it is the case institutionally.

Honestly, of the two games yesterday, of the two teams I went to follow, of the two leagues of which they were a part, there is absolutely no question about which one I enjoyed more, which one I felt more a part of, which one I am more loyal to.

Incidentally, Annerley Under 14s Division 3 won their game 8:2 (goals, people!). It was the last of the home and away fixtures and next week is their semi-finals. Good luck to them, and with slightly less enthusiasm and commitment, good luck to the Brisbane Roar.

Well it was the bottom of the table clash we’ve been waiting for all season. I walked from the shop, past the Irish Pub on the corner which only had AFL on, and past the two pubs in the mall which also only had AFL on, to the Pig & Whistle on the mall which had AFL on two screens and the A-League on the smallest third screen.

Alone in a corner I sipped my beer and for 20 minutes wondered why the hell I was a Roar fan. If it hadn’t have become “Brisbane Roar”, defecting to Gold Coast United would have been a no-brainer. I love Brisbane, but when it comes to sport I don’t really give a shit about ‘Queensland’. A sporting team should, in my view, represent an actual ants nest, a real community of humans, with a stadium in the middle. And while I was sitting there, watching my team play truly woefully, albeit attempting to play this ‘attacking football’ everyone seems to harp about, I thought, ‘Well, this is my lot. Thick or thin, this is my team. I guess they’ll have glory some time in my life, and other times they’ll probably be at the bottom, but they play for my town, which I live in, work in and love’.

Then Danny scored a cracker. Seconds later I apologised to the table next to me for my spontaneous reaction. They were good humoured about it – actually the smile from the girl was worth it. I was so excited I wandered outside the drinking area for a cigarette when Henrique was brought down and Dijk popped the penalty. 2:0 up, but I’m not really convinced by Dijk’s celebrations. Two goals in two games on paper, but both because he gets to take the penalties, which he didn’t earn, and he still keeps missing his chances from play. And God he’s ugly. Anyway he plays for my team.

I stll thought Melbourne were playing better and not once thought they weren’t still in the game. Just after Hernandez scored (The Roar’s defence up to that point so had that coming) a cop came over. He was a senior constable but I can’t remember his name. I noticed he didn’t look at the AFL screen. “Are you a Roar supporter?” “Aye.” He asked me who’d scored the goals and I told him. He’s from Wales and is a Leeds supporter. “It’s the only team,” he said. Now if that was true it would be a pretty small and uninteresting league, but I learned long ago to never argue with a policeman. Anyway, he wandered past a few times after that and got updates from me. Nice guy.

I’ve found before that when you go out alone to watch a football game you kind of spontaneously meet people who are also interested. It’s a contrast to going out alone to listen to music or trying to get laid, when I inevitably just get lonelier as the night goes on. The other bloke I got chatting to, who came in later, was wearing Celtic gear, a Scot. We reminisced joyfully about the Roar vs Celtic game, and he told me a wonderful story about a home Celtic game vs Liverpool where both groups (is 50,000 still a ‘group’?) sang ‘You’ll never walk alone’. I’m bloody jealous. Frankly I reckon the Roar should consider itself tagged with the Celtic germ and take the song up as our own. There is no greater soccer anthem in the world.

While I was chatting to the cop again Henrique scored his. Now that was quality – neither a somewhat lucky but brilliant bash like Danny’s nor a routine penalty like Dijk’s. A REAL goal. A goal to celebrate. Celebrating it with a yellow card (taking the shirt off) was a bit stupid, but he does have a nice bod – much prettier than Djik.

The mystery, which has almost become mundane, is that in the second half Brisbane actually looked better, but it was Melbourne scoring the goals. If someone has the time please drop me a line and explain to me what it’s all about. You know… soccer, life, whatever. Life is rich with metaphors for explaining soccer.

3:3. Jesus the A-League on this Saturday yielded 11 goals from two games. I don’t even want to talk about the Gold Coast. Frank Farina has put it on public record that he will bare his arse in public if the Gold Coast go through undefeated as Clive Palmer predicted. This is one of the most interesting things Frank has ever said and I almost hope it comes off so Frank is obliged to be so daring. Sorry I keep digressing. 3:3. A deserved draw, in a game of two halves where the teams took turns scoring against the run of play.

PS. I like the yellow nets.

Well this incredibly unprolific blogger couldn’t resist writing about this one. It’s not just the game of course – a Celtic victory over the local Brisbane Roar side 3:0. It was the experience. Haven’t had that much fun at a game for a long time.

I took Jacob of course, and also Dawn, my fiance (I successfully proposed last Sunday), for her first ever soccer game (not including watching me play futsal last Tuesday).

As we approaced the stadium, by train then bus, it was clear that the Celtic support would rival the Roar support. I’m guessing over half of the 31,000 people were Celtic, which is kind of embarrasing but very cool at the same time. Approaching the stadium itself there was colour, bagpipes and chanting hoop-clad yobos. All fun.

Still in the tunnels, the PA began playing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. I thought that was kind of cool, but a bit daggy. Then I started hearing voices – many, many voices – competing with the PA. I ran through the closest entrance and witnessed the entire southern end on their feet belting out the song. Wow! Now that was very, very cool. This crew was, quite frankly, showing the locals how it was done. It was already a brilliant event, indeed a unique cultural experience, and the game hadn’t begun.

Next comes my one complaint. We went up the first set of stairs, along with many others, which stated clearly that they led to “Sections 726-732″ (we were in 731). AT THE TOP was a single security person telling us that this entrance was closed to us. I’m talking seven flights of stairs. Maybe place the guy at the bottom of the stairs? Or maybe a single sign, “Please use another flight of stairs”? As I told the poor guy (who had clearly been given a bum job), this is terrible management. I emphasise again that the stairs were actually correct ones, according to the signs. They did not lead to closed sections, they were just for reasons known only to the management not being used. Anyway, good for the thighs, and a small complaint when compared to the total experience.

This crowd was brilliant. We were at the opposite end to “The Jungle”, where the Celtic hardcore were designated, but we were surrounded on all sides ourselves by Celtic support and wild celtic accents. From our birds-eye view you could see green hoops throughout the stadium. Being above “The Den”, where the Roar loonies are, we could not actually see them, and truly it seemed like a Celtic home crowd. Not flattering for the Roar fans that’s for sure, but bloody brilliant to see and experience.

After the first Celtic goal, I almost hoped the Roar would not score because the cheer would have been embarrassing. I have never heard such a roar from a crowd. I had my Roar scarf on and of course hoped the Roar would not embarass themselves (to be sure, the first 30 minutes looked very competitive), but it was actually difficult to maintain my loyalty. With a crew like this, thousands of miles away from their home, Celtic deserved to win, they almost must win. “You’ll never walk alone” indeed.

About half way through the second half Jacob noticed a Mexican wave getting going, which looked pretty feeble and he noted, “That’s not going to get far.” The stadium was just over half full after all and the season-ticket side was very thinned. How wrong we were! It went around FIVE times and then some, and it quickly became obvious that the momentum was from the huge portion of ‘away’ supporters throughout. I remember when Australia played Paraguay in the same stadium, to a packed house (50,000+) and being so impressed when it nearly went round three times. These guys just know how to party.

And not one but THREE seperate streakers. Talk about a complete package of entertainment.

Yeah, yeah the game was good. Both sides attacked throughout and it was always exciting. Nice to see Robbie Kruse back and he was very impressive for the first half after which he seemed to sort of lose control. Overall I wasn’t embarassed for the boys in haz-chem. Celtic was just too good.

In the throngs back to the station after the game there was some brilliant (and all good-natured) yoboism from the hooped fans, climaxing in a staged group sex session between about five of them in the middle of Caxton St.

Dawn had fun, and not just for the reasons of spectacle, which bodes well for our future marriage. She said she actually found herself ‘rivetted’, and I could see why. As I said, the game wasn’t cagey, but open, attacking and attractive. That’s the way to seduce new fans.

Fantastic day at the football. Thankyou to whichever geniuses managed to organise this one. And, for what it’s worth, and I hope these things have some impact, a Red Card to Racism.

PS. Jacob and I have booked our packages to The World Cup South Africa, paid deposits and, according to the correspondence, have tickets to Australia’s three group games. How cool is that?

My last post, sitting there on top of my blog for months, must maintain the impression that I have dived into a depressive, angry place where soccer is torturous and evil.

It’s only very partly true. I haven’t been writing or thinking deeply about soccer, but I remain addicted to the Roar. I just couldn’t bare going to the game last night however, as if Newcastle had won it would have been too upsetting. Anxiously watching the score on the net, when Griffiths scored I simultaneously groaned and thanked God I wasn’t there. Then Mitchel came on, replacing my second-favourite defender – ok I was curious. The same automatic refresh said “Half Time” as first said “1:1″. Shit, I better get to a screen. But I finished my beer first.

Walked up to the mall and caught the last 20 minutes. The same old frustrating story. The Roar executing attack after attack, coming frustratingly close, missing sitters, Moore heads to the goalie, we’ve seen all this before. An excrutiating draw. I can’t fucking bare it!

But it was a happy ending. They actually scored. 2:1. I love them. All of them. And the Roar women won the Premiership with their win and the Roar youth won their game too. I’m happy ok? Back to work.