The most interesting article I came across this week is an in-depth rumination on why soccer has lost its historical left-leaning political tendencies. Writing in the Guardian, Barney Ronay’s column, headlined Anyone Want to Play on the Left?, charts the course of the game from its working class roots (“Historically, football’s politics, such as they are, have tended to loiter on the left wing.”) to its state today (“A Premiership socialist? It might not even be possible.”).

Ashley “Cashley” Cole: Not a socialist

Ronay points out that while there are isolated incidents of left-leaning football sentiment (did you know that Wigan manager Paul Jewell has a tortoise named Trotsky?), they are a long way off from the time when Bill Shankly easily espoused his football/economic philosophy based on socialist ideals. “Just take a look at the Premiership,” writes Ronay, “to find out what 15 years of hot-housed free-market economics looks like.” For those interested in the intersection between soccer and politics, this article is a must read.

Soccer and politics may not often overtly mix today, but they have in the past. I have written previously about the nomadic past of Israel’s national team (they have been moved from different confederations in order to avoid politically sticky encounters against, say, Iran). This week came further details about the antipathy of some countries toward Israel’s national team. In an article about Jews in Iran (a fascinating topic on its own), Scott Peterson of the Christian Science Monitor writes about the role of soccer in fomenting dislike of the Jewish state prior to the Iranian Revolution.

During the Asian Cup final in 1968 (which Iran won, 2-1) Iranian fans wore eye patches and chanted abusive slogans, to mock the Israeli defense chief Moshe Dayan. According to published reminiscences, “some homes of Jews in Tehran were attacked and set on fire.”

In a match-up between Iran and Israel in the final of the 1974 Asian Games in Tehran, protesters against Israel, members of then-shadowy Islamic groups, prepared to attack the Israeli soccer team.

“Our aim and dream,” recalls Ezat Shahi, identified as a “revolutionary fighter” in recently published memoirs, “was to create an event similar to the 1972 Munich Olympics, when the Israeli team was taken hostage by Palestinian gunmen from “Black September,” in a standoff that left 11 Israeli athletes dead.

Security measures forced protesters to scale back those plans, but rioting broke out that night.

“On that night, [the authorities] couldn’t prevent people from doing what they wanted,” says a witness who asked not to be named. “As soon as Israel expanded its power [in the 1967 war] and oppressed the Palestinians, even the liberal part of Iranian society started to call them Zionists.” Those flames, encouraged by Islamist groups that would play a key role in the 1979 revolution, helped define the Islamic Republic’s opposition to Israel …”

I have also written previously on Argentina’s obsession with Diego Maradona. This week, an article in Argentine newspaper Clarí­n discusses the rise of weekly rumors of Diego’s death. “Rumors of Maradona’s death,” says the newspaper, “are slowly becoming an Argentine tradition.” The writer speculates that the rumors are the result of two things: 1) Argentina’s past, in the public developed suspicion of “facts” written by a media largely controlled by less-than-truthful dictators and 2) a ploy (it doesn’t say who might be behind it) to prepare the Argentine people for Maradona’s death. The writer compares the situation to that of Fidel Castro and suggests that powers behind the scenes in both countries are spreading rumors to prepare the people for the deaths of national icons.

I am very interested in the role of soccer among immigrant communities. Being an American, I am most familiar with this phenomenon in the US, but of course it exists throughout the world. This week came an interesting story which focused on the importance of soccer in the lives of African refugees in Australia. The article focuses on two players, Remzi Dermele and Salah Musa, both originally from Eritrea who have settled in Melbourne.

Remzi Dermele and friends play the beautiful game

Says Mia Bromley, director of YMCA youth services in the area, about Dermele and Musa, “[Soccer is] all they want to do. It’s what they think about. It’s what they dream about. It’s what they talk about. It’s everything.” Bromley contrasts the boys’ passion with that of many residents of their Australian city: “Footy [Australian rules football] may rule elsewhere in Melbourne. Here soccer is everything.” Hmm … an English-speaking country whose variant on rugby has become extremely popular but is increasingly challenged by immigrants who play soccer? Sounds very familiar.

Johann Cruyff is one of the best players ever, referred to as JC in his native Holland and El Salvador (“the savior”) in his adopted Barcelona. Cruyff gained much of this admiration both for his sporting skills, but also for his unique convictions. He is a believer in playing soccer the “right” way (read, an attacking, attractive style with wingers). Cruyff also has developed a cult following as pseudo-philosophical genius. A book published translated into English in 1999 called Ajax Barcelona Cruyff: The ABC of an Obstinate Maestro is simply a set of extended interviews done by two Dutch journalists with Holland’s most famous soccer star.

This week, the Netherlands World Cup Blog documented the linguistic eccentricites of Cruyff. On the occasion of Cruyff’s 60th birthday, a blogger named Jan describes the way the Dutch master has used and shaped language throughout his career. Cruyff, Jan writes, “has become a subject for liguists and social-anthropolists [sic].” Jan gives examples of how the unique way Cruyff uses language has shaped the way others speak. Cruyff has introduced new phrases to Spanish (like many learning a new language, he directly translated a saying from his native tongue, but unlike most, his misuse was adopted by the general public).

Cruyff also uses language in a creative way to express his unique philosophical convictions. Jan writes that a business book has been published on the “wisdom” of Johan Cruyff. One example of Cruyff’s wisdom (there are many, many more on the original post): “Before I make a mistake, I see it coming and then don’t make it.”

A striking picture from the New York Times this week in an article that discusses the effects of the increasing number of security walls being built around Baghdad. Let’s hope they keep children like this safe from harm, but I suspect that walls will not stop the bloodshed that is currently taking place in that country.

And a few quick hits to finish off:

• If you speak Spanish (or want an excuse to read the gibberish produced by online translators), the Spanish newspaper El Paí­s had a remembrance of William McCrum, the inventor of the penalty kick.

• Nicolas Sarkozy, the conservative presidential candidate in France, recently won the first round of voting. Now he and rival Segolene Royal are wooing those who didn’t make the final round, including centrist Francois Bayrou. Though Bayrou has not officially endorsed a candidate, he seems to be leaning towards Royal. Angered by this, Sarkozy used a soccer analogy to attempt to ward off the threat of a potential Royal-Bayrou partnership, which would almost surely win the election. Said Sarkozy, “We’ve never seen a World Cup final where it is the teams who came third and fourth that are demanding to play the final. That is called disputing people’s choice. The presidential election is not the business of the political parties, it is the business of the French people.”

• And to maintain the one-week old tradition of finishing off with a bizarre sport not at all related to soccer, the New York Times this week had an article on bicycle polo. Amazingly, this sport has existed since the 19th century (a little cheaper than polo with horses), but today it is being reinvented by hard-core bike messengers.

Brought to you by 123-cctv.com

Plenty of cameras on the market today are capable of capturing that perfect kodak moment. Even so, many still have not considered obtaining security cameras to capture photos not so desirable, but none the less, far more important. Check here for more information on security camera.

Of all the teams in the 2006 World Cup, only two had teams comprised entirely of players based in their domestic leagues. One of these was Italy, the eventual champion. The other was Saudi Arabia, who finished last place in their group with only a draw against Tunisia to their name (at least they didn’t lose 8-0, as they did against Germany in 2002).

The Saudi Arabian national team

That the entire 2006 Italian squad played their club ball in Italy is not a surprise given the strength of Serie A. But the story of the Saudi squad is as much about Saudi Arabia the country as it is about soccer.

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, to use its official name, has long had a conflicted relationship with the outside world. 75% of government revenues come from oil exports, but these funds are used largely to maintain an insular and extremely conservative society. Women, for example, are not permitted to drive and cannot travel outside the country without a male family member escort.

Women are not the only Saudis who face restrictions on travel abroad. Saudi footballers face even more of a challenge when attempting to play outside of the kingdom. To date, only two Saudi players, Sami al-Jaber and Fahad Al Ghasian, have ever made the move abroad.

Why is it that Saudi Arabian players do not go abroad?

It is not a question of skill because, while not world beaters, Saudi players are good enough to play in leagues stronger than their own.

The reasons why Saudi players remain at home are economic and cultural.

The Saudi Arabian league is, as Sukhdev Sandhu writes in The Thinking Fan’s Guide to the World Cup, structured very differently from most. It is a “cosseted league system, bankrolled by princes and the state rather than by local entrepreneurs” (246). Those same princes are also in charge or closely connected to those at the Saudi Arabian Football Association and few in the hierarchy want to lose their most recognizable local stars. (Yet, just as Saudi Arabia’s rulers keep their people happy with oil dollars from abroad, soccer authorities often import aging European and Latin American stars to generate excitement.)

The economic imperative to keep home-grown stars at home is apparent, but it is not the only reason so few Saudi players have gone abroad.

Just as there are laws that hinder women from traveling abroad, Saudi soccer stars have faced restrictions on playing in other countries.

Throughout history, the Saudi authorities have officially banned its players from going abroad. After the 1994 World Cup, star Saeed Owairan (scorer of this goal) “was banned from moving abroad by his football federation … along with the rest of that squad.”

Saeed Owairan

Saudi bans on women’s freedom are, by nature, paternalistic. Paternalism is also in evidence in the soccer authorities’ ban on players going abroad. Sukhdev Sandhu writes, “The Saudi Arabian Football Association apparently fearing that its players might not be ready for the rigors and discipline of foreign leagues, has sought to stop would-be-exiles from leaving” (264).

In the past decade, there has been some loosening of this ban. Sami Al-Jaber played for half a season with Wolves in 2000, although he returned home after playing only a few matches as a substitute.

Sami Al-Jaber

Recently, the ban on Saudi players going abroad has been lifted. There are rumors that Galtasaray is interested in Yasser Al-Qahtani and the striker may move to Turkey over the summer.

But Al-Qahtani is unique in appearing to have an interest in playing abroad. As written on the Channel 4 website prior to the 2006 World Cup, “The barriers imposed by the Saudi FA on players moving abroad are no longer in place, but still few Saudi players have the desire to take their talents abroad.”

Saudi soccer fan Ghassan Bataweel told the website menafan.com in January that many players from his country have internalized the paternalistic attitudes of the Saudi FA. He says players are fearful that they might not be able to cut it in Europe. “[P]layers would not get the opportunity to play for prominent European clubs. It takes hard work and training to develop the level of skills that are required in order to make it on such teams.” (Economic factors are at work here too. Salaries in Saudi Arabia are far higher than Saudi players going abroad could hope to earn.)

In Saudi Arabian soccer, as in the country as a whole, a degree of hegemony has been established. Just as many in Saudi society have come to accept the strict social controls imposed by the country’s rulers as natural, so too have the country’s footballers internalized the interests of those who run soccer in that country. The Saudi FA may have eliminated the ban because, with so few players interested in playing abroad, it is no longer necessary.

The greatest threat to this status quo is globalization, a phenomenon occurring at a torrid pace. Even insular societies such as Saudi Arabia are facing increasing outside influence (satellite TV has brought European soccer to the kingdom and several leagues are draw higher ratings than the local competition). In the future, Saudi players will become more familiar with other leagues, and will recognize the poor quality of their own league by comparison. This may lead to more players wanting to test themselves abroad. But until that time, the country’s best players will continue to ply their trade in Saudi Arabia.

I shouldn’t be writing this. No, I’m not going to write anything lewd. What I shouldn’t be writing is this non-review of the movie Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait. But, having arrived too late to get into the theater, I cannot write not about the movie itself. Instead, I will speculate about why so many people turned up on a Thursday night in America, a country whose people are not supposed to care about soccer.

The announcement in the Washington Post warned readers to get there early to get seats, but I didn’t take it that seriously. How early did I have to arrive on a Thursday evening to see an obscure art film about a French soccer player? This is America, after all. Nobody cares! Or so I thought.

When I arrived at quarter to eight, I knew immediately I had underestimated the interest in the movie. The line at the Hirshhorn Museum stretched from the back door around the large building to the front. Crowd-estimation skills have never been my specialty, but I’d say there were a good three to four hundred folks there.

A very small part of the line waiting to see Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait

I asked the middle-aged man at the end of the line if he was waiting to see the Zidane movie. He said he was but that he’d already been informed that the cut-off for the eight o’clock showing was a good hundred or so people in front of him. He told me they’d decided to add a ten o’clock showing due to the extraordinary interest.

Now, I love Zidane, but not that much. Zidane’s beautiful moves can’t make up for my lost beauty rest. Having decided I wouldn’t wait around to watch the movie, I immediately became interested in the masses who were responsible for me not getting to see it. I watched as those who had gotten there early enough (some arrived at 6:45, I was later told) were ushered into the theater and those who hadn’t stayed outside.

A Hirshhorn employee came to the door to tell those who were left outside that they would, most likely, not get to see the movie that night. She said that they had let in those who would see the eight and ten o’clock showing. People could wait outside in the hopes that some inside would leave, but there were no guarantees.

To my surprise, some of my fellow rejects were downright angry. One tried to bully the employee into letting him in. Others simply looked frustrated and forlorn. The employee’s attempts to tell them they could order the movie on DVD from the UK were almost like salt in the wounds (doesn’t she know about DVDs being coded by region?). Most of people eventually left, but a few stuck around.

Kasim George was emphatic about trying to get in to the ten o’clock showing. “Oh yeah, oh yeah, I’m definitely going to stick around.” Was he frustrated? “Not at all,” he told me. “[Zidane] is a legend.”

George told me he had long followed Zidane’s career (his first memory of the Frenchman was when he still had hair) and said “if you are a real fan of the sport, you would have ultimate respect for him.”

What was he hoping to gain from the movie? George said he had “heard the way they did the documentary was like you being beside him. I had to see it … to get an idea of what he sees on the field.”

George was not the only person who to refer to the now retired Zidane in the present tense. José Granados told me that Zidane “is still a good player.” For many, it seems, Zidane’s influence on the game and on them was so huge that they still think of his presence on the field in the present.

Does Zidane live on even in retirement?

I was only able to speak to a limited number of people, those dedicated enough to stick around for two hours on the off chance they might be let in, which means I can only speculate about those who did see the movie. I imagine they had similar motivations for wanting to see Zidane as did those I spoke with, but what surprised me most was the number of fans who had shown up to see the movie.

If Americans don’t like soccer, someone forgot to tell the hundreds in line at the Hirshhorn last Thursday night. Of course, Washington is a large city with a huge immigrant population that was well-represented in that line. But those who say that America is not a soccer country often fail to take into account the diversity in the US of A. Immigrants who play soccer in this country, often under the radar, have been an important, if often ignored, part of the sport in this country.

That’s not to say there were no native-born Americans in the crowd. I saw suburban high school kids, college frat boys, and middle-aged men reading serious magazines. Anthony Stepter and Maria Flores, among those who were hoping to be let in for the ten o’clock showing, told me they were attracted by the art of the film as much as the soccer. The reasons to want to see the film were as diverse as the people who espoused them.

I draw two lessons from my experience of trying and failing to watch Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait: 1) there is more of an interest in soccer in this country than many people recognize and 2) when the Washington Post says show up early, take them at their word.

(If you want to read actual reviews of the movie, I would recommend hitting up Rotten Tomatoes. And if you’ve seen the movie, feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought of it.)

There may be no greater factor in shaping the development of soccer than money. Several writers have commented on the link between the oodles of cash that have been invading and the success of English teams in this year’s Champions League. It is surely no coincidence that Chelsea, Liverpool, and Manchester United are among the richest teams in English, indeed, the world, and are three quarters of the Champions League semifinalists.

In order to keep its status as the world’s richest league, the Premier League is following the lead of everyone else and their mother interested in making a buck today: looking to China. As Oliver Tse, the brains behind SoccerTV pointed out in a recent EPLTalk interview, teams in England see China as their growth opportunity.

Premier League bosses, then, will have been heartened by an article from the International Herald Tribune this past week about the popularity of soccer in the Middle Kingdom. Interestingly, Eric Pfanner writes that “Unlike America, where soccer is now the most popular participation sport among children, relatively few Chinese actually play the game. But in contrast to the United States, where soccer rarely breaks into network television, the sport is a media phenomenon in China.” Why is that?

The outlook for soccer’s growth in China may be rosy, but economic success in other parts of the world isn’t nearly so easy to achieve. Take, for example, the 2006 World Cup. An article on the website Just 4 Business quotes a report by German academics which “demonstrate[s] that expectations of the event having a boosting effect on the economy were completely exaggerated.”

This report is interesting, though it will probably be little noticed since the tournament was completed nearly a year ago. Positive economic effects are often cited as a rationale to have a country host a tournament. Governments vying for the rights to host a major tournament often use this rationale to support their bids (see, for example, England’s 2012 Olympic bid, which is supposed to boost depressed areas of London). But rarely have I heard cold, hard economic data to support these seemingly altruistic assertions. As someone who loves sports and cares about social justice, I find the building of new stadiums when so many people continue to live in abject poverty a difficult quandary.

Take, for example, the 2010 World Cup. The South African government will spend millions of dollars to build stadiums while half of its people live in poverty. On the other hand, I want a World Cup with stadiums worthy of the great occasion. I don’t know what the answer is, but I think that bringing economic statistics into the debate is helpful.

An artist’s rendition of the King Senzangakhona Stadium, currently under construction in Durban

The question of whether to spend money on new stadiums in a poor country will be on display in 2010 and now also in 2012. That’s because UEFA awarded Euro 2012 to the joint bid of Poland and Ukraine. Surprising many who had expected “old-Europe” power Italy to be given the tournament, Michel Platini repaid the Eastern European countries who had voted him into power by awarding the tournament to two of its members. Now that Poland and Ukraine have been awarded hosts of the tournament, they face that massive task of preparing for it.

As Jonathan Wilson points out in the Guardian, the task will be massive. Stadiums in these countries are in need of upgrades, as is general infrastructure, but Wilson optimistically suggests that “the investment a major tournament will bring will go not to a country that largely wasted its last opportunity, but to a country in desperate need of it.” I hope that these investments in Ukraine and Poland will ready them to host a successful tournament. And I hope, perhaps optimistically, that they will also benefit their people long after Euro 2012 is over.

In 2012, Europe’s best soccer players will be heading east for this prestigious tournament. But sixty years earlier, the Jews were doing everything they could to leave Central and Eastern Europe. At the conclusion of World War II, the liberated concentration camps were full of Jews who had escaped Hitler’s plans to exterminate them, many of whom would later go to Israel, the United States, and other more welcoming countries.

But as Allon Sander wrote this past week in Ha’aretz, one of the first things former concentration camp prisoners did after being freed was to begin playing soccer. Sander writes, “Just one month after the establishment of [displaced persons camp] Landsberg, the Sports Organization for Former Polish Prisoners in the Camp demanded soccer balls and uniforms.” Soon after, the Jews had organized leagues and by 1947 there were 120 teams in Jewish leagues in Germany.

The idea that Jews would be interested in playing a game so soon after witnessing the worst horrors of the 20th century is a bit surprising. But, as Sander points out, Jews had been instrumental in spreading the gospel of soccer from the UK into Europe.

Sociologist Detlev Claussen claims that while conservatives opposed such development and supported athletic and gymnastic movements – team, elitist and non-competitive sports – the Jews happily accepted the British way. As such, the Jews were an engine for spreading sports throughout Europe.

Since surviving attempts to exterminate them in World War II, Jews have done much to try to reduce the suffering of other oppressed people (see, for example, the recent collaboration between the National Holocaust Museum and Google Earth to document the genocide in Darfur). But the state of Israel, where many Holocaust survivors settled, has done its share of oppressing its Arab neighbors. In soccer, as in life, bigotry among some in Israel is evident, as was documented by Rob Hughes in the International Herald Tribune. Hughes writes about Bnei Sakhnin, a team in Israel made up mostly of Israeli Arab players. The team is currently in the second division, but is looking likely to win promotion to the top division, where they have previously spent some time. During their previous time in Israel’s top league,

The welcome into Israeli’s soccer elite was not uniform. Jewish companies did not come forward to sponsor a team that mixes Arab and Jew and even Christian. The conservative extremists drawn to Beitar Jerusalem vented their bitterness by placing an advertisement on the Internet and in a daily newspaper. It suggested that Sakhnin’s presence was the “death” of Israeli soccer.

The Bnei Sakhnin squad

Bigotry is not confined to the Middle East, of course. In England, birthplace of soccer, controversy was generated this week when the BBC announced that it would have a female announcer at the game between Fulham and Blackburn. Some immediately came out against Jacqui Oatley’s appointment to the game.

Said Steve Curry, Sportsmail writer, “It is an insult to the controlled commentaries of John Motson, Mike Ingham and Alan Green that their domain is threatened by a new arrival whose excited voice sounds like a fire siren.”

Not wanted to be out-bigoted, former manager Dave Bassett said, “I am totally against it and everybody I know in football is totally against it. The problem is that everybody is too scared to admit it. I knew this would happen eventually. The world of football is so politically correct these days. I’m completely relaxed about women presenting football shows. Women like Clare Tomlinson are very good. But commentating is different. You must have an understanding of the game and the tactics and I think in order to do that you need to have played the game.”

In a retort to those against Oatley’s appointment simply because of her sex, Paula Cocozza of the Guardian wrote the following:

Why do the Bassetts and Currys in football permit themselves to say such things? Why, like sensible sexists in other walks of life, don’t they at least have the decency to exercise a little self-censorship rather than give vent to the chill draughts wafting through their heads? There is no acknowledgment of offence. Surely, having kicked racism out of football, and having now turned their attention to homophobia, the gentlemen at the Football Association will have to decide there is no place in their sport for sexism.

I agree whole-heartedly with Cocozza. But even while I revile the attitudes of Bassett, Curry, and those who share them, I wonder why they have such animosity toward female commentators. Granted, these are two football “experts” who have yet to turn their calendars past 1962, but where does their anger come from? Do they spew such vitriol when male announcers screech like fire sirens? Would they rail against Tommy Smyth’s inane babble if they had to put up with it in Champions League matches? I doubt it.

We in the US have not done much better on this front, though I have heard a few women calling college football and baseball games (if there are more than that, I’m not sure, as my sports-viewing diet is almost exclusively soccer). We do have the always-perky female sideline reporter, but I’m not sure if she is a boon or hindrance to gender equality. Veronica Paysee traveled to the 2002 World Cup to commentate for ESPN, but was reviled by soccer fans (see her profile on amiannoyingornot.com) because she knew nothing about soccer (she was, however, 2000 Miss Florida USA runner-up).

Veronica Paysee, recipient of a 67.46% annoying rating in 2003

The real question, of course, about announcers should be whether they are good at their job, no matter their sex. I have not heard Jacqui Oatley and am not sure if she is qualified to commentate on a Premier League match. But the fact that she is a woman should not impede her from taking on this new role. The sound of a female commentator is undeniably different from what we have been used to, but that does not make it inferior. Change is sometimes difficult to accept, especially in a beloved institution like football, but it is necessary in order to move forward as fans and as people.

Returning to the good ol’ US of A, I was struck by an article from the BBC which claimed Rangers want to set up a player exchange program with the LA Galaxy. The article quotes Rangers manager Walter Smith saying “With Beckham already signed, they will attract the cream of American kids who want to play alongside a superstar.” Smith, of course, would hope to attract these young American players to Rangers when they are further along in their careers.

I find Smith’s attitude both ignorant and offensive. It is ignorant because, unlike hierarchical European leagues, MLS has a system in place, like most American sports, to ensure parity among its teams. The best players in the US will not necessarily see the Galaxy as a “bigger” team, even with Beckham aboard, and want to move there, unlike Scotland, where Celtic and Rangers are the undisputed top two.

I also find Smith’s attitude offensive because, quite frankly, I don’t see much of a difference in skill level between the SPL and MLS. Rangers and Celtic are clearly a step above the other teams in Scotland, but the league overall is incredibly poor. Rangers and Celtic are good teams, but not great, and until they finally make the much-discussed move to the Premier League, I don’t see the benefit for American players in going there.

One of Ian Plenderleith’s columns at ussoccerplayers.com this week dealt with whether there is a difference in quality of play between English leagues below the Premier League and MLS. His conclusion (and keep in mind, he’s English):

In terms of atmosphere, tradition, passion and wit, attending a game in England, in the lower leagues at least, continues to be a more exciting and enjoyable game-day experience than it is in most MLS stadiums. But these established staples can not paper over the fact that many of these games are horrible to watch.

Plenderleith laments the “tedious, long ball game” that makes up much of English soccer outside of the Premier League. The Scottish have historically been known as more skillful than the English (their dribbling was renowned in the beginnings of the game), but anyone who’s watched an SPL game in the past ten years knows they’ve picked up the worst habits from south of Hadrian’s wall. Americans who move to Scotland to join Walter Smith’s Rangers would be making, in my opinion, a poor career choice.

Finally, a couple of articles on the influence of Spanish-speaking immigrants on soccer in this country. One article in the Washington Post deals with the increasing number of bilingual coaches for high school teams in Northern Virginia (an area with a large Latino immigrant population). Some American-born players have even learned Spanish in order to be able to communicate with their teammates. Stephen Dunlap, captain of Washington-Lee High School, said doing so “makes us relate to each other more. If we couldn’t understand each other but could play together, that would be enough. But being able to associate [with teammates] one more way is one more way to have a better team.”

And for my last article of the week, I have to give a plug to my mom, who brought it to my attention. The New York Times article, headlined “For Some Hispanics, Coming to America Also Means Abandoning Religion” deals with decreasing church attendance among Hispanic immigrants. One reason? They’re too busy playing soccer on Sundays!

Some quick hits to finish off:

• A unique way of trash-talking by Argentina and Brazil, as posted by the blog Too-Biased.
• The Voice of America says Zimbabwe’s successful U-18 team is bringing hope to the country. Strikes me as propaganda (from the VOA? No way!), but interesting nonetheless.
• Puma has signed up to provide uniforms Namibia. The blog Annansi Chronciles brings up the interesting point that Puma seems to doing a lot to make an imprint on the entire African continent (I remember noticing how many teams from the continent at the last World Cup were sponsored by Puma).
• It has nothing at all to do with soccer, but when the sport of Buzkashi popped up on not one, but two blogs I came across, I thought I should post the links. One blog describes the sport as “headless goat carcass polo.” Delicious.

Buzkashi players in action

To many world leaders, soccer, and indeed all sports, are a distraction from the “real” business of governing the world. But some of the most powerful current and former leaders have also been, like millions they represent, soccer fans. A sampling of some world leaders who are also soccer fans.

When Evo Morales was elected president of Bolivia in 2005, he promised to be a different kind of leader. As the first indigenous president of a country whose population is over 50% Indian, Morales said he would govern for those who had been ignored. Morales’s style has differed from that of his predecessors, he wears traditional Bolivian sweaters to formal events with other world leaders. Morales is perhaps unique in the lofty heights of world power in that he continues to play soccer. Playing soccer on his local team, the Bolivian leader has suffered injuries, such as in 2006, when he had his nose broken by an opponent.

What position does Evo Morales play? I’m guessing he’s a left winger.

Bolivia’s neighbor also has a soccer fan installed as its leader. Argentina’s Nestor Kirchner is a fan of Racing Club de Avellaneda. Interestingly, his wife Cristina Fernandez, whom some think may try to take over from her husband, is known to be a fan of Gimanasia de la Plata. A Soccernet article last year talked of the Kirchners receiving Juan Sebastian Verón on his return to Argentina, despite the fact that La Brujita would be playing for Gimnasia’s city rivals, Estudiantes de la Plata.

Italy’s former prime minster, Silvio Berlusconi, was able to rise to the highest office in the land largely because of his soccer connections. Berlusconi rose to fame in Italy as president of AC Milan and used this name recognition to launch himself into political office. Running in the Forza Italia party (a name which literally means “Go Italy”) previously connected to national team supporters, Berlusconi ran Italy from 2001 – 2006. While in office, some questioned whether Berlusconi’s dual role as prime minister and president of AC Milan was a conflict of interest.

China’s current leader Hu Jintao has no apparent interest in soccer, but Premier Wen Jiabao (#3 in the country’s political hierarchy) claims to be a fan. In the lead-up to the 2006 World Cup, Wen told German chancellor Angela Merkel “China has a massive number of football fans who will stay up to watch the matches (with the six-hour time difference), and I’m one of them.” Merkel also claimed to like soccer, even saying she “had arranged her schedule so that she could watch any match Germany plays, including the final.” Yeah, shame about that.

Occasionally, a world leader’s interest in soccer has gotten him in trouble. After being elected in a shock result in 2005, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad got his country’s soccer program suspended from FIFA for allegedly installing his own people into positions at the Iranian FA. Though Ahmadinejad denied the charge, FIFA suspended Iran from international play for nearly a month in late 2005 until the apparent government interference into Iran’s FA (a big no-no in FIFA’s eyes) was stopped.

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad actually looks like he knows what he’s doing (in soccer, that is)

These leaders appear to be genuine fans of soccer, though they are forced to share company with those who use the sport merely for their own political gain. Tony Blair, for example, claims to be a Newcastle United supporter, but as the blog Liberal England shows, his devotion is probably not genuine. And anyone who has seen Blair attempt to play soccer knows he was never likely to play in the Premier League (then again, Newcastle is pretty poor this year).

Glenn Roeder, he’s out of a job soon, sign him up!

There is perhaps no better way for a politician to be seen as a man (or woman) of the people in most of the world than to claim interest in soccer. But doing so when one lacks interest in or knowledge of the game is simply another way in which a politician can confirm people’s worst suspicions about their leaders being disingenuous. Perhaps other world leaders should take their cues from George Bush (did I really just write that?). The self-styled cowboy leader said in 2006 about his fellow Americans: “[A] lot of us grew up not knowing anything about soccer, like me. I never saw soccer as a young boy. We didn’t play it where I was from. It just didn’t exist.”

Hey kids, what sport do y’all play again?

Know of any other world leaders who are soccer fans? Please leave a comment and let me know.

Anyone who has taken even a passing interest in the career of Diego Maradona was not surprised when he was hospitalized last month. Maradona’s latest medical adventure turned out to be acute hepatitis, a condition brought on by alcohol abuse. It’s not the first time that Maradona has brought suffering upon himself, yet despite his many transgressions he remains an idol in Argentina.

There are many reasons to dislike Diego Maradona. He is a cheater, as anyone who has seen his “Hand of God” goal knows. He was suspended twice for drug use, once in 1991 for cocaine and for ephedrine in 1994. He has never been faithful to his many partners. He is rumored to have connections to the Italian mafia. He is incredibly egotistical and indulges to excess (he had stomach-stapling surgery in 2005 after literally ballooning due to eating a diet comprised exclusively of pizza, steak, pasta and cakes. He is notoriously prickly, having once received a nearly three-year suspended sentence for shooting reporters who sought comment outside his home.

Maradona, large and in charge

Most people with this type of rap sheet would be in jail or in an institution. Not Diego Maradona. He roams free (except for occasional hospital trips he brings upon himself) amidst an Argentine public that adores him.Why, exactly, do Argentines love Diego Maradona?

Much of the explanation for the seemingly illogical adoration of this flawed genius comes from the history of soccer in Argentina. Brought to the country by British sailors, it was initially the purview of the expat aristocracy. But soccer was soon adopted by the masses in Argentina and given its own South American flavor. As the BBC’s Tim Vickery writes:

First, it was introduced by the British, who were very influential in the region, supplying the activity with first world prestige. Second, it was re-interpreted by the South Americans. The straight line running style of the English was replaced by a much more intricate game of feints, twists and turns – ideal for the player with a low centre of gravity, the physical build of many South Americans.

Vickery’s description of the playing style and physical build of South American players fits perfectly with Diego Maradona. Before getting to other factors, it must be said that Maradona is loved for his ability on the field. Maradona’s passing, dribbling, touch and other skills are, in many ways, the Argentine ideal. Watching the incredibly technical Maradona tear apart teams (such as the English) with a more physical approach, Argentines saw their vision of the beautiful game vindicated.

But Argentina’s love affair with Diego Maradona is not just about soccer. It is also about what he represents. Jimmy Burns, author of the biography Hand of God, describes “Maradona as a unique social, political, and religious phenomenon” (viii).

Maradona has become a social phenomenon largely because he enabled Argentines to achieve their dream of taking on and beating the powerful at their own game. Gabrielle Marcotti has written that Maradona represents “one of the oldest archetypes, that of the slave who outfoxes and defeats his master.”

Maradona, representing the poor and deprived masses, brings down the Western Establishment, not with his God-given physical gifts, but with his brainpower, the very attribute that the First World maintains that the underdeveloped savages elsewhere lack.

When he led Argentina to victory over England, Maradona’s countrymen admired him for finally getting one over on their former colonial masters. The way Maradona almost single-handedly defeated England in the 1986 World Cup is memorable. On that day in the Estadio Azteca, he scored two of the most famous goals of all time: the Hand of God as well as a sixty-yard slaloming run that has been voted the best goal of all time. (Current president Nestor Kirchner has said that Maradona “made all Argentines weep with joy.”)

Maradona after winning the 1986 World Cup

Nobody questions Maradona’s genius on the latter goal, but the Hand of God has been viewed very differently in England and Argentina. Writing in the Guardian, Marcela Mora y Araujo describes the difference in views:

To most English people it was a vile piece of cheating. But, although the rules of football disallow such actions, the informal rules of the lawless vacant lots state that anything goes as long as the referee doesn’t say otherwise, especially in Argentina, where such flexibility extends well beyond football.

Mora y Araujo even ascribes a name to Maradona’s creative application of the laws, picadia criolla, which she translates as “creole cheekiness.”

In his biography of Maradona, Jimmy Burns presents an Argentine concept synonymous to picadia criolla, that of viveza. Burns writes:

In Argentina the English concept of fair play is not as popularly recognized or indeed applauded as that of viveza. The word literally means liveliness, but is used to mean craftiness or trickery, and is never used in a derogatory sense (6).

To a culture that has two words to describe rule-bending, it is logical that Diego Maradona would be a hero.

But what of Diego’s many documented problems? Do Argentines not hold his suspensions, marital infidelity, and shooting of unarmed citizens against him? In short, no.

So what accounts for Argentines’ apparent willingness to forgive Maradona for his many sins? I would suggest that it is due, at least in part, to Argentines’ willingness to admit to their own failures. Argentina has the most psychoanalysts per capita of any country. Many residents of Buenos Aires speak of going to their shrink as if it were a trip to the barber. The shame which continues to surround psychotherapy in many countries is less in evidence in Argentina. And a country full of people so aware of their own weaknesses can hardly fault Diego Maradona for his failings.

There are many explanations for why Maradona has become such a revered figure in his homeland. Yet even so, the level of passion his fans show for Diego is incredible. Marcela Mora y Araujo quotes a sports psychologist (appropriately enough) who says that “In Argentina we are addicted to discussing Maradona, He is our drug. It is not him who is ill, it is us.”

The symptoms of this illness are numerous. There are several sites in homage to him. One contains a poem written by a 15 year-old to her idol (“I say thank you for letting me love you / and may I carry your name in my heart until the last second of my life”).

Art can be found in Argentina that shows Maradona in all his glory.

There was a petition before the 2006 World Cup to put Maradona on the Argentine roster (supporters urged the coach to give him “10 minutes of love” in the tournament) and a street in the city of Santa Rosa was named after him.

Maradona’s voice is respected in Argentina, which is a bit of a surprise given how miserably he’s failed at everything except playing soccer. Despite other unsuccessful attempts at management (he was sacked as manager of Racing Club after missing training because he was on an alcohol and drugs ingesting spree), there was a clamor after the 2002 World Cup for Maradona to take over from Marcelo Bielsa. And when Maradona began a TV show called La Noche del Diez (literally, “the night of ten” in reference to his uniform number), it drew nearly one third of the Argentine audience to watch him sing a song called “The Hand of God.”

Claims that a person is viewed as a god are usually an exaggeration, but not in the case of Diego Maradona. A church set up to worship Maradona may attract only a few followers, but the fact that it exists says something about the level of devotion Argentines have to their most famous player.

But it’s not just a few who relate Diego Maradona and the supernatural. As Gabrielle Marcotti writes that some “argue that sections of his fanbase – whether consciously or unconsciously – secretly entertain the notion that he harbours some form of divinity.”

References to Maradona as a god are evident in recent headlines about him.

Un Dios Aparte (A God Apart) detailed Maradona’s recent trip to Argentine second division team Tristan Suarez practice, after which striker Daniel Bazón Vera said, “We take [Maradona] as our guide.” When the team went on to win their next three games, a second article (titled Dios te Ayuda or God Help You) quoted the same striker. “Now we have God on our side,” said Bazón Vera. The article finished with a simple declaration: “and it’s true.”

Another headline which mixed Diego Maradona and God was seen during his most recent trip to the hospital. Headlined Dios es Argentino (God is Argentine), the article detailed Maradona’s recovery from alcohol-induced hepatitis and offered hope that he might attend the Boca vs. River superclásico (he wasn’t able to).

Estudiantes de la Plata players show support recently for Maradona

Of course, Diego Maradona will one day die. Given his lifestyle, the odds that his death will come prematurely are high. Maradona may recover from his latest illness, but it’s only a matter of before he does himself in. Yet even Maradona’s death will not put an end to the devotion many Argentines feel toward him. As Jimmy Burns writes,

The only certainty about Maradona is that when he dies, no matter how he dies, his funeral in Buenos Aires will be as big as Evita’s and even then people won’t believe that he is dead (2).

To most of the world which views him as a supremely talented player, but incredibly flawed person this belief makes little sense. But to the many Argentines who worship Diego Maradona as a god, the idea that he would live forever makes perfect sense.