This blog began in 2006 as a World Cup journal. It evolved into a travelogue of me adventures supporting the US team. It is now further evolving into a blog on my interactions with soccer, travel and everyday life. Hopefully, you are entertained.
Since last Monday, the weather in Rio has been amazing. It started with an amazing beach day on Finados (the Brazilian holiday to commemorate the day of the dead), and the weather consistently got better. Each morning, the thermometers on the beach would read 31C degrees - about 88F - and they would top out around 36C - around 97F. It's November folks - just the beginning of the summer. Can't wait for those 40C+ beach days in a month or so.
So this weekend my friend Anita came into town. She arrived on Sunday and after dropping her baggage off at the hotel, we met up with a French-Belgian guy she met on the bus as he was headed to Maracanã too. The match this weekend was between Fluminense and Palmeiras. As I have become a firmly entrenched supporter of Flamengo, I could happily root for Fluminense here because Fla is fighting Palmeiras for the Championship.
We meet Christian and his two friends from São Paulo and headed to Porcão - an amazing churrascaria. We had a quick meat fest and then scurried off to the stadium. Anita and I had to separate from our new friends as they had tickets in the upper deck and we could only find ones for the cadeira comum - the seats behind the goal.
The match itself was amazing as Flu, heavy underdogs, took the game to Palmeiras at every chance. They had one goal mistakenly disallowed and Fred knocked in a scrappy header.
As Flu protected their lead and full-time approached, the disbelieving crowd could barley control their emotion. A win would keep their feeble hopes of staving off relegation alive and provide them with some positive reflections after a season spent dwelling in the cellar of the league as they have excelled in the Copa Sudamericana (equivalent of Europa League).
While not matching the intensity of Mengão supporters, the chants of "Nehhhhn-sayyy, Nehhhhn-sayyy" were amazing. An elder gentleman in front of us could hardly contain himself and he started jumping up and down with the exuberance of a 6 year old. I am shocked if he didn't soil himself. Here is a video of him:
WARNING, if crappy videos make you nauseous, skip this. My first attempt at using my iPhone as a video camera. I will get better -
The Flu win over Palmeiras coupled with a Flamengo win and a São Paulo draw midweek has Fla sitting just 2 points behind São Paulo and 1 behind Palmeiras. With 4 matches left, it's anybody's for the taking.
During the meatfest, Anita and I were talking about life. I mentioned to her that it has taken me 30 years to realize how rarely we have days where we get it all right - those days where you wake up the next day and wouldn't change a single thing about the day before. I think those days happen like 5-10 times a year if we're lucky. But those are the days we all want. I am convinced you can't put the pressure on yourself to have those days as their are way too many uncontrolled variables. Instead, you just have to do your best and just accept and laugh off the rest. I likened it to chasing rainbows. It's not every day that you see a rainbow - and their is always something majestic about them. You get lucky when they make an amazing view even that much more amazing.
This is the view that we had when we left Maracaña.
I promised to update this more frequently and I am now going to promise to live up to that promise. Thanks Asher and Mick for reminding me that I am about as worthwhile as Barack Obama these days. Although you guys probably just wanted something to read whilst dropping a deuce, you have re-inspired me. Might as well give me a Webby right now.
What I can tell you is that I have been without a phone since October 12. That will all change tonight when I make my triumphant return to the first world and get back on an iPhone. That means I can post pictures and videos on the fly to this puppy. That much I can promise to do because there are many worthy "sights" in Rio.
So what's this First-World / Fourth-World nonsense you ask? Well, Rio is a very diverse place in all facets of life. At times, things are very First-World (1W) - meaning they are on-par or better than their corollaries in New York City. In stark contrast, there are times when things are more impovershed and make less sense than the way they did in the India I knew 10 years ago - Fourth-World (4W). And then there are plenty of things that fall in between. You guessed it: (2W and 3W).
Full credit for this rating system goes to Ranjan and his Blue-State / Red-State comparisons over on his excellent blog - which also does not get updated with appropriate frequency.
So let's kick this off (albeit a little slowly - twill be much better once I am phone in hand):
Rio de Janeiro Busses: 4W - most of these things are rickety old pieces of solid steel that burn wholes in the Ozone Layer with each press of the gas pedal. I think they do this to help Cariocas work on their tan. Each bus seems to be privately operated so the drivers have an incentive to pack as many people on as possible. This results in people being packed in the aisles and since you enter at the front and exit at the back, you are constantly forced to play a g-rated bout of tummy sticks with countless passengers.
Bus Efficiency: 1W - contrary to the buses and the ettiquete of driving them, the efficiency is amazing. Every driver thinks he (yet to see a female) is a formula 1 pilot (they don't call them drivers). They weave through traffic and have a jam on the breaks at will. I am pretty sure I have been involved in 2 or 3 power slides (not really sure what that is, but Hans used to say this all the time). You can also just flag a bus down in much the same way you would hail a taxi. Great because if there is no hail, the driver is going to fly right past a stop.
In a word, busses are a system of organized chaos. I have found that you can have a great ab workout by standing and trying to balance through the busts lane changes and jarring stops and starts. It's almost like surfing.
I love watching Charlie Davies play. He is a true athlete, he's energetic on the pitch, he plays with great skill and he has the heart of a lion. We all know about the car wreck by now.
Let's show Charlie how much we appreciate and believe in him by pledging to be there the first time he returns to the pitch.
So as any of you can gather from this blog, I have been to many US matches and a fair number of them have been away matches. I went to every US game in World Cup 2002 and 2006 and also the games in Copa America 2007. Something I always wanted to do was to go to an away match with my Dad.
My Dad has been to only one other US match before - a 1-1 draw with Haiti played in the unfriendly confines of the Orange Bowl back in 2005. It was a lackluster match where we were 2 of maybe 20 US fans and I have always wanted to show my Dad what the real support was like. Somehow, I was able to persuade him to come to Azteca with me.
My Dad has traveled a fair bit and after he and my Mom joined me in Spain during the summer, I think he was eager to see and experience more new things. As expected, he did just that.
Because I was flying in from Chicago, and he from South Florida, we met at the airport in Mexico City. I could not find a good meeting point online so I told him to meet my by a restaurant that I remembered eating at in 2005 (Note to all airport administrators out there - update your websites - something that should be universally included is a clear, detailed map that includes designated meeting points). Dad arrived before me and could not locate the restaurant because it had since closed (despite still being listed on the website). So, I began to wander around the airport when I noticed a McDonald's in the offing. Sure enough, Dad thought the same thing . . . Let's meet at mickey D's (no, I did not go there for food).
We easily made our way into the city via the subway (at 2 pesos/15 ¢ per person, the DF subway is the cheapest in the world) and headed straight for the Galleria Plaza Hotel in the Zona Rosa. We dropped off our bags and immediately headed out in search of our first tacos. We then made our way to the ruins of Templo Mayor in the Zocalo to take in a bit of culture before meeting up with many familiar faces.
After the ruins, we returned to the hotel and met up with Superlimey and his wife, Dougie fresh and the ESC/NJB crew. We had a few giant 32-40 oz beers on the roof and then headed out for a dinner where we ran into the Minnesota crew. We also met Ashwin, who is putting this film together which I'm sure it's going to be a fantastic piece:
After dinner was what I was really looking forward to though as we went to Yuppies (horrible, we all know) to meet up with a ton of other US fans including, Bryan and Dante from the Venezuela trip, Mike from WC 2002 and 2006, Scott from Mexico 2005 and countless other matches since and Marco, my buddy who was in my program in Madrid. Awesome time.
Game-day began with a hangover and did not begin ominously as my search for the now customary victory cigars for Ethan and myself went unfulfilled. I could have picked up some Cohibas of questionable authenticity from Sanborne's, but I did not want to start the day by having the Mexicans being one up on me. End result - no cigar (literally and figuratively).
About 75 of us made our way to Azteca on the Metro - Doug captured some great footage of this HERE - and we did not really encounter any problems. We got to the stadium around noon for a 3 pm match so we had plenty of time to sample the delicious fare from the food vendors outside the stadium. Critical miscalculation though in that we did not realize that it is prohibited to drink outside the stadium. 3 hours before kickoff and no beer = me not happy.
As more and more Mexican fans arrived, the atmosphere began to pickup with lots of jeering coming from every direction. The police steered all the US fans toward a corner of the main gate and quickly shuttled us inside so they could keep the more aggressive fans at bay. They marched us around the stadium and into the upper deck where we were immediately greeted with boos and whistles from the 1/4 full stadium.
With over 2 hours till kickoff and 1.5 hours till beer sales began, we kind of sat around and did nothing. Every now and then, for no particular reason, the banter between us and the Mexicans would swell and the whistling and jeering would reach a peak before tapering back down. It was very surreal to be part of this human wave of mutual hate (and don't kid yourself, inside that stadium, there was plenty of hate flowing both ways).
Finally, at 2:30 pm sharp, beer sales commenced and there was something to occupy our time. The beer prices increased from 10 pesos to 30 pesos (though they also doubled in size) but this did not preclude our section from making our beer vendors very happy people again. Another swell of hate arose just as the slew of Americans suckers who opted to purchase their tickets through Ole-Ole.com arrived. These jeers were nothing compared to the reception our national anthem received. This was the first time that I could not hear a single note of our national anthem. Mexico fans, I don't care how you want to defend yourself - that is classless. Your inferiority complex rivals that of Red Sox fans.
Obviously, the match result speaks for itself. What I found interesting is the behavior of the Mexican fans surrounding us. When we scored, they fell silent. After each of their goals, they erupted and started throwing everything imaginable over the 5'2" riot police with full force at our section. Not at any one person in particular - these idiots were trophy hunting. "Let me see if I can hit someone in the face with a full bottle of water, a rock, or maybe even a battery" Complete muppetts. Somebody could have been seriously hurt. Some will say that we should have expected this - that is fucking retarded. This is a sporting event that is heavily regulated by FIFA rules. Somebody needs to turn their eyes to this behavior before it gets out of hand. As they say - it's all fun and games till somebody loses an eye - and that very realistically could have happened.
With about 5 minutes to go, the idiot Mexican police (paging redundancy department) tried to persuade us to leave saying that they couldn't control the Mexican fans after the match. Apparently the stadium administrators have never observed international protocol when it comes to the exit of away fans which long ago settled that all home fans should be dispatched first - and only after the home fans have cleared the are should the visiting fans be released.
No, these Mexican oompah-loompahs cops let us stay till the final whistle blew then promptly marched us out of the stadium. One of the cops didn't take too kindly to the way I spoke to him and wanted to have some words with me. Not wanting to entertain the corrupt idiot, I did what any intelligent person would have done and swapped shirts with Spliff to disguise myself. Worked like a charm and I made it out of the stadium A-OK. Dad was covered in beer and other liquids of questionable origin.
The cops led us on a Bataan Death March through a gauntlet of Mexican fans waiting to taunt us. Many of them were trying to instigate a fight by reaching over the useless efforts of the police and touching our heads. One idiot grabbed Tom Fina's hat off of my head. However, nothing we had faced was as dangerous as the brick-sized blocks of ice being lofted on top of us from multiple directions. Had this happened in the US, the cops would have responded in overwhelming force and pulverized the perps. Not in Mexico . . .
The cops eventually corralled everyone into a few paddy-wagons to take the US fans to a subway line that was not connected to the stadium so that everyone could get back to town safely. Not wanting to make it easier for the idiot cop to spot me, I dropped off from the group and grabbed a ride from some Mexican fans driving back towards the center. Their seats were in the lower bowl. They were genuinely nice - sharing beer and food with me. They did not resemble the idiots we were placed near at all. Thanks FEMEXFUT.
Anyway, I made it back to the hotel and was showered and changed before anyone else made it back. We celebrated our survival and first lead in Azteca with many a shot of tequilla. Dougie, Ashwin and I headed out late night to check out the clubs but were too tired to deal with it. A day well spent.
The next day, Dad and I went out to Teotihuacan - an amazing site.
All in all, a worthwhile trip. Mexico, we will come back and beat you there one day. I will keep coming back until we do. I love your culture, your food, your music . . . your people. But when the US plays Mexico, I hope we kick the piss out of you every time.
An interesting thing at the airport on the way out . . . we had to pass in front of a full-body thermal scanner for a H1N1 check. Good thing tequilla sweats don't register.
Hmmm . . . It has been almost 1 year since I last blogged. There is a reason for that . . . the fooligan left the building. Well, the fooligan is back. Not really back, but at least back on the blog.
After going to every single qualifier in 2008 and a couple friendlies to boot, I dropped my plans to make it to every qualifier in a cycle. I have only been to one match this year! You know it, it was Azteca.
So what happened? Well, I left my job in New York and decided to pursue a passion . . . which predictably involves soccer. I returned to the classroom in pursuit of an LL.M in International Sports Law in Madrid, Spain. Leaving my life was a shock to the senses, as was leaving so many friends behind. However, it created the opportunity to make new friends from all over the world and to gain another perspective during this period of "change."
It also offered the opportunity to take the fooligan show on the road. A group of classmates and I were able to purchase an abono (pass) for the remainder of the temporada (season) for Atlético de Madrid. Not only was this great value (130 euros for 10 matches), but we were able to see some amazing matches - Atléti-Barca, Atléti-Valencia, Atléti-Villareal . . .
What made it extra-special was the amazing and exhillirating play of el uruguayo, Diego Forlán. Despite doing Liverpool for 2 goals when he was with the scum, Forlán, is one of my favorite players of all time because he is a constant threat and runs his ass off. You never see him taking a dive and he is more than willing to track back when needed. The combination of Forlán and Kun Agüero along with Atléti's incompetent defending ensured that each match was a nail-biter. The amazing atmosphere at the Vicente Calderón has inspired a true bond between me and the colchoneros.
While in Madrid, I also took the opportunity to see Real Madrid play at home thrice (though, stupidly, I was too cheap to spring for the stunner when Liverpool knocked off Real at home thanks to Yossi Benayoun's improbable header). The Kuschman and I took in the crosstown derby which saw Atléti cruelly be held to a draw (1-1). Kuschman and I then waited in line for 5 hours to get tickets to El Clásico in which Barcelona delivered one of the most dominating performances I have ever seen when they knocked off Real 6-2. Finally, Diane, Beth and I took in the 3-1 thrashing delivered at the hands of Mallorca which saw Cléber expose everything that was wrong with Real with a ridiculous golazo.
All in all, Real were terrible and their fans were worse. A bunch of fickle whiners who seemed more akin to Atlanta Braves fans (sorry Lloyd) than futbol fans. Atléti on the other hand offered up some exciting futbol and the fans are top class. The highlight for me was during the match against Barca and every single person in the Calderón was chanting "Muerta Dani, Muerta!" (Die Dani, Die) after Dani Alves exaggerated an injury.
We also got to see Spain take on Turkey in a World Cup Qualifier. 15 Euros for a great seat in the Santiago Bernabeu. How much are tickets to our WCQs again?
Anyway, my time in Spain was amazing and unforgettable. After being there for 6 months, I returned to the US and moved to Chicago for a couple months. Great city in the summer (I'll withhold my comments about the rest of the year).
I also got to make the trek down to Azteca with my Dad, which was an amazing experience that is worthy of its own post entirely (coming tomorrow, I swear, already have it written - just want to add some photos).
Now, I am working and living down in Rio de Janeiro. I know, I am one lucky sonofabitch. I love it here. Estou aprendendo portugués e surfar tambem. (I'm learning portuguese and how to surf). Moro quatro quadras da praia no Leblon. (I live 4 blocks from the beach in Leblon) The scenery is amazing and inspiring everyday. When I run on the beach, I run right past the canal that flows through the Jardim da Allah and have a ridiculous view of Corcovado and Cristo.
The other day, I went to the Maracanã for the Flamengo-Fluminense match and that is what really inspired me to revive this blog. The atmosphere there was the best I have ever witnessed and it got me thinking, hey, I am still fooliganing it up, why not keep blogging. Anyway, I will put up a short post on this as well with pictures and some videos.
The match at Maracanã got me thinking though. In 2009, I will have been inside the Vicente Calderón, the Santiago Bernabeu, the Camp Nou, the Azteca, the Maracaná, and in 10 days, the Bombanera. That is 6 veritable temples of football in one year. Yes, the fooligan in me is alive and well.
APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAYS. TOMORROW WILL FEATURE A POST ON DC, FOLLOWED BY A POST ON PORT OF SPAIN BY WEEK'S END.
Stardate: September 10, 2008.
After returning from a trip south of the border to enjoy some R&R in Cancun with 4 of mis amigos, I headed over to the Windy City to take in the USA's first match against Trinidad. At this point, we were sitting in good position with 6 points but were still a little uneasy having earned those points from two hard fought 1-0 road victories. On the one hand, it was encouraging to see our maiden wins in Guatemala and Cuba; though on the other, it was disconcerting to see us really impose our will on our lesser skilled opponents. Some were critical of Bob Bradley at this point for sticking to somewhat defensive tactics, but I think all would agree that the most important task for this team is to qualify for the World Cup 2010, not to hand out drubbings to the "minnows" of CONCACAF.
Upon arriving in Chicago, I hopped on the L and headed over to the Globe Pub to catch up with some of the North Jersey Brigade. For those that haven't been, the Globe Pub is definitely one of the best soccer bars in the US and a great place to take in a match if you can't make it to the stadium.
After a couple pints and a quick bite, ethan and I headed over to Boundary Bar where we were meeting the rest of the crew for some pre-match drinking before boarding our Party Short Bus to the match. As always, the lineup consisted of a solid mix of match veterans and rookies. The veterans included hans, roger, kotas, erin, mike, bobby, and ethan. The match itself was at Toyota Park, the home of the Chicago Fire. Toyota Park is an awesome stadium but is out in Bridgeview which is decidedly not awesome. For the record, there is no better mode of transport to and from matches than by taking a Party Bus. This version was a converted short bus that featured not one, but two stripper poles - though one was clearly designed for people who have a similar taste in women (read: young boys) as Michael Jackson.
Following a quick pit and pee-stop (the entire bus stopped to pee inside and outside of a gas station), our bus driver dropped us off on the wrong side of the stadium so we had to Bataan death march it over to the tailgate with a giant tin bucket of beer. Fortunately for me, I was able to use my "organizer" status to avoid having to carry the beer. So . . . thanks guys, but I'm much better at drinking the stuff than carrying it anyway. At the tailgate, we mett up with Amy from Detroit and Rob, Marcel and Jay from DC, and of course the ESC and NJB.
Although the match drew only a meager 11,000+ for the midweek, suburban game, the crowd proved my long held belief that so long as the ESC and NJB are in the house, we'll have a wild atmosphere. I want to take this opportunity to thank the 10 or so random people who provided me with beers throughout the match. I was housed by about the 32nd minute. The team responded to the crowd's efforts and uhh, Trinidad's utter lack of desire, and the score should have been 6-0 inside of 15 minutes. Final score - 3-0. Well in boys. My new strategy of introducing myself to stadium security prior to the match paid off as security allowed erin's buddy to stay in the stadium and watch the match despite the fact that he was tossing his cookies everywhere. The fans responded to the team's efforts by keeping the "Oh USA!" song going for the last 15 minutes. Even Frankie Hejduk joined in on the tune from the bench.
Post-match, our sticks were scattered all over the yard as we all scrambled to find the party bus. My being housed did not help to quell the brewing clusterF but somehow we all managed to make it back to the bus, which was conveniently parked at a Mexican fast food joint. We continued the celebrations on the bus on the way back to Boundary with some vodka, well, all of us except for Rookie Matt, who celebrated by just straight passing out.
The 24 hour trip to the Windy proved to be extra worth it as some of us were able to get reacquainted, maybe a little too reacquainted for the province of friends and in certain cases, family, but hey . . .
Here are some photos from the party bus and Boundary post-match:
Ever since I read the post I put up from the car on the way to Lago de Atitlan the other day, I have been having flashbacks of so many details that need to be mentioned.
Just before kickoff, I leaned up against the fence to our left that separated the US Section from throngs of some very passionate and somewhat vicious Guatemalan supporters. I was attempting to have my picture taken with a Guatemalan fan with a flag when a couple other Guatemalan fans started pulling my flag through the fence. THAT WAS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. The flag I bring with me to every game has actually been with me to every game I've ever been to (save the US-Haiti game in Miami a few years ago). There was no way some dirtbag was going to take it from me. It turned in to a tug of war and there was no way I was letting it go.
During the game, some old dude who worked for the embassy who looked like Colonel Sanders admonished me for not being very "sporting." I laughed at him and advised him to sit down. Seriously, this d-bag is supposed to be part of our diplomatic mission yet he has no understanding of the local culture? Best part about this was that his young daughter got hit in the neck with a flying chicken bone after the match.
The guy who got his ass beat by his mates was going back and forth with Kevin all match long. Kevin repeatedly told the dude he was going to make him his wife and blew him several kisses. It was priceless.
Okay, here are the pictures from the match:
MORE PICS TO COME FROM OUR TRIP TO LAGO DE ATITLAN.
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