Brace yourselves for a rare Saturday post. It's warranted today.
And let's hope and pray that tomorrow night's 'The Wire' series finale is as gripping an entertaining as Saturday's slate of football from England. It's a safe bet that Rio Ferdinand won't be tending goal on the mean streets of Baltimore.
To begin, as long stated for an American it's one thing to follow a foreign league. Stuff like promotion and relegation is a welcome change for the boring, structure that gives FDR-era thinking handouts to the dregs of the league. (i.e. No. 1 draft picks.)
On the other hand, as a foreigner its difficult to get wrapped up in stuff like the FA Cup. It's inertly English, like blood sausage, Robbie Williams and happy slapping. Yes, all the pundits talk about the David v. Goliath scenarios, but the fact remains the last five winners have been members of the "Big Four". (Arsenal twice, Manchester United, Liverpool and Chelsea.)
Perhaps my opinion changed -- a lot.
Watching Barnsley (who, what, gwah?!) shock holders Chelsea 1-0 was an absolutely captivating and riveting game. So what if I couldn't locate Barnsley on a map. Or that the club's badge vaguely resembles a couple Village People rejects. (Goalie Luke Steele, stolen from the ranks of porn?) When the Tykes went ahead in the 67th minute on a goal by Nigerian Kayode Odejayi it was impossible to take my eyes off the game.
Never mind the fact that Chelsea is simply the most unlikeable team in the upper echelon of world football. Never mind that Michael Ballack's weekly hair gel bill or Andriy Shevchenko's wife's monthly allowance, surpasses the entire Barnsley wage bill. Or the fact that Avram Grant rested Frank Lampard and Didier Drogba. (Claudio Pizzarro, really dude?)
This was a millionaires club upset by a bunch of nobody's in an nondescript corner of the globe -- a place where I wish I could have teleported and rushed the field to politely shake manager Simon Davey's hand.
This was Appalachian State defeating Michigan in NCAA football on steroids.
I could have only imagined how long those final 20+ minutes must have felt for the Barnsley faithful. This is probably the most underrated aspect of soccer, which most Americans miss. Those nervy minutes in an important game when your side is either hanging on for dear life or trying to find a last gasp goal are nearly unparalleled. The drama. The tension. It's all so delicious.
And for those 20+ minutes it felt all but assured until the final whistle that Chelsea was going to net the equaliser. Couldn't you see it? A ball ping-ponging off three guys and getting past a helpless Steele? Or worse -- an own goal?
No, for once God (presuming he/it cares about such matters and let's face it, who'd want to pray to a deity that supports Chelski?) pulled one for the little guy.
Call me crazy, but with all the heavyweights knocked out of the competition and the only Premiership teams surviving Portsmouth and Middlesbrough this is an FA Cup I might actually care about.
Concerning -- Earlier in the day I endured the Blackburn Rovers/Fulham 1-1 draw at Ewood Park. A pretty nothing result, though Jimmy Bullard had a marvelous freekick that got Fulham a point, but still left them six points from safety -- with all their immediate relegation rivals owning a game in hand.
The importance in this game was that an American audience on FSC got their first extended chance to watch Eddie Johnson playing in the Premier League. After a couple apperances on the right wing, the US International got a start -- by himself -- at forward.
As no surprise, his pace troubled the Blackburn defenders -- Christopher Samba and Zurab Khizanishvili -- but as usual his finishing left a lot to be desired. Samba's physicality took Johnson away from a bunch of chances, and Johnson against type looked to go to ground to try to draw some calls.
To his credit, Johnson had one nice sequence with a couple step-overs, but his shot hit the post.
At least he acquitted himself better than Clint Dempsey, who's losing his shine quicker than Lindsay Lohan. (From a box office standpoint, at least.) The Texan came off midway through the second half after doing approximately two things -- jack and spit. Unlike previous weeks, Dempsey played more of a midfield role and was bottled up by Steven Reid and Tugay, who happens to be the oldest player in the Premiership.
There's no sense to go crazy with a sky is falling approach, but for two of the presumed main cogs for the 2010 World Cup effort for the USMNT to be shut down by some average to above-average players doesn't exactly rouse the spirits.
At least on this day, Barnsley did, you feel me?
And let's hope and pray that tomorrow night's 'The Wire' series finale is as gripping an entertaining as Saturday's slate of football from England. It's a safe bet that Rio Ferdinand won't be tending goal on the mean streets of Baltimore.
To begin, as long stated for an American it's one thing to follow a foreign league. Stuff like promotion and relegation is a welcome change for the boring, structure that gives FDR-era thinking handouts to the dregs of the league. (i.e. No. 1 draft picks.)
On the other hand, as a foreigner its difficult to get wrapped up in stuff like the FA Cup. It's inertly English, like blood sausage, Robbie Williams and happy slapping. Yes, all the pundits talk about the David v. Goliath scenarios, but the fact remains the last five winners have been members of the "Big Four". (Arsenal twice, Manchester United, Liverpool and Chelsea.)
Perhaps my opinion changed -- a lot.
Watching Barnsley (who, what, gwah?!) shock holders Chelsea 1-0 was an absolutely captivating and riveting game. So what if I couldn't locate Barnsley on a map. Or that the club's badge vaguely resembles a couple Village People rejects. (Goalie Luke Steele, stolen from the ranks of porn?) When the Tykes went ahead in the 67th minute on a goal by Nigerian Kayode Odejayi it was impossible to take my eyes off the game.
Never mind the fact that Chelsea is simply the most unlikeable team in the upper echelon of world football. Never mind that Michael Ballack's weekly hair gel bill or Andriy Shevchenko's wife's monthly allowance, surpasses the entire Barnsley wage bill. Or the fact that Avram Grant rested Frank Lampard and Didier Drogba. (Claudio Pizzarro, really dude?)
This was a millionaires club upset by a bunch of nobody's in an nondescript corner of the globe -- a place where I wish I could have teleported and rushed the field to politely shake manager Simon Davey's hand.
This was Appalachian State defeating Michigan in NCAA football on steroids.
I could have only imagined how long those final 20+ minutes must have felt for the Barnsley faithful. This is probably the most underrated aspect of soccer, which most Americans miss. Those nervy minutes in an important game when your side is either hanging on for dear life or trying to find a last gasp goal are nearly unparalleled. The drama. The tension. It's all so delicious.
And for those 20+ minutes it felt all but assured until the final whistle that Chelsea was going to net the equaliser. Couldn't you see it? A ball ping-ponging off three guys and getting past a helpless Steele? Or worse -- an own goal?
No, for once God (presuming he/it cares about such matters and let's face it, who'd want to pray to a deity that supports Chelski?) pulled one for the little guy.
Call me crazy, but with all the heavyweights knocked out of the competition and the only Premiership teams surviving Portsmouth and Middlesbrough this is an FA Cup I might actually care about.
Concerning -- Earlier in the day I endured the Blackburn Rovers/Fulham 1-1 draw at Ewood Park. A pretty nothing result, though Jimmy Bullard had a marvelous freekick that got Fulham a point, but still left them six points from safety -- with all their immediate relegation rivals owning a game in hand.
The importance in this game was that an American audience on FSC got their first extended chance to watch Eddie Johnson playing in the Premier League. After a couple apperances on the right wing, the US International got a start -- by himself -- at forward.
As no surprise, his pace troubled the Blackburn defenders -- Christopher Samba and Zurab Khizanishvili -- but as usual his finishing left a lot to be desired. Samba's physicality took Johnson away from a bunch of chances, and Johnson against type looked to go to ground to try to draw some calls.
To his credit, Johnson had one nice sequence with a couple step-overs, but his shot hit the post.
At least he acquitted himself better than Clint Dempsey, who's losing his shine quicker than Lindsay Lohan. (From a box office standpoint, at least.) The Texan came off midway through the second half after doing approximately two things -- jack and spit. Unlike previous weeks, Dempsey played more of a midfield role and was bottled up by Steven Reid and Tugay, who happens to be the oldest player in the Premiership.
There's no sense to go crazy with a sky is falling approach, but for two of the presumed main cogs for the 2010 World Cup effort for the USMNT to be shut down by some average to above-average players doesn't exactly rouse the spirits.
At least on this day, Barnsley did, you feel me?
Labels: Chelsea, Eddie Johnson, FA Cup, Premier League, Soccer, USMNT
Word association: Newcastle....
Freefall, shambles, gutless, horrible.
They are 11 cardboard cut-outs right now.
"Those nervy minutes in an important game when your side is either hanging on for dear life or trying to find a last gasp goal are nearly unparalleled. The drama. The tension. It's all so delicious."
Sounds like an apt description of the Stanley Cup Playoffs to me.