As the Henry business slowly and painfully dies away, I just want to cap off my soccer journalism
post from Wednesday. I finished with offering one or two reasons why the traditional long-form
journo model may in fact not be dead, and speculated on what the introduction of an across the
board pay-wall for newspaper on-line editions would mean.
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So, in the sober light of day, a few things I feel need to be said. Traditionally when people get
hot and bothered about something in football, I try and keep my distance. I didn't this morning,
and so I want to add a few things to my little two-cents.
First, I don't buy the whole "poetry of the injustice of life reflected in sport" business, that
soccer, indeed all of sport, has always been this way, with dives, fouls, goals not given, twas
ever thus and ever shall be, world without end, amen.
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I was reluctant at first to write about this, and everyone from my non-soccer life was soliciting
opinions on Henry's handball against Ireland, but I do have one or two things to say.
I first want to echo Brian Phillips remark yesterday: "Don't call it a "controversial goal." It was
a visibly illegitimate goal.
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Very broad and interesting response to my post yesterday. I just want to speak to some of the
comments I received over the course of the day as I recovered from a nasty sore throat.
First, the post was not a protracted whinge about soccer writing not paying my bills. I know there
is a route whereby money can be made from bloggin' about soccer, and I know several of us have
commandeered that route with great success.
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Sorry for not posting yesterday, my realish job took precedent, and I was still recovering from an
emotional playoff weekend plus news that Real Fucking Salt Lake, those bastards whose goose TFC
were supposed to have cooked back in October as Rollins expertly pointed out yesterday, will be
playing for the MLS Cup.
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Just when I'm trolling around in search of something to care about, along comes Toronto FC COO and
all around fan favourite Paul Beirne tweeting about how he intends to require TFC Academy entrants
to commit to playing for Canada.
Even Duane Rollins points out the Academy couldn't force a player to play for the national outfit
if it came down to that, so ultimately this is just more fan populism, and it seems they're loving
it.
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There's been an interesting exchange on the Canadian soccer front, with Jason de Vos and Paul James
both writing articles about Canadian players who have chosen to play for other national teams, and
Duane Rollins responding in kind.
While this might get me into all sorts of trouble, my own view is that while I am sympathetic to
those who are angry at players like Begovic and Lensky for switching national allegiances at this
late stage, and for misleading Canada fans over their intended decision, I have trouble accepting
that they should play for Canada "no matter what," as in "no matter if the CSA actively supports
both them and the national program in a meaningful way or not.
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I am a pretentious soccer writer, and a lazy one at that, which means I like my football news
monumental and easily digestible.
In Europe, for example, things are easy; Big Four team cheats, post. Club has really stupid,
flamboyantly dressed owner, post. Accusations of bungs, massively indebted teams, bouts of hilarity
as Old Europe slouches toward American-style marketing techniques (crappyproduct.
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Sort of a big week in the Canadian national scene with Stephen Hart slotted as the Real© Head
Coach of the mens squad, but there were some other interesting stories this week.
Like:
- The Toronto Junior Lynx have been rated the number one academy club for the Mid West Region,
making Chicago Fire's academy team look like the feathery little pipsqueaks they are.
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It seemed that every year you'd hear Paul Doyle on the Football Weekly podcast give his Ligue Un
summary with everyone dozing off as he concluded that Lyon were pulling away to win their next
inevitable title even though they'd long been jacked out of the Champions League.
That changed last year, with Bordeaux winning the league, and French football has been on a tear
since.
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Most of you, or perhaps some of you, or maybe none of you, considering what sort of literary
pedigree you'd have to rock to come by here every day looking for something resembling wisdom or
insight, have heard of the late American author David Foster Wallace's thousand page plus tome,
Infinite Jest.
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He headed down the tunnel, avoided a few picture takers, autograph hounds, his own subs wanting to
talk tactics. He signaled to them but avoided conversation, winding his way to an executive office
and finding a private bathroom.
He looked in the mirror. "The fat Spanish waiter." His palms were still sweaty, so he washed them
and then washed his face.
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He had already memorized the team sheet, memorized the formations and counter formations in case
Lyon went a goal up in the first twenty-five minutes, where he would slot Voronin in case the first
Lyon goal came after the first half. But this, different: the sweat on his palms, the trouble he
had gripping his pencil as he jotted notes in the tunnel while Lee said whatever it was he felt
needed to be said to the dressing room.
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You can learn a lot about an organization from the quality of their website. Fair? I for example am
not a design oriented person, although I would like to be. The idea of changing this template for
something unique and original by screwing around with code or risking the download of someone
foreign layout gives me nightmares.
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