A letter from the Captain

I woke up the other morning, fixed myself a bucket of coffee, just another Wednesday in the life, until I found this brilliant unprompted missive from the Captain in my inbox. Here it is for your enjoyment (edit – with video added):

I was watching the EPL review show this weekend (had a wedding and missed all the games), and I witnessed something that just made me feel, well, strange. I was enveloped by an overwhelming lack of familiarity and it was quite disconcerting. I’m going through a lot right now: no real home, living in Mass and NYC, soon no job, school; it could be any number of things causing me some kind of misplaced anxiety, manifesting itself during what should be a moment of relaxation. I’m watching sports and I’m half in the bag; this is normally butter! What is it? As I place my half-full Bud Heavy to my lips, it hits me: I FEEL LIKE AN AMERICAN. I feel like someone watching a sport primarily viewed by people residing in countries many, many more centuries older than mine (I say “many, many” ’cause I don’t really know how many). Not only are Europeans more experienced in class and etiquette, but also in anger and violence. These people can have a senseless riot where reason and human rights go right out the window, but then apologize and JUSTIFY it all in the same breath. Impressive stuff.

Anyhow, the moment in question where the weight of my culture came bearing down on me was (and I’m sure you saw this), when Adebayor scored for Man City against Arsenal. Adebayor, after banging home a solid header past Almunia, sprinted the length of the pitch and did about a twenty foot victory slide ending triumphantly in front of the away fans from London. Well, bedlam doesn’t quite describe how the Gunner fans reacted. Let’s use an American term: Batshit fucking nuts! Not only did the try to kill Adebayor, or any reachable Man City fan on the other side of the away fans’ barrier, they tried to kill each other. The report is several Arsenal fans sustained minor bumps and bruises along with a security guard knocked unconscious. Adebayor only suffered a bit of Carling to his dome. He’ll be just fine. Physically. Though, from what I’m reading, he’s facing quite an occupational hazard: a hefty fine and possible suspension!

Barca and Inter, Live at the San Siro

Lots to chew on here. Ibrahimovich v. Eto’o. Mourinho v. Guardiola. Two teams good enough to win the Champions League. The outcome wont matter much this early in the season, but it should be fun to watch. Especially on Fox Sports Espanol, especially if we get a golazo.

Lets see how this whole live-blog thing works out.

Brewskeeball and a Bar Full of Aces

Part 1

Over the years, I’ve found that often the best way to find a good thing is by accident.  In upstate New York, I found what would become my favorite diner simply because I ran out of gas a half mile away from it.  In D.C ., I stumbled into an amazing burrito joint only because my bladder was about to explode.  In Wyoming, I found the state’s best hot chocolate at a gas station because I forgot my gloves and my hands were verging on frostbite.  Destiny, it seems, has a way of helping us find exactly what we’re looking for. And the other day in New York City, it just might have led me to my greatest discovery to date.

Fantasy Football: Meet the Coach

Exclusive to The Moral Victory.

Coach Ferrari poured himself a 3rd glass of Grants. Outside of his predilection for moderately priced scotch and hasty waiver gambles, I knew little of the man when my editor gave me the assignment of profiling him for the season.

The interview up to this point had been cordial, friendly even. However, when I started to question his draft strategy his demeanor turned cold and he topped off his glass.

“Mike Turner was the guy I wanted from the start. We got lucky with the draft order and got our man. He’s got durability and class, and we think he’s the best back in the world.”

“Some have criticized the risk you took in the 2nd round selecting Kurt Warner to lead the offense, then compounding that risk by taking Anquan Boldin in the 3rd. Does the fate of your team rest on Warner’s gossamer-strength shoulders?”

“Yes, I suppose. But I’ve wasted too many years with guys like Hasselbeck and Cutler dragging mediocrity onto the field in my name. The way we saw it, Warner was the last top tier guy left, so we took the chance.”

“Your depth is being questioned with rookies Knowshon Moreno, Donald Brown, and Hakeem Nicks all in line for meaningful minutes. Does this worry you?”

“We like what Don Brown brings. We think he could be the Matt Forte of 2009. I’ve got mixed feelings on Moreno but we’ve already got other coaches trying to trade for him. Nicks will have to show us something right away, but he’s had a nice little preseason. If we can make a move for a veteran wide-out, we probably will.”

“The North division is being called the toughest in the conference. Where do you think you’ll finish?”

“Coach Fisher is always competitive, he just gets it done. Coach RJ had himself a nice draft and he’s gonna win a lot of games. Coach Looney, on the other hand, well, we heard he fell asleep during the draft. Overconfidence, or just too much vodka on a hot Tempe night? I heard he’s been mixing it up with Andy Reid’s kids. That’s bad news. Tough division, but we like to think we’ll be in the mix.”

posted by Peter

The Mets, The Phillies, The Horror

When Keith Hernandez starts talking about food in the 3rd inning, you know it’s been a lousy game. There were 5 errors in today’s forgettable Mets loss to the Phillies, the 68th of a season filled with absurd ones.

This is the 2009 Mets, defined by epic lameness and an ability to find novel, exciting ways to lose. Ryan Church missing 3rd base in the 11th; Luis Castillo dropping Alex Rodriquez’s walk-off pop-up; Eric Bruntlett ending yesterday’s Mets comeback with an unassisted triple play.

The symbolic image of the 2009 Mets fan experience came today at a Citi Field stained with Phillies red. Gary Sheffield dropped a fly ball in left. One fan in blue, with hands on his head, one fan in red, hands to the sky. Keith asked the director to show the crowd shot again and again, entranced by the subtext of the scene.

posted by Peter

USMNT sacrificed to the gods live on Mun2

Excerpt from:

Narrative of Some Things of New Spain

Written by a Companion of Hernan Cortes, The Anonymous Conqueror.

CHAPTER XV: OF THE SACRIFICES

On the holy day of the World Cup Qualifier, the people worshiped Huitzilopochtli, tribal god and a legendary wizard of the Aztecs. In a constant struggle with the darkness [editor’s note: darkness interpreted to mean 4th place in the hexagonal], Huitzilopochtli demanded nourishment in the form of sacrifices. They take them who have to be sacrificed, and first they march them to the field, with great festivities and rejoicing. One among the eleven, Charlie Davies, dared strike at the heart of El Tri, momentarily raising the chance of escape from certain fate. The warrior was tackled and grabbed by the neck, his fate postponed by the interruption of another sacrificial, Tim Howard. The Panamanian high priest overseeing the affair quickly regained order, pummeling the American victims with yellow cards. Mighty Miguel Sabah then stuck the killing blow, cutting out the hearts of the victims with a vuvuzela made of obsidian. Azteca erupted and gave praise.

posted by Peter