The Barcelonas are good at the footballs

While I wasn't able to get my own pictures due to the fact that I was covering the event for two different outlets, I did manage to get more than enough words.

It was a surreal experience dipping into the concrete bowels of the Meadowlands, getting my computer scanned, and then heading up into the hushed corridors of the press box, where some journalists spent more time refreshing the Mets score on their laptops than watching the masterclass unfold beneath them on the crude patchwork turf.

It was a neat reminder of what soccer is fighting with for attention in this country; at least the product on the field was good, wasn't it?

It took the Blaugrana just 24 minutes to canter out to a 3-0 lead, and if it weren't for some schoolyard finishing, they could have gone into halftime with 3 or 4 more. In short, Barcelona were breathtaking, a refreshing contrast to the insipid performances by Everton and West Ham in their own recent US excursions with the new season approaching.

Guardiola put close to a full-strength XI out in the first half, and they ran roughshod over the Red Bulls; Puyol and co were defending on the halfway line as Angel kept getting caught offside with the long ball, and when Barca had the ball, they constantly threatened. Hleb (I hear some UFers booing) was a persistent menace on the right side and worked well with the attack-minded Daniel Alves.

Xavi and Iniesta controlled the midfield with crisp, incisive passing, including Iniesta's perfectly-weighted through ball splitting the defense to give Eto'o the easiest of finishes.

Quick summary of goals:

Barca 1-0 RBNY (Xavi 17") - Alves whipped a cross in from the right, and Xavi met it with a diving header unmarked at the edge of the 6-yard box. Goldthwaite and Parke left him all alone to power it into the top-left corner.

Barca 2-0 RBNY {Eto'o 18") - RBNY lose possession immediately from the restart, Iniesta gathers the ball, advances 10 yards untouched, and threads the ball between Mendes and Parke for Eto'o, who slots it under Conway from the edge of the box.

Barca 3-0 RBNY (Marquez 24") - Short corner on the left from Xavi to Iniesta, and his pacey cross was flicked on by Marquez through Conway's hands. No time to react to the change in direction.

Barca 3-1 RBNY (Stammler 30") - An alarming blunder from Valdes as he let Dave van den Bergh's speculative cross from the left splutter through his hands, giving Stammler the simple tap-in.

Barca 4-1 RBNY (Eto'o 43") - Best goal of the match. Hleb trickery on the right, cuts inside and breezes by two defenders, threads it to Eto'o near the penalty spot. His first touch beats his marker, and with his second, he slides it under the advancing Conway.

HALF-TIME

Barca 4-2 RBNY (Rojas 60") - Another Valdes mistake! Of course he won't be castigated too heavily for it now, but if he's pulling these at the Bernabeu in March, it'll be an entirely different story. A deep, low cross from Parke on the right side skids under his dive, giving Rojas an empty net to drive the ball home.

Barca 5-2 RBNY (Suarez 80") - Puyol, now playing on the wing of all places, pulls a nifty move down the right to feed Suarez for a clinical finish.

Barca 6-2 RBNY (Pedro 85") - Suarez turned provider, beating his man for pace down the right side and cutting the ball back to Pedro on the penalty spot, who curled it inside the right post.

The second half provided a gentler counterpoint to the first as Guardiola made six changes, deputizing all his field marshals with their younger, sprightlier understudies, but the Blaugrana still bossed the tempo of the game even with so many adjustments. Bojan showed flashes of his promise, and Toure Yaya proved more than able in handling the controlling midfield duties. The late Barca goals were more a product of conditioning than inventiveness as the tired Red Bulls team struggled to finish out the game.

The crowd was just a drum-head shy of 40,000 and dominated by Barca fans, and a random count of one corner yielded neutral fans (yes, saw some Chelsea and LFC Torres shirts amid the crowd) than even the Red Bulls faithful. The mind boggles as to why there weren't more! The weather was perfect, and one of the world's best clubs was in town!

Once the whistle mercifully brought the match to a close, we filtered back downstairs into the cavernous corridors at field level and joined in the circus for a while. John Harkes took time away from the air-conditioned microphone room to engage in conversation with cougar-esque groupies, and of course, the obligatory Claudio Reyna sighting just off to the side from the press line. He and Steve Nash were deep in conversation, and it had me wondering: if Nash does put a good chunk of money into MLS somewhere along the line, do you think Reyna will find himself with a swanky job in Nash's organization? It's hard to envision Claudio disappearing from the New York scene, but then again, his retirement wasn't exactly full of happiness and sunshine, was it?

And then, perhaps the most surreal sight of all; Xavi, the tiny Eto'o, and Iniesta, all quickly-showered and anxious to get back on the bus, being frisked and scanned with those metal detector batons that infringe upon you at airports. Even someone's elderly mother was briefly searched and her ID scrutinized as Barcelona tried gamely to head back to the hotel.

I couldn't figure out how this worked: was this the Meadowlands security making sure they didn't steal any memorabilia, or was this Barca security making sure no superfans were able to sneak onto their comfortable coach?

It was a jarring end to the night, but one that made perfect sense. In a way, it was small revenge for the frisking they'd inflicted on the Red Bulls all evening. From there the line for interviews was ponderous and slow, and with all the players and coaches releasing cliches into the night air, it was time to exit.

Read more on "The Barcelonas are good at the footballs"...

Barca's Stroll in the Park

Football may not save lives, stop wars (permanently), or raise the dead, but for an hour last night it did something no less remarkable: it stopped traffic in New York City.

The event was an FC Barcelona "light workout session." As you'll see in the pics, the players had just wanted to go for a run and stretch ahead of tonight's charity event and Wednesday's friendly with the Red Bulls at Giants Stadium. It was all very much under the radar, excepting the 150-deep Catalan press crush, and per UF's resident police source, Sgt. (ret.) Peter Meehan, conceived in the simplest terms: the lads needed a jog, so why not Central Park?

Where would the miracles end? Indeed, for the better part of 15 minutes, at Central Park's North Meadow Park, The Likely Lad and a retired NYPD sergeant enjoyed a chat about the game, the department's barnstorming football division, and even some Major League Soccer.

Sgt. Meehan, a left back on the pitch, at no point threatened to arrest me or issue a citation, and if he had any mind to beat my ass senseless just cos he could, the sarge kept it well concealed-- better, say, than his colleague's pistol. (If there's anything more terrifying than Carles Puyol's face, it's a plainclothes cop with a gun on his hip.)

The festivities began at about 6:15 on the outfield grass of one of the park's western-most softball diamonds. And though it wasn't quite The Beatles on the Roof, the crowd grew as the session went on, and by the time the players were exchanging shirts with the NYPD team, there were a sizable crowd of Barca fans crowding the security perimeter.

The Sarge wouldn't tell me long they'd had to plan, but promised that there was considerable surveillance. If anything happened to one of these guys, he said, "it'd be an international incident." Fair enough, though perhaps a bit overconfident. They had, after all, allowed a known Spurs fan just inches from Thierry Henry.

It may appear that "Titi" is reaching down to sign a football for a young fan, but I assure you that he is in fact stealing the boy's lollipop with his left hand and fondling him with the right. It was an old trick the frenchman learned "with the mister, back in ze Monaco team."

The only people not surprised by the timing/location/general loveliness of the evening were the Catalan press. They, like most of the players, were equally unnerved and confused by the softball game on the adjacent field. What began as curious interest turned to fear after a foul ball scattered a camera crew. Abidal in particular was horrified by the ladies' softball... you'd think he was watching a pack of lemurs feast on babies' feet.

WHERE'S ICHIRO??

"They ran for a bit, stretched too, then Americans chased them up the park!"

A Hard Day's Night

IMPRESSED... (the Sarge and Mr. David Villa, who explained his unauthorized presence behind enemy lines simply, "I'm friends with Xavi!" "Shabby? This is fun." "Yes, Xavi!" "Ok. Smile!"

Doin' it fer the kids

LESS IMPRESSED, CONFUSED?

Mr. David Villa was a sneaky fucker. He was all over the place, even without the precious pass for which I so carefully connived. Below you can see him setting up to drop a bag over Puyol's head.

A bit more background before I dump out the rest of the picture album...

The workout was arranged in concert with the NYPD Soccer club, which travels around the world on their own dime to play games and do humanitarian work. The Sarge was very serious on this point and if you visit their website (linked up top) you can get an idea of the excellent stuff they do.

As a little kicker, the cops even got to "exchange shirts" with the Barca boys and pose for these lovely snaps. The Barca photogs actually put out their butts for this bit. (The Likely Lad was nearly decapitated in the ensuing rush.)
Ok now, I know you stopped reading after the headline, so here's the rest of the art.

The Cops make their approach...

No No No, Zis shirt ees too small. I will bring to Arsene then for dee boyz

A Pair of European Champions...

ALL TOGETHER NOW!

The Layers of Modern Society... Three-deep: The Schmucks (in the background, in centerfield, and me); The Rich Men; The Muscle (paid to keep A & B apart):

Alas, There Will Be Running

Read more on "Barca's Stroll in the Park"...

Showdown in Chinatown, Pt. 1: The Match

All photos by the indomitable Spectator. That dude is poison with the lens.

People hung from the chain-link fences, while a drunk Everton fan perched precariously on an overhanging tree limb and kept yelling the name of Steve McManaman’s high school. It was a frenzy down on Chrystie Street, one that I somehow managed to force my way into.

Through some good fortune, we stumbled upon a couple of press passes for the event, and with a good degree of fatigue and sunstroke, Spectator and I took roost near Hirshey and a whole host of ESPN/MLS/AP employees for the Steve Nash v. Claudio Reyna charity match, the Showdown in Chinatown.

Rhyming name aside, it was a bit of a mess early on, as the crowds lined the outsides of the pitch three and four deep, with people standing on cars, or climbing bushes, or climbing each other, or hanging from street lights and exerting every effort to suspend themselves in their vantage points for the duration of the match.

I showed up 5 minutes before the start, and slowly wrangled my way through the masses at the media entrance in order to get in, making it just before the opening messages from the two captains and their corporate supporters. On my way through the crowds, I heard a million names and rumors mentioned: Altidore, Beckham (boy, I wish), Messi, Kaka, more stars from the NBA. Perhaps Amare was coming? Marion?

The match itself was a joy to watch. As SF from The Offside Rules pointed out, it was "like watching FIFA Street in real life", a sentiment I couldn't argue with. Steve Nash, along with his ridiculously-stacked squad, put on a fun show, as did Reyna's gang of NBA pros and a lad from Chelsea who is much better when he's not under pressure.

After the jump, some more pictures, some more thoughts, and the two teams.

TEAM NASH
---
Steve Nash
Steve McManaman
Raja Bell
Robbie Fowler
"Leandrinho" Barbosa
Thierry Henry
Maurizio Bacci (fashion photographer)
Rob fucking Jones
Simone Sandri (NBA TV)
Venanzio Ciampa (event co-organizer)
Davide Di Malta
Mark Quarino [Ives explains who he is]

TEAM REYNA
---
Claudio Reyna
Baron Davis
Juan Pablo Angel [Keith: don't worry, he was fucking useless and still injured]
Jozy Altidore
Solomon Kalou
Gregg Berhalter
Jason Kidd
Alessandro Nivola
NBA writer Marc Stein
Mike Rodrino
Giovanni Savaresi
Goalie whose name I forget [but played a blinder]

And so we stood, huddled around the edge of the pitch, the atmosphere akin to a viral Nike commercial, watching as the stars put on a masterclass. All their tricks were uncorked time and again, as if the burden of an irate manager had been lifted from their shoulders. In a real match, they'd be berated and hounded for their showboating, but here, the aim was simpler, relaxed, more obvious: entertain.

Simply put, a bunch of athletes free for 90 minutes (yes, they played close to a full 90) to do as they please.

A free-for-all.

And it was absolutely fucking wonderful.

Despite sweating through my work shirt by half-time, there was little to gripe about. The production company responsible for the event hadn't really thought things out too well: aside from the obvious logistical problem of having enough free space around the park for the public to watch, the touchlines were so close against the fences that we ended up squashed back as far as we could go, three-deep ourselves without counting the thick line of spectators outside who were angling for a fleeting moment of unimpeded vision.

The touchlines had press on one side and various VIPs, luminaries, entourage members (including Caron Butler), and children from various after-school programs crammed around the edges. With players sprinting at full-speed from time-to-time, not to mention the wild abandon with which some of them took potshots at the goal, it's a miracle no-one was seriously hurt.

Henry and a few others did end up flying into the crowds throughout the match, and several shots from Nash and co. ended up lashing against the fence, narrowly missing heads, camera equipment, and memorabilia ready to be signed.

One girl did get a ball square in the face, but when it's one of your idols who took the shot, how mad can you really be?

Davis put at least two shots well over the fences and down onto Rivington, as did some of the others, but the balls always came back. This surprised me more than anything.

Seeing Nash assisting Fowler and vice versa became oddly commonplace after a while, but the people who diligently retrieved the balls dispatched to nearby Prince or Greene or Rivington Streets completed the most stunning passes of the whole event.

If it had been me, I'd have been off, disappearing into Chinatown with a shiny silver match ball for my own pick-up games.

Instead, the sun began to ease on our shoulders, and the game flowed smoothly. Rough recap of the goals:

- Kidd square to Kalou, low shot inside the left post. 1-0 TEAM REYNA

- Davis tap-in off the rebound (sounds about right?) as Kalou's shot was saved. 2-0 REYNA

- Henry shot takes awkward bounce off keeper, Berhalter tries to head clear but knocks it back towards his own goal, McManaman tap-in. 2-1 REYNA

- Macca feeds Nash from the right, sharp finish into the top-right corner. 2-2

- Nash shot saved low, Barbosa tap-in. 3-2 NASH

- Nash shot deflected in front of goal, rebound passed to Fowler for the simple tap-in (just like the old days). 4-2 NASH

- PENALTY! Baron Davis handball, reacted by trying to take a jump-shot with the ball in hand. After some theatrics, Henry smashed it home, high into top-left. 5-2 NASH

- PENALTY! Handball on one of the walk-ons whose name I forget, Reyna with the finish low to the right. Titi gets a yellow-card for "dissent". Some things never change. It's those Gallic gesticulations. 5-3 NASH

- The LFC duo link-up, smart, weighted throughball from Macca to GOD, easy finish. Reyna calls for offside... flag stays down. 6-3 NASH

- PENALTY! Another handball from Davis. By this point, he'd truly forgotten which sport he was playing. Idea: same teams playing basketball. Think Macca's got range from behind the arc? Fowler dispatches the PK with ease. 7-3 NASH

- Henry rocket from 18 yards barely kept out [note: TH was holding nothing back in the shooting department], Nash first to the rebound. 8-3 NASH

- Reyna square pass from the left to Kalou, who slides it home inside the right post. 8-4 NASH

- Late tap-in as all the retired athletes struggle to keep pace... Nash rounds things out with a rocket with the right foot. 9-4 NASH

FINAL SCORE: TEAM NASH 9, TEAM REYNA 4

An impressive performance all-round as a lot of the NBA guys had some serious skills. I mean, Barbosa's from Brazil, so you figure he has to have some moves, right?

Henry was a joy to watch.

As much as I despised seeing him score goals with such grace and ease against my lot as he terrorized the EPL for some time, he was on top form yesterday. Of course, it's a charity event, but still: TH dealt with the expectations of the crowd and gave us all exactly what we wanted.

Kalou... well. You'd swear that he was a different player than the one who got mishandled by Avram for most of the season. No pressure, no real defending, but lots of ball skills and pace. If only he was playing on a team that could get the most out of him! Stepovers, backheel flicks, deliberate misdirects on his passing. Absolutely phenomenal stuff.

It was also a treat to see Jozy up close for the first time. Granted, I'm not much of an MLS expert, but I've heard his name and his potential bandied about for a while on the UF email threads, and he's gonna find a lot of love in Villareal if he delivers on half of it. He became rather anonymous in the second half, but he played his part. The sad thing was that, despite the massive crowds and the sheer diversity of everyone gathered, not many people still knew who he was. Give it 3 years, and that should change.

On the other side of the ball, watching Fowler and McManaman together again brought a tear to my dehydrated eyes. They have lost the pace and the stamina, obviously (that's what playing 20 minutes a week for Cardiff City or working the Sky Sports booth with the hirsute Richard Keys will do for you), but they linked up with the same precision and flow as ever. Seriously.

I was screaming like a schoolgirl at their 1-2 passing and unspoken connection on the pitch. Rarely did a pass stray between these two, regardless of who was running where, who was in the way, or how far apart they were. It became a little unfair after a while, as the two would always pass to one another first before moving the ball along (except in the 2nd half when Robbie starting laying it off to Henry as they advanced).

It made me laugh to see Team Nash start with Fowler and Henry, two of the most prolific and beloved strikers in Premiership history, playing in central defense alongside one another. Somewhere, Steve McClaren can breath easy, as there's one manager in the world with less common sense than him.

Barbosa and Bell played well too, as did Nash.

In Steve's case, the skill is there. He could have easily gone pro with soccer if he'd wanted to, perhaps taking the torch of Owen Hargreaves and trying to fudge his way onto a more glamorous national team. However, one can hardly blame him for his decision-making in life, considering where basketball is in the public eye compared to our beloved game. Leandro and Raja made it up as they went along, making the most of their natural athleticism and getting more confident on the ball as the match went on.

Also, full credit to Baron Davis. A guy for whom soccer skills do not come easily. He scrapped around and struggled to find his place in the match, and eventually realized that he was not there for soccer tricks, but for entertainment. Two handballs, including one sublime slap that he tried to blame on the crossbar, one yellow card [amazingly], and one perfectly-executed wrestling takedown on Robbie Fowler.

And finally, we must spare a thought for the goalies. Treated like sacrificial meat to the hungry lions, they took an assault of shots at both ends as players lined up to take shots. Quarino was almost knocked out towards the end as Savaresi let one fly from close-range, knocking the goalie down and leaving him dazed.

Truth be told, we were all dazed by what we saw. When do you ever see events like this?

Read more on "Showdown in Chinatown, Pt. 1: The Match"...

MLS Roundup: I have no idea what I'm talking about

I was all ready to write a witty post about how terrible the Galaxy are going to be this year, in the wake of their 4-nil beating at the hands of Colorado Rapids. But then Goldenballs and Landycakes spoiled my fun by scoring two nifty goals last night against the back-from-the-dead San Jose Earthquakes and ex-manager/scapegoat Frank Yallop. Meanwhile, any praise that the Revolution might have earned by dismantling the defending champion Houston Dynamo was tempered by their dour showing in Chicago last night. Join me after the jump as we draw some ill-informed conclusions based on a tiny sample size.

The La Galaxy were roundly outplayed last weekend at the Dick, with a shambolic defense featuring Abel Xavier. I should point out that the Rapids were missing a good portion of their first team, and Fernando Clavijo is a terrible, terrible manager. He was supposed to be on his way out last year, but seems to have convinced Stan Kroenke to give him a second chance. Then again, Kroenke’s other coaches (Joel Quineville, George Karl) are also quite adept at getting the least amount possible out of the talent they have to work with, so perhaps Clavijo fits right in. I don’t know what to think of the Rapids, but their big offseason strategy of accumulating DC United castoffs seems to be working so far.

The news got even worse when Carlos Ruiz, the most annoying playing in the league, tore up his knee in the dying minutes of the game. Abel Xavier also picked up suspension for a retaliatory tackle (note: may be a good thing). Shaka Hislop, FC Dallas reject who the Guardian has deemed their MLS “expert” for the season, blamed LA’s ridiculous preseason.

The Galaxy were very poor, and a large part of the reason lies with their pre-season schedule, in which they took on as much traveling in a short spell as I've ever known. I was a member of the Newcastle United squad that went to Singapore before the start of the 1996-97 season, and that took a great toll on us. Indeed, that season saw the eventual departure of Kevin Keegan. The Galaxy's big-name players - David Beckham, Landon Donovan and Abel Xavier - will have been affected by the travelling most because they're all getting on a bit. Xavier, in fact, both gave away a penalty - although I have to agree with LA's complaints about that decision - and was sent off for a second bookable offence in the last few minutes when the game took something of a physical turn.

Yep Shaka, that trip to the Far East was definitely the reason that Keegs flamed out at Toon. Not a complete inability to get along with the boardroom, or a terrible run of form. Getting back to the MLS, the other big result from Saturday, the Rev’s beating of Houston, now looks less impressive after last night’s loss. And LA suddenly looks less like a pub team after comprehensively beating San Jose.

But the MLS, with its generous allocation of playoff spots, rewards teams that peak much later in the season. Shitty results in cold April weather are forgotten by the time summer rolls around. Hell, new Red Bulls coach Juan Carlos Osorio is supposedly still looking to buy three players for this season, even though the season starts for them this weekend. MLS rosters are almost always a work in progress for the first part of the season.

So what do we really know after the first couple of games? Fuck all, that’s what. Call me in a month and we can talk.

A footnote: The comments in the above mentioned Guardian post brought out all the tired stereotypes that most people have of the league. They play on fields with lines! The Peruvian second division is higher quality than the MLS! My favorite League 1/League 2/Blue Square North side would dominate the league! Fat Americans don’t understand soccerball!

My response to these people is to actually sit down and watch a game. It won’t kill you, I promise. And you might be surprised at the product on the field. I hear there are great seats available for many Red Bulls games.


A second footnote: Some of us UFers intend to actually, um, go to an MLS game in the near future. We reserve to change our minds and relentlessly slag off on the league if we are unimpressed with the live experience.

[photo credit: LAtimes.com]

Read more on "MLS Roundup: I have no idea what I'm talking about"...