Surprisingly, George Weah is one of the few former soccer players to use their fame to move into a career in politics. Former players are some of the most prominent people in society and were they to move into politics, they would begin their new careers with higher name recognition than many politicians in office for years. But, for whatever reason, few players attempt to make this transition. A few of those who have (along with some former coaches, officials, and referees) are listed below. I’m limiting this list to those who have played at the professional level. Many politicians played soccer as kids (though few are as bad as Tony Blair).

Blair attempts to at least make contact

The most recognizable former soccer player of all, Pele, has tried his hand at a few things since retiring from the game. Unfortunately, he’s been bad at just about all of them. His stint in politics was no different. Appointed Extraordinary Minister for Sport in 1995, he went about trying to kick out corruption in Brazilian soccer (a much-needed task). His attempts to do so were unsuccessful and Pele left his job in 1999. In 2001, Pele himself was accused of profiting off of a charity match staged for UNICEF that never happened.

Turkey’s prime minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan is today visiting Washington, speaking with George Bush about the situation in the Kurdish region of northern Iraq and Turkey. But before he got into politics, Erdogan was apparently a professional soccer player, though with which team I don’t know.

Far less notable is Toshiro Tomochika, current member of the Japanese Diet and former J-League player. Tomochika was part of the surprising Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) sweep of the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) in the upper legislative house earlier this year. Soccer features prominently on the legislator’s website.

Toshiro Tomochika playing for J-League team Ehime FC (photo: Live Door)

Eastern Europe under the Iron Curtain produced two politicians who were former players. Jozsef Bozsik was a friend and teammate of the great Hungarian Ferenc Puskas, and also a great player in his own right. He won 101 caps for the Hungarian national team. After his playing days were over, Bozsik was also elected to the parliament, though perhaps elected is too strong a word to describe the political system in use at the time in Hungary.

Several decades later, Oleg Blokhin became a star for Dynamo Kiev and the USSR national team, for whom he earned 112 caps in total. He also won the European Footballer of the Year in 1975. Blokhin later coached several teams, including Ukraine, whom he guided to the 2006 World Cup. His coaching duties have not stopped Blokhin from serving in the Ukrainian parliament, to which he was elected in 2002.

Soccer club officials go into politics in far greater numbers than do the players they employ. Silvio Berlusconi parlayed his career as owner of AC Milan into a stint as Italy’s prime minister. Elected as head of Forza Italia (a party with connections to soccer supporters), Berlusconi ruled the country twice (1994-95 and 2001-06), though never as successfully as he has run AC Milan.

The always dapper Silvio Berlusconi (photo: Monte Cerignone e dintorni)

Berlusconi’s peer at Boca Juniors is Mauricio Macri. The Argentine won election as mayor of Buenos Aires earlier this year, a victory that just happened to coincide with Boca’s victory in South America’s Copa Libertadores. Some have suggested Macri may have his eye on the presidency, though he will now have to take down Argentina’s equivalent of the Clintons, current president Nestor and his wife Christina, who just won the election to take over his job.

Jack Warner is a mover and shaker in the FIFA hierarchy. The Trinidadian is a vice president of the world soccer body and head of CONCAF. He has allegedly used these position for his own profit when he resold 2006 World Cup tickets for $1 million, despite FIFA edicts against the practice. Warner announced his candidacy for the Trinidadian parliament recently and used his prominent position to win a seat in yesterday’s election.

Jack Warner (left) with Trinidadian Prime Minister Patrick Manning (photo: Office of the Prime Minister)

In addition to Oleg Blokhin, Argentina’s Carlos Bilardo is one of the few coaches to go into politics. The man (whose fantastic and accurate nickname is “Narigón” or “big nose”) who coached his country to victory at the 1986 World Cup announced he will become sports secretary of the province of Buenos Aires.

Argentina seems to produce more politicians from the ranks of soccerdom (perhaps it’s because the politics and soccer are so intertwined in the country). Javier Castrilli is, as far as I’m aware, the only referee to jump the ranks of arbiters to politics. The man once known as “El Sheriff” has hung up the whistle and become an official with the Argentine Ministry of Internal Affairs, focusing on security at stadiums.

Though the ranks of former soccer players, officials, coaches, and referee going into politics are fairly limited, there are two current players who one can imagine having a political career after retiring from playing. Not surprisingly, they both play for Barcelona, a club that define its identity in political terms. Defenders Lillian Thuram and Oleguer have both spoken out forcefully on political issues they feel strongly about. Will they devote themselves entirely to politics in the future? Only time will tell.

Have I missed any former soccer players, coaches, officials or referees who have gone into politics? Let me know by leaving a comment.

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One the most important factors shaping people’s lives in the 21st century is the ever-increasing pace of globalization. We are familiar with many of the changes globalization has brought: the multitude of products manufactured in China, information available on-demand on the Internet, and people increasingly moving to different countries in search of a better life. But sometimes, globalization brings about a change that is totally unexpected.

When DC United signed forward Nicolas Addlery at the beginning of the season, I read in the press release that the Jamaican had spent the previous year playing in Vietnam. How strange, I thought. How could a player from Jamaica end up playing in a country halfway across the world from his homeland? Well, the short answer is globalization, but the long answer is far more interesting.

Nicholas Addlery sat down with me recently and talked about how he ended up playing in Vietnam and what he took away from his time playing and living there.

Nicholas Addlery (photo: DC United / MLS)

Addlery was born in Jamaica and lived there until he 17. He had made the national under-17 pool and was scouted by a coach at California University of Pennsylvania, where he played for four years. Addlery had a stellar college career, including being named a second team All-American in 1997.After college, Addlery began his pro career in Trinidad and Tobago, first with the South Starworld Strikers and later with San Juan Jabloteh. How did he get there, I asked? Addlery shrugged and responded that the similarities with his homeland had been a draw. “Jamaica, Trinidad, it’s close enough.”

The next stop on Addlery’s career, though, was anything but close to Jamaica. The coach of his team in Trinidad, former English international Terry Fenwick, had connections to a sports marketing company with ties to the Vietnamese team Dong Nai FC. Asked if he wanted a new challenge, Addlery agreed and was soon on a plane to southeast Asia.

He went to Vietnam with another player from his former Trinidadian club, but his teammate soon returned home. While Addlery mentioned several players who struggled to adapt to life in Vietnam, he himself relished it. He lived in Dong Nai province, a highly industrialized area with many factories producing goods for export. He would often go to the capital Ho Chi Min City, which he described as “very modern.”

Addlery would spend his free time at what have become global pastimes: shopping and visiting Internet cafes. He also has fond memories of getting massages (“not the type of massage you’re thinking,” he assures me).

While in Vietnam, Addlery made an effort to fit in with the locals. He bought himself a dictionary and picked up the basics of the language, ate local food (“a lot of rice”), and learned to use chopsticks.

Addlery may have grown used to many parts of life in Vietnam, but many Vietnamese were not used to seeing him. Listed at 6’1”, 185 pounds (that’s 1.85 meters, 84 kg for those lucky enough not to use the imperial system), he is a large man in the United States, let alone Vietnam.

When his team traveled to rural parts of Vietnam, Addlery was often the first black person many rural Vietnamese had ever seen. “They weren’t used to seeing black people,” he told me. “In the rural areas where they don’t really have soccer teams, they’ve never seen a black guy before. You see a black guy that big, you’re like ‘Wow, that’s a big black guy’.”

Addlery’s presence could sometimes be dangerous. “I’ve caused accidents just standing on the corner of the street.”

The Jamaican forward enjoyed this notoriety. “Here, I’m just a regular person,” he told me. “There, I’m like ‘oh my God!’”

Would he go back to Vietnam or another Asian country? “Definitely, if I’m available and they put some good bread on the table,” Nicholas Addlery told me.

“Some people say, ‘I want to play in Europe.’ Me, I want to play in Asia. There are opportunities to do so many other things. It’s just a little different lifestyle … I’m always looking for new experiences.”

Paulo Wanchope (photo: AP / Deutsche Welle)

Wanchope’s name is, I would find out, not “native” Costa Rican (in the sense that it was brought over by the country’s original colonizers, the Spanish; actual native Costa Ricans are relatively few in number at this point, having been largely wiped out by Spanish invaders). It came from England across the Atlantic to Jamaica and finally through the Caribbean before ending up in Costa Rica. Wanchope’s last name parallels his own family history, with only one major step missing: that which brought his ancestors as slaves from Africa to Jamaica.

Paulo Wanchope is, of course, black. He is the descendant of African slaves brought to that Caribbean island when it was a British colony. Slavery existed for hundreds of years in Jamaica before it was finally abolished in 1834.

Meanwhile, in Costa Rica, there were slaves, although in much smaller numbers. The first slaves were brought to Costa Rica by Spanish conquistadors in the 16th century. Like in Mexico, the African population in Costa Rica began as a very small minority. Slavery was abolished in Costa Rica in 1824, although the website InfoCostaRica.com suggests that “by the time of the Independence of Costa Rica from Spain (1821), slavery was a disintegrating institution.”

The middle of the 19th century saw a worldwide coffee boom. Costa Rica soon took advantage of this spike in prices and established itself as a main exporter of the commodity. In 1870, Costa Rica’s government made the decision to build a railroad from so-called Central Valley to the Caribbean city of Limón. This railroad was to carry coffee from the farms to the port city, from where it would be shipped abroad.

Railroad building is a notoriously difficult endeavor and backers often bring in foreign workers for the task (see the Transcontinental Railroad). Such was the case in Costa Rica, where newly freed slaves from Jamaica were brought in to clear the forest and build the tracks which would connect Costa Rican coffee farms to the world market. (And really, if you haven’t tried Costa Rican coffee, I highly recommend it).

One of Costa Rica’s most famous brands of coffee, Cafe Britt (photo: cafebritt.com)

Subsequent influxes of Jamaicans would help Costa Rica develop its other major cash crop, bananas. Under the auspices of the notorious United Fruit Company (backer of much mischief in Latin America; see Steven Kinzer’s book Overthrow), Jamaicans were brought in to work banana plantations on the in the Caribbean region of Costa Rica.

Many immigrants don’t start out on their journey intending to immigrate. That may well have been the case with the Jamaicans brought to Costa Rica in the late 19th century, but many of them did end up staying in the country. The Caribbean port city of Limon and the surrounding province are today around 50% Afro-Caribbean, largely the descendants of the railroad workers and banana plantation workers. Many black Costa Ricans have also moved to larger cities throughout the country, and their total population is around 125,000 (in a country of 4.5 million).

Blacks in Costa Rica have a status not that different from that of their counterparts here in the US. Poverty, unemployment, violence, and many other measures of quality of life are all higher among the Afro-Caribbean population. Racism remains a fact of life (when I told people there I was going to Limón nearly every one told me to “be careful”).

Yet despite this, the Afro-Caribbean population has developed a culture all its own. It is in many ways a combination of African, Jamaican, and Costa Rican influence. Rice and beans, a typical Costa Rican dish, is given a Caribbean flavor with the addition of coconut; it is Wanchope’s favorite food. On the Caribbean coast, one hears people speak a patois that combines English, Spanish, and surely some other influences, for I speak the first two languages and yet struggled to understand this mixture.

Boys playing soccer on a Limón street (photo: Eric Wheater / canada.com)

Back to Paulo Wanchope and the question of how his name is pronounced. The striker, born in 1976 in the Central Valley city of Heredia, is the descendant of blacks brought to Costa Rica from Jamaica. Along with his skin color, Wanchope’s last name is the major clue as to his family’s past. It is an Anglo name, given to his family’s descendants while in Jamaica and carried across the Caribbean to Costa Rica.

Many black Costa Ricans have similar last names. Current national team coach Hernán Medford and players Jervis Drummond, Harold Wallace, and Steven Bryce are all examples of Afro-Caribbeans with decidedly Anglo last names. (Costa Rica is not the only country with a black players whose ancestors hail from Jamaica; see Honduras’s Carlos Pavón and Guatemala’s Freddy Thompson).

New LA Galaxy signing David Beckham, I mean Carlos Alberto Pavón Plummer (photo: AP / Medio Tiempo)

So, in the end, I won the argument (not that I’m bragging) about how Paulo Wanchope’s last name is pronounced. But it’s not the end of the story. Wanchope’s nickname is Chope, with the e pronounced. Why, I can’t quite say, but perhaps just because Costa Ricans like the sound of it (go ahead, say it out loud, it sounds like “Choap-ay”).

Back when he was a defender for the US national team, Eddie Pope routinely had his last name mangled by Costa Rican commentators, who pronounced what should have been a e. In a country with such a large black population, and so many Anglo last names, you’d think commentators would figure out that the final e is often silent in English. But maybe they just liked saying “Poap-ay.”

Can you find Christopher Birchall? Hint: he’s the one lacking pigment.

As he himself succinctly explained, it was through his mother that Birchall was eligible to play for Trinidad and Tobago. She was born and grew up in Port of Spain, Trinidad’s capital. Although she moved to England at age 18 and settled there, her connection to the island nation would serve her son well.

While Birchall knew that his mother had been born in Trinidad, he had never considered the possibility of representing the Caribbean nation. During the 2004-2005 season, he was mostly concerned with trying to break into the first team of Port Vale. But, unbeknownst to him, word had leaked about his heritage and Birchall was approached by a Trinidadian player during a league match against Wrexham. Birchall told The Guardian’s Dominic Fifield what happened next:

[Port] Vale played Wrexham towards the end of that season, the ball went out for a throw-in and Dennis Lawrence came charging up to me. When a 6ft 7in opponent comes at you, normally the first thing you think is ‘Uh-oh, what have I done wrong here? Did I foul him earlier or something?’ But he just asked whether I had any Trini blood in me and wanted to have a chat after the game.

It may have been the worst pick-up line ever (“You have any Trini blood in you? You want some?”), but it was enough to charm the Port Vale midfielder. He and Dennis Lawrence chatted after the game, confirmed his Trini blood, and a few weeks later, Birchall was on a plane, heading for the Caribbean.

When Birchall made his international debut in May of 2005, he became the first white player to play for the Soca Warriors in 60 years. His race was of major interest to the press and people of his newly adopted country. Again, speaking to the Guardian, Birchall said, “There was a big crowd for my first game – I was a bit of a novelty, the first white player for so long – and they wanted to see how good I was, wondering: ‘Who is this guy playing for us who’s never been here before, and a white lad too?’”

Birchall expressing his patriotism

Back in England, Birchall’s father worried that his boy might not be accepted in his newly adopted country. Birchall himself was a bit nervous too, but his fears were eased as soon as he arrived. “That was one of the main things I was worried about, but everything has been fine, ” Birchall said. “Not only was I a white guy playing for Trinidad and Tobago for the first time in 60 years but I was also from England – so that is why it has been so great the way I have been accepted. I have been to the local nightclubs and met a lot of the local people.”

So, why was Birchall accepted so easily into the Trinidadian team? He believes it has to do with the country’s multiethnic nature. “[I]n Trinidad, there are loads of different cultures, whites, Chinese. For them, it is not a big deal, because there are a lot of white people…”

Trinidad is an incredibly diverse place. In addition to the whites and Chinese Birchall mentioned, the population of Trinidad is about 40% East Indian, 40% Afro-Trinidadian, and nearly 20% of the people identify themselves as mixed. This mixing is key to understanding Trinidadian identity.

As Cornell University anthropologist Viranjini Munasinghe writes in her paper Nationalism in Hybrid Spaces: The Production of Impurity Out of Purity, while Europeans and their descendants have built their identity around the idea of a homogeneous population, Trinidadians have based their sense of self in heterogeneity.

Munasinghe writes that “the national genius of some New World Creole societies lies in their celebration of mixture of hybridity” (668). Though she points out that this celebration has largely excluded East Indians, it is revealing to note that the myth of Trinidadian identity, at least, has been based around celebrating the multiethnic character of the population.

Many have used food metaphors in an attempt to explain this notion of identity. Callaloo, a popular dish in the country, for example, is a mixture of African and indigenous ingredients. As such, it is used (much like the American melting pot) to symbolize the way in which people from many different backgrounds come to Trinidad and are mixed together to form a new, unique product called Trinis. (Just as the idea of the melting pot has been critiqued for making all the delicious ingredients into a tasteless mush, so too have people like Munasinghe criticized the callaloo metaphor, saying it leaves little space for East Indians to express their unique identity. In both countries, reformers are promoting a “tossed salad” metaphor to replace the established ones.)

Callaloo

Metaphors aside, it remains undeniable that Trinidad and Tobago is very aware of its multiethnic nature. Munainshge quotes one observer of Trinidadian culture who says that “a number of individuals know of six or more racial … strains in their ancestry.” (680).

Christopher Birchall was worried that people in Trinidad would not accept him as a white player. He found out that his “unique” background was seen, in many ways, as not very unique. Interesting backgrounds are not that special in a country full of them.

Birchall endeared himself to people in Trinidad when he scored a goal in his country’s play-off match against Bahrain to help send the Soca Warriors to their first ever World Cup. The only person prouder than Trinidadian fans of their “white boy” was the white boy’s own mother. “Mum was the proudest person alive that I was representing her country. She thought the Trinidad chapter in her life had been shut. It’s emotional for her.”

Birchall playing against Sweden at the 2006 World Cup

It may be hard for Birchall’s mother to believe that he is playing for the country of her birth, but not as hard as it is for some of his teammates. “When … players … hear I play internationally, they can’t believe it and say, ‘Who do you play for?’ ‘Trinidad & Tobago.’ They start laughing. ‘No really, who do you play for?’”

I will buy a beer for anyone who can tell me who the first white player to play for Trinidad was. I’ve searched, but can’t find the answer. Oh, and you have to come to Washington (before September) or San Diego (afterwards) to pick up your prize.