This development is perhaps not all that surprising given that the United States is a nation of immigrants. Many of the players who have developed their skills in the US and played for other nations are children of immigrants. The most notable such example is Giuseppe Rossi. Born in Teaneck, New Jersey to Italian parents, Rossi traveled to his parents’ homeland at age 13 to begin playing for Parma. He would later sign for Manchester United before moving on to his current club, Villarreal. Intrigue surrounded Rossi, with American fans holding onto hope that he would choose to play internationally for the US despite his assertions that he wanted to represent Italy. His call-up for the Azzurri in October 2008 sealed his international fate (and, to rub salt in the wounds of American fans, he scored twice against the US in last summer’s Confederations Cup).

Other Americans born to immigrant parents to have played for other the national teams of other countries include Espen Baardsen, and Arturo Alvarez. Baardsen was a goalkeeper for Tottenham, Watford and Everton from the mid-1990s until he retired in 2003 (quoting the BBC: “American-born Norway international who retired aged 25 in 2003 after a spell with Everton, saying he had lost his passion for the game. Spent a year travelling the world and now works in London as a financial analyst for a hedge fund. His preferred reading is Milton Friedman and Immanuel Kant.”). Born in California to Norwegian parents, Baardsen played for youth national teams in the US before representing Norway at the senior level, despite the fact that he never lived in that country.

Espen Baardsen (photo: Spurs Odyssey)

Arturo Alvarez is a Salvadoran-American midfielder currently plying his trade for the San Jose Earthquakes in Major League Soccer. Born in Houston to Salvadoran parents, Alvarez played for the US at youth level, but chose to represent El Salvador at senior level. He took advantage of FIFA’s changed restrictions making it easier for players to represent a country at senior level even if they played for another country at youth level.

The Balkan wars of the 1990s spread people from the former Yugoslavia around the world (many of their children have gone on to become soccer stars), and the United States received many immigrants from these countries. Two players who passed through the US have since gone on to become major stars in Europe, and both chose to represent other countries rather than the Americans. Bosnian-born Vedad Ibisevic, striker for German feel-good club Hoffenheim, came with his family to St. Louis (a city that has received a huge number of Bosnian immigrants) and became a star high school player before going on to St. Louis University. He was then signed by Paris St. Germain, spending one season in the French capital before moving on to 2^nd division club Dijon. He moved across the border to Germany, playing one season for Alemannia Aachen before being signed by Hoffenheim. Ibisevic made his international debut for Bosnia in 2007, but he told the New York Times that he would have considered the US if he had heard from them. “I was happy in St. Louis, got a green card, but I never really heard from anyone from the U.S. national team. I would have considered it.”

Vedad Ibisevic (photo: bundesliga.de)

Like Ibisevic, Neven Subotic is the child of parents from the Balkans, in his case Serbian. The Subotics settled in the US in the late 1990s and Neven played for teams in Utah before being called up to the U-17 national team. He represented the US at that level as well as the U-20 level, but a falling out with coach Thomas Rongen led him to turn his back on the Americans and represent Serbia. He made his debut in March of 2009 and has amassed 7 caps since then.

These types of quandaries in which players eligible to represent multiple countries must choose between them are not, of course, unique to the United States (German international Kevin Kuranyi, for example, could also have represented Brazil and Panama). Increased flows of people across national boundaries in recent years are creating many novel problems to be dealt with throughout life, and soccer is merely one area in which these problems manifest themselves. That said, there have often been debates about players’ eligibility for various national teams, especially in the early 20^th century when European nations such as Italy and Spain made a habit of recruiting South Americans for their national teams. It was this poaching that led FIFA to tighten restrictions on players switching their allegiances. It is only now, with players who represent one country at the youth level having previously lost the right to represent another at senior level, that FIFA has loosened these restrictions. Finding appropriate definitions for defining nationality and determining eligibility has long vexed FIFA and will almost certainly continue to be a problem in the future.

When  Schalke midfielder Jermaine Jones announced recently that he intends to switch his national allegiance from Germany to the United States, it was notable because it has been so long since the United States has had the potential to call on players such as him (Edgar Castillo, a Mexican-American who has previously played for Mexico, may also suit up for the US). The US has arguably become more of an exporter of talent in recent years. The United States’ status as a nation of immigrants means that it is likely to continue to develop players who are eligible and choose to represent other countries. It is less clear, however, how long it will take the US to shed its image as an importer of players and be seen as a country that also develops players for other nations.

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Gaston Sessa is an Argentine goalkeeper with a bit of a reputation. A bit of a Toni Schumacher wannabe, he is known more for his antics than for his skill. Sessa’s most recent antic came in April when, after a league match against Belgrano, the then-Velez Sarsfield goalkeeper took it upon himself to make obscene gestures toward the crowd and a photographer (see video here). The Argentine authorities came down hard on Sessa, arresting and sentencing him to ten days in jail for inciting violence.

Gaston Sessa, no stranger to controversy

With violence in the stadium a huge problem in Argentina (witness the scenes at a recent match between Tigre and Nueva Chicago), it is perhaps not surprising that the police there have been cracking down. Gaston Sessa was not the first Argentine player arrested for on-field misdeeds: last year, Belgrano striker Mariano Campodónico was also arrested for making obscene gesturess.A similar incident in Wales occurred last year when Swansea players Lee Trundle and Alan Tate went to the extreme in taunting fans of rival club Cardiff City. After a match against Carlisle being played in Cardiff’s Milennium Stadium, Trundle and Tate unfurled a flag that read, “F*** off Cardiff.” Trundle took it a step further, brandishing a shirt with a “Swansea player urinating on a Cardiff shirt.” Both players were arrested, although in the end were only given a warning and a fine. The FA of Wales added an additional £2,000 fine and one-match suspension for each player.

Lee Trundle charms the Cardiff City fans

The police threatened to get involved last year in a match between Manchester United and Liverpool. When Gary Neville ran 60 yards to exuberantly celebrate a last-minute winner over Liverpool in front of the opposing fans, there was some suggestion that police action might be taken. In the end, the police decided not to press charges, but simply to send a letter to Manchester United. Neville, however, was given a £2,000 fine by the FA and warned not to repeat his actions.

A friendly earlier this year between China’s U-23 team and Queens Park Rangers made headlines for all the wrong reasons. The match was abandoned after a massive brawl broke out between the two teams. Having been captured on video, the police were able to carefully examine what happened. After doing so, they arrested QPR assistant manager Richard Hill and charged him with causing actual body harm for breaking the jaw of Chinese player Zheng Tao. Hill was also suspended for three months from football by the FA and indefinitely by QPR.

One can quibble with the way police apply the laws in the cases above, but at least the laws themselves are just. The same cannot be said of the law that members of the Taliban used to arrest members of a visiting team from Pakistan in 2000. The team had come to Afghanistan to play a series of friendlies. In the middle of their third match, the game was stopped by Taliban officials who stormed the field brandishing guns and accused the players of wearing un-Islamic dress. Five players escaped, but the twelve who did not were arrested and had their heads shaved as punishment before being released. In a rare piece of reflection, the Taliban recognized the error and fired the official responsible for shaving the Pakistani players’ heads.

The “guilty” Pakistani players, post-haircut a la Taliban

A final instance of an on-field arrest was also the most controversial. During a Copa Libertadores match in 2005 between Quilmes, Argentine Leandro Desabato was accused of racist insults against Sao Paolo’s black striker Grafite. Under Brazilian law, racism can be considered a form of assault. After the match, Desabato was taken away by Brazilian police and offered a free night’s stay in jail. Stories claiming the Argentine player could be sentenced to years in prison led to an uproar in Argentina, but ultimately proved incorrect. Desabato was released the next day after paying a $4000 fine. Although Grafite decided not to press charges, it’s probably safe to assume that Desabato will not be returning to Brazil any time soon.

Leandro Desabato is arrested in Brazil

Overall, incidents of players and coaches being arrested for on-filed acts are conspicuous by their absence. This is not due to a lack of potentially arrest-worthy incidents (an on-field fight is not that different from a bar brawl, after all). And it is not due simply to the authorities’ reluctance to take action against famous athletes (players who break the law outside the stadium are often arrested; just ask Glen Johnson). But during the ninety minutes that they are on the pitch, players and coaches are rarely prosecuted for their actions.

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One of the main dividing lines in the interpretation of cheating can be drawn between the English on the one hand and those on the European Continent and South America on the other. A major fault line emerged at last summer’s World Cup that showed the difference in the way each group views cheating.

That was when Wayne Rooney stomped on Portugal’s defender Ricardo Carvalho during the World Cup quarterfinal. As referee Horacio Elizondo was deciding how to punish the young English striker, his club teammate Cristiano Ronaldo rushed forward, lobby for a red card to be shown. When that punishment was meted out, many in England were quick to blame Ronaldo for “having got Rooney sent off.”

The real injustice, in many English eyes, was how Ronaldo had attempted to persuade Elizondo to punish Rooney. Many in the English press piled on Ronaldo, claiming his actions alone had led to Rooney’s dismissal (Elizondo later denied having been influenced at all; Rooney also denied having stomped deliberately on Carvalho; you at home can make up your own mind).

The Rooney / Ronaldo incident is just one example of how many in England view attempting to influence referees as cheating. The English also often take particular offense at so-called “card-waving,” when players visually demonstrate the action they believe a referee should take. Former Arsenal left back Nigel Winterburn spoke for many when he said on The Game Podcast in February (click here to listen to an edited clip from that episode). He said, “I hate to see players sticking their hand in their air with this imaginary card.”

Italian journalist Gabrielle Marcotti responded, “I know people love to raise this issue … [but] if you feel you’ve been fouled you have a right to tell the referee.” Winterburn agreed that players have the right to tell the ref when they are getting fouled, but claimed they should tell him, not visually remonstrate with him.

In the end, the two are not that far off, with both agreeing that aggrieved players have a right to express their displeasure. But while the former English player wants such complaints to be done verbally, Marcotti has no problem with gestures thrown in.

While running the risk of stereotyping, it is not too far a stretch to look at the way the English communicate compared with their Italian counterparts (and many other Europeans as well). The English are known for their stiff upper lip; the Italians for their exquisite repertoire of gestures. So, is this card-waving really cheating or simply a misreading of a different communication style?

Christian Vieri gestures toward referee Byron Moreno at the 2002 World Cup

Another type of cheating that foreigners have allegedly brought into England is diving. Sir Alex Ferguson has said that “the diving problem has started since foreign players came into our country” (unlike many, he was also willing to admit that “English players do it too”). Sir Bobby Charlton echoed Fergie’s sentiments, saying “We seem to have drifted into some bad habits that others brought with them. We didn’t used to have any of this [diving] in our country until players from abroad came in.”

Cristiano Ronaldo, Arjen Robben, Didier Drogba, and Didier Zokora are among the latest players to have been accused of being divers upon their arrivals in England. But after a few flops, many of these players have actually toned down their theatrics. I don’t doubt that the strength of English anti-diving sentiment is responsible for such a change. The negative reaction these players received from the press and the public was such that it was able to influence the way they play.

Drogba in full flight at last summer’s World Cup

But why were they diving in the first place? If anti-diving sentiment is strong in England, it is weak, if not non-existent in many other countries. In some cases, it is even encouraged. The Argentines, for example, use words such as picadia criolla and viveza to describe the craftiness, trickery, or cheekiness to describe players who break the rules, but get away with doing so (if a player dives in the forest and nobody’s there to see it …). So, it’s not that Argentines necessarily promote cheating, but they do have a concept that condones, if not encourages, it.

There are certain types of play that the English see as fair play, but Argentines and others view as cheating. Most of them involve what the aggrieved parties see as excessive force. As I wrote earlier, this week any type of straight-legged, cleats-up tackle is called la plancha in Spanish and is sure to provoke anger when employed.

Another difference in the interpretations of cheating can be seen in the degree to which players are permitted to challenge the goalkeeper. When Chelsea goalkeeper Petr Cech had his skull fractured by a Stephen Hunt challenge, Jose Mourinho went predictably ballistic, saying his goalkeeper was “lucky to be alive.” Even with the giant grain of salt any of his utterings require, Mourinho’s anger pointed to a difference in the way goalkeepers are treated in England and in much of the world.

The more physically robust style that is the hallmark of English soccer has long included the right to challenge the goalkeeper. Long ago, English strikers would bundle the keeper into the net, ball in hand, and be awarded a goal. This has changed somewhat, but in England there remains an expectation that goalkeepers will be firmly challenged when going for a ball.

This is in marked contrast to the more hands-off approach taken in much of Europe and South America. There, opposition players are permitted to have much less contact with the goalkeeper and those who ignore this are quickly called for fouls. Mourinho, accustomed to this treatment of goalies, was incensed at the English interpretation of the law, a sentiment shared by several other coaches.

While challenging goalkeepers is the most potentially dangerous manifestation of the English style, center forwards in that country are known for going up extremely forcefully against defenders as well. Alan Shearer, the man who railed against Cristiano Ronaldo’s cheating, was notorious for elbowing opponents who dared get in between him and the ball (a model of fair play, Shearer also suggested that post-World Cup “there’s every chance that Wayne Rooney could go back to the Man United training ground and stick one on Ronaldo”).

Alan Shearer’s elbows took no prisoners

Another soccer podcast, the Guardian’s Football Weekly (click here for edited clip) also featured a discussion recently on notions of cheating in various countries. Kevin McCarra offered a sophisticated take.“Cheating comes in different national types,” he said. “In Britian, for example, pushing a center half so he’s off balance as you head the ball in the net is the basis of a career and no one thinks it’s scandalous at all. It’s funny how we react more to certain types of cheating than others.”

Sid Lowe, the Guardian’s man in Spain, agreed. “We can get uppity and say, ‘look at him diving or look at him deliberately handballing’ and so, but Spaniards will quite often say to me, ‘but hang on a minute, in England assassinating a center forward is seen as fair game for a center back.

Lowe then summed it up well: “There’s a different sense of which parts of breaking the rules are fair in which countries.”

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Mariana Lima de Souza was reportedly visiting friends in the poor neighborhood where she brought up her son. A group of armed criminals hopped the fence of the house she was visiting, grabbed her, and took her away. Mrs. de Souza was held for 41 days until Robinho paid a reported $75,000 ransom.

Robinho with his mother

The kidnapping of Robinho’s mother got worldwide attention because of his status as one of Brazil’s brightest future stars. But he is far from the only soccer player to be affected by kidnapping.

Grafite, then playing for Sao Paulo, had his mother kidnapped soon after the abduction of Robinho’s mother. Rogerio was playing for Porto that same year, but his mother was at home in the Brazilian city of Campinas when she was kidnapped. Current Sevilla striker Luis Fabiano’s mother suffered the same fate soon after. It was the fifth kidnapping of a Brazilian soccer player’s mother in a five-month span in 2005.

Kidnappings of soccer players’ family members are not limited to Brazil, nor are they limited to mothers. Juan Román Riquelme’s brother Cristian was kidnapped in 2003 and held for just over 24 hours before the family paid a ransom.

The father of Jorge Campos, the former Mexican goalkeeper best known for his brightly-colored shirts, was taken at gunpoint in 1999. He was held for just over a week before being released in exchange for cash.

Jorge Campos (L) and his father Alvaro Campos

Mexico can also claim the dubious distinction of having had a working coach kidnapped. Ruben Omar Romano was manager of Cruz Azul in 2005 when he was abducted. He was held for two months before being freed by Mexican police.

These are, sadly, far from the only examples of soccer players’ family members being kidnapped. In Brazil, Argentina, Mexico, and other Latin American countries, risk of abduction is the price of fame. Musicians, movie stars, and other wealthy and well-known people fear for their own safety and that of their families. It is only relatively recently that soccer players and their families were considered at risk.

1994 marked a turning point in the abduction of a member of a soccer player’s family. That was when Brazilian striker Romario’s father was taken by a group of criminals. The kidnappers were also soccer fans (not surprising since they were Brazilian) and “provided him with steak, beer, cigarettes, a fan and a television so he could watch his son play.” Romario’s father was released unharmed several days later.

If the abduction of Romario’s father changed anything, it was to tell players that they and their families would no longer be given special status. In a soccer-mad hemisphere, footballers were often spared the type of extortion that other celebrities received. Criminals, it seemed, couldn’t bear to kidnap the mother of their favorite striker.

But the abduction of Romario’s father can be seen as a turning point in which criminals started to become less sentimental. It brought about a swing the pendulum away from adoration of soccer stars and toward greed. More recent abductions have been carried out with no regard for the players’ “special status.”

Celio Marcelo da Silva (also known by his nom de guerre Bin Laden), the convicted mastermind behind the kidnapping of Robinho’s mother, told the BBC that kidnappers rationalize their crimes because there is a “lack of opportunities in Brazil.” Da Silva also blamed the media for the 2005 spate of kidnappings, saying, “It all started because people copied the Robinho kidnapping… the media promoted it all. If they go around saying that there is a lot of money involved, it doesn’t matter whose mother it is… people will kidnap them.”

Convicted kindapper Celio Marcelo da Silva, aka Bin Laden

Da Silva may misguided on most matters, but he is completely correct when he says that criminals today don’t care whose mother they kidnap. Gone are the times when criminals gave special status to the soccer players they, like so many else in their countries, adored. Today, many players hire bodyguards for themselves and their families. And young players leave Brazil, Argentina, Mexico, and other countries to avoid the threat of kidnapping.

Bruno Marioni, an Argentine striker playing for Toluca in Mexico, told the media last year that he’d welcome a move to MLS in order to be in a country where his family would be safe. (A transfer to Boca Juniors convinced him to sacrifice his family’s safety in favor of playing for the great Buenos Aires club.)

Robinho continued to play for another six months at Santos after his mother was kidnapped. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t mentally sharp and his play suffered as a result. Fortunately for the young Brazilian, his transfer to Real Madrid did eventually go through in the summer of 2005. He moved to Spain, where he has been ever since. His mother is there with him.