Wednesday, December 23, 2009

A New Day at City?

When the late Sir Bobby Robson took over the helm at Newcastle as manager and head coach, he was met with fresh enthusiasm and a bit of good fortune. During his debut match against Sheffield Wednesday, Newcastle had one of its best ever games.

The Toon dominated Wednesday 8-0 as the great Alan Shearer bagged five goals on his own, with the match standing out as the most spectacular performance of the 2000 Premier League season.


Above, Shearer bags five against Wednesday. Photo credit: BBC


The appointment of Robson had followed a period of shakiness and a record of underperformance as Ruud Gullit, the Dutchman regarded as a splendid tactician on the pitch, and one of Holland’s best ever players, sputtered along as manager. What it showed was that “sexy football” sounded exciting, but was hard to achieve for a manager who didn’t have his players either behind him or playing their best football.

After a year at the head of Manchester City, Mark Hughes finds himself out, notwithstanding a respectable record in the face of immense pressure from new owners to take City to the top four.

The new man, Roberto Mancini, comes to the manager's role with some accolades such as Italian championships. He also carries more flamboyance and European attitude which may very well appeal to City’s owner and board given their ambitions.

As an observer, I thought to myself in August that if Man City were not at least in the top 6 of the table by Christmas, that Hughes would be fired. As of Saturday, when Hughes was fired, City sat at sixth place, but only because of a listless run and a 2-0 loss by Liverpool. Meanwhile, City barely pulled out a 4-3 win to a mediocre Sunderland.

While not cut from the same cloth as Robson, Mancini is in a similar situation, with a talented squad, presumably apt to challenge for the title if handled properly.

No need to go down the roster player by player. But with at least five top notch strikers amidst other offensive options in midfield, such as Shaun Wright-Phillips, Petrov and others, the scoring has gone well for City. Yet it is no secret that the underwhelming results lie with poor defensive play.

Wins have been impressive, as City stuck it to Arsenal twice this season, and beat up on leaders Chelsea. But seven draws this season suggest that City’s players lack either confidence or commitment to winning games while they are ahead.

If half Man City’s ties ended up as wins, let's say even against the worst of their competitors, City could be sitting in 3rd place right now. On Nov 7, City blew a lead three times against Burnley just by being clumsy. Hull scored a late but predictable equalizer just before full time on Nov 28. And City also blew a 2-1 lead against a wobbly Liverpool thirty seconds after they put themselves in the lead.

So it’s no wonder that, for a club with a new owner, tons of cash, a new stadium, and several new and expensive players, that the manager’s head would roll for not winning more games.

For Mancini, making some right moves could go along way for the new manager. With current captain Kolo Toure skipping in and out of injury, Mancini should appoint Gareth Barry as the new skipper. The midfielder has been a dependable force in City’s run so far, and stands out as the most mature and level headed player the club has.

Plus given some players’ affinity for nonsense on the field (Bellamy and Adebayor, especially), Barry’s appointment as captain would set the tone right away that it’s all serious business going forward.

Another matter will be what to do with Robinho. Either Mancini will need to make their talented Brazilian productive right away or write him off and find a way to get him out of the squad, especially if the forward starts moaning.

Lastly, the new gaffer will need to see that transfer window as an opportunity to tighten up his defensive options. City need no new strikers. But a solid, reliable set of defenders with a determined work ethic will be much more important than name or raw talent. Fans need to know that their cash is going toward committed players who share their vision for long term success, not just cocky hotshots shopping for a new destination elsewhere at the first calling.

Mancini’s time at City will likely be one of two things: either a fantastic success or a rip-roaring failure. For whatever reason, my hunch tells me the new era at City will not a repeat of the relatively boring years under Kevin Keegan.

Nor will it be the gradual slide toward the bottom of the table and lower league football that City fans endured under Peter Reid and Joe Royle. For sure, this is a good thing. Such ups and downs are all too painfully familiar for this great club.

Many would agree that it is about time that the English Premier League have a little variety at the top of the table. City provide an exciting story, and an agitating thrill against Man United's dominance from across town. Meanwhile renewed momentum at Aston Villa and Tottenham are, at least for now, giving the other big boys in red --Arsenal and Liverpool-- a reason to worry about their whether they will still be among the big four.

Toward this pursuit, only time, talent, big cash, and a little flamboyance will tell.

Frye writes weekly about sports and life. Updates can be found here at MySports/Complex and on his Facebook page of the same name. Go blue.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Football: Mounting traditions




It’s been over a decade and a half since Chucky Mullins died. Leroy “Chucky” Mullins was a cornerback for the University of Mississippi who was paralyzed after he made a tackle during a game against SEC rival Vanderbilt in 1989.

Subsequent to the injury Mullins died about a year and a half later. Since then Ole Miss has retired number 38, Mullins’ jersey number, the only Ole Miss jersey to be retired since NFL Hall of Famer Archie Manning’s. In Mullins’ honor, the players participate in the annual “Grove Bowl”.

Before the Grove Bowl, a scrimmage between the Ole Miss’s best players, one senior defensive player receives the Chucky Mullins Memorial Courage Award, bestowing on him the tradition and honor of wearing the 38 jersey for the matchup.

Parallel traditions exist elsewhere. At Moody, a bible college in Chicago without a collegiate football program, football tradition is carried through the Fall intramurals. Intramural men’s football is a big deal here and performance is observed closely. The best of the league’s players get to participate, by invitation only, in the North-South Bowl pitting the two ends of a small campus against each other for a big, big game.

What is it about Football that compels Americans to build traditions?

I have never gotten an answer to this question, and I probably never will. But I got a little buzzed on the punch, and got maybe a little insight, just by following mundane tradition for once.

That tradition was a visit, as an alumnus, to the Thanksgiving Day football game at my high school back home. It was the first time I partook in this ritual in 17 years.

Unlike in Chicago, high schools in Pennsylvania and much of the East Coast play their biggest rival on Turkey Day, rain or shine, whether or not the remainder of the season holds anything to play for.

I wasn’t attending per se to fulfill any ritual. No one dragged me out of bed. I guess this morning I just wanted some black coffee and a fresh look at what I thought was so important about the whole thing back then.

And on this day, hell, it was one of the best games I’ve ever seen.

During the four years I attended Hatboro-Horsham High, this matchup was always a rout in our favor. We regarded our rivals, Upper Moreland (UM), unfairly as the kids from the “other side of the tracks” with no manners and aggressive yet unimpressive football tactics; never as good as our Hatters.

As a geeky student council member, I had job of presenting roses to the Homecoming Court, a group of pretty girls voted on the court for being pretty; a strange competition in its own rite. All this, while contending with stare downs from the meat head boyfriends who escorted them to the 50 Yard Line; another ritual.

UM had their prettiness competition too. Supposedly their girls were escorted on-field not by meat heads, but by ex-cons. I didn’t start that rumor, though I wish I’d thought of it. The story went on one year that the other side’s Homecoming Queen was knocked up.

Our school killed the Homecoming Court years ago, which is probably a good thing. So now there is no superficial pageantry, no distractions, just football. It was all about the game. But back then, the trash talk was its own tradition dished out from both sides; and that was one tradition I always took part in.

UM took control of this game for the first 40 minutes of this muddle-through in the mud. They scored the majority of the points, a whopping two touchdowns, that were well earned and clinically, albeit slowly, executed. The Hatters managed to get close a few times, trudging with effort down the field, only to get stopped each time.

UM’s 14-0 score line held for a while. Within the last quarter the Hatters made it 14-7 with the extra point after a shaky ball barely got through from the kicker’s foot up to the wind between the upright posts.

Sure, the score did not impress anyone, really. This was all about a contest of wills between a group of 17 and 18 year old boys who, from my vantage point on the side line, fought like men. Maybe fulfilling tradition had something to do with it.

At one point, I looked behind me right after the Hatters had fumbled the ball. The band played some annoying, peppy tune, doing their usual rom-pom-pom, and I caught with my eye a block of about 100 disgruntled HH fans looking their way in unison with a disapproving glare.

Clearly the scowls weren’t looking forward to turkey and mash potatoes right now… Maybe just an opportunity to save face and get the ball again.

And the Hatters did.

Somehow they got the ball again after UM had dallied around for a few plays, amidst their overconfidence that this game was theirs. Near game’s end, 45 seconds sat on the clock with an opportunity for HH to fill or kill.

Within two plays, HH came within a point with a touchdown pass. Then the Hatters went for the two-point conversion, which I’ve never seen in a high school game, taking the score to 15-14.

The Hatters did more within the last 20 seconds, picking off a last chance UM pass to seal the deal.

Afterward, the band rolled onto the field, while fans stormed it. And as the tradition goes, the coach got soaked in ice water and Gatorade. Good thing it was an untraditional 58 degrees out.

The thought crossed my mind, that is must be moments like these that get every fan to the game on a holiday. What better way to warm up to the thought of an 18 course meal and boring TV shows to come.

So what are the nuts and bolts of Football’s appeal? A good win. Suspense. The challenge of a match up and the twists and turns that remind us of every day life, etc. etc.

I don’t know if that’s it, since every sport has suspense. However, there’s something about American Football that makes people engage in rituals like the tailgate before game even on much colder days.

After all, what suspense and holiday excitement can you find better than a last minute win for your home side? For me, conveniently, this great ending came as a homecoming gift upon my first return in 17 years. What a nice welcome home.

I guess I’ll have to consider coming back year after year, making it a tradition maybe, to find that suspense again and again. And if next year doesn’t carry the tradition of suspense and a big win, there’s always the next 16 after that.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

I Defect.


One of my favorite movies from the 1980s is "Moscow on the Hudson”, starring Robin Williams. In this film, Williams’ character, a fellow named Vladimir, is a Russian musician who accompanies the Soviet state circus on a glasnost visit to the US and New York City.

Soviet life for Vladimir holds little more than hum drum disenchantments; from fuel shortages, and ugly, uncomfortable shoes to personal invasions by the proper authorities. Vlad and his comrades get to spend their nights off in mile-long lines to wait for third rate toilet paper.

The daily annoyances only serve to rile up Vlad and his best pal, Yuri the Clown, in this passive-aggressive and inefficient, maybe cruel, power system. From Yuri’s mouth, there is talk about defection to The West.

Later, during the big trip to the US, and Yuri the Clown not only loses his nerve but complains about his own self-defeat. In contrast, Vlad becomes incensed, takes charge of his hesitations. When the time comes to board the bus back to the airport, Vlad stonewalls. He states to his Soviet commander, “I defect" in the middle of Macy’s department store.

Without being too dramatic, I can say I have found myself in similar situations as a fan and follower of sports. Lucky not to be standing in line for toilet paper, I have been abused as a fan for years on end, by a favorite sports club that clearly doesn’t care about the fans who support it.

The club in question, Newcastle United, had been my keeper and long time favorite distraction. While I’m probably half of the problem, the club has played its own denigrating role too.

My American friends probably wonder why I get caught up in soccer in the first place. But there is something about English Football --my favorite flavor of the game-- that overshadows every other sport in the world when it comes to excitement and great sports action.

The only reasonable comparison I can make for my soccer-indifferent American friends is this. Imagine you’re a fan of March Madness College Basketball. But you get March Madness, the crazy fans, the last gasp last second wins, and all its high-stakes excitement all season long, from August to May.

English Football is a high stakes game. Every season, the worst three teams get “relegated” or demoted to a lesser league. With that, the losers get the pride-swallowing fun of playing smaller clubs in less accommodating mini-stadiums, not to mention the loss of millions in TV revenue.

Imagine your whole baseball team getting sent “back to the minors” after a long, hard, losing season. If this happened in the NFL, the Detroit Lions would be in pee-wee football by now.

So, yes, Newcastle has had one of those seasons. Like that’s not enough. More serious, there’s been a pattern of indifference for many seasons that has been transformed into a custom.

First off, the club has been through eight coaches in seven seasons; certainly not good for stability. This comes as a result of some false starts by some of the coaches, but also shows a lack of commitment and patience by greedy execs looking for a quick fix to save their own jobs.

And like the New York Knicks, Newcastle has a knack for signing big name players who are past their peak and sliding downward, almost all for big money. The attitude appears to be to throw anything and see if it will stick.

This kind of thing infuriates Newcastle’s fans. The club was built over years and years into a successful powerhouse by carefully grooming and developing players who were not only good players, but honorable gentlemen who set an unusual example as a team who could play as a team, with egos cast aside. It is this factor that brought me in a decade ago and kept me wanting more and more.

Instead, now the focus has been on throwing around money in hopes of saving the current season, while talking big about the next. But, constant player departures have caused a backlash.

Last fall, fans paraded the stadium with signs reading “Cockney Mafia Out”, a jab at the club’s London-based owner. Others of us saw this as another step toward the abyss. Since this mayhem, Mike Ashley, the club’s owner, has twice tried to sell The Toon unsuccessfully and has resorted to selling naming rights to the stadium to raise cash.

Eight seasons have been littered with crushing and embarrassing defeats, with self-destruction a regularity. Conceding eight goals last season against Liverpool wasn’t exactly heart warming, though maybe the players should be commended for spreading the embarrassment across two games. The year before, the Toon gave up eleven against Man United.

And I can’t help but remember in April 2005 watching two Newcastle team mates duke it out on-field at a home game in front of 50,000 stunned and utterly appalled fans.

Problems crop up when disinterested money men step in and try to run a sports club like a waste-hauling business or hot dog plant. Unfortunately, sports teams are not like other businesses.

You can’t drop in a couple million and build a team quick and on the cheap. Just because you feed a thoroughbred some Twinkies doesn’t mean the sugar rush will win him the race. Probably the opposite.

Every year ESPN Magazine puts out an issue ranking all the clubs of the major four sports in America: Football, Baseball, Basketball, and Hockey. The rankings are never about wins or championships, rather ESPN squares in on the quality of the organization.

Perennial stars are clubs like the Green Bay Packers and the St Louis Cardinals. These clubs get high marks not only for building strong sports teams, but for their treatment of the fans. Good sports clubs allow fans to participate in a meaningful way, regardless of the season’s outcome.

Clubs like the Chicago Blackhawks and the Cincinnati Bengals have been past listed as “worst” franchises, namely during years when they raised ticket prices while diluting the team and sticking it to fans in general.

But indifference and incompetence convert into abuse when practiced with repetition. Sometimes, as in Newcastle’s case, players and coaches become chess pieces to narcissistic owners and the end result is an ailing, decrepit sports team.

Other times, the owners make asses of themselves at the team’s expense, as Marge Schott did with repetitive comments praising Hitler. Schott’s stupid jibes made life hell for the Cincinnati Reds and made their fans want to hide in secrecy.

Damaging the relationship with your fans isn’t only bad business. It makes the case for defection. I have a few friends back home who have abandoned the Philadelphia Eagles over their acquisition of Michael Vick. I know people who have switched college football allegiances for love, which is probably a more noble enterprise.

Speaking of, it’s important to mention that emotion and longing play an underrated part in the sports fan’s psyche.

I’ve been a strident, loyal and patient fan of the Toon for a long time. But after a while, stale bad relationships get cold and murky like old bath water.

Like many footy fans I have always had a second team. That team, Manchester City FC, representing the blue half of Manchester against the forces of evil (Manchester United), has always tugged on my heart.

Underdogs tend to do that. Maybe I’ve had a mistress all along.

For a long time, Man City games were impossible to watch; either because they were not televised, or the team was so horrendous on the field that you might reconsider watching in the first place. But like my Chicago Cubs, there has always been an optimistic and warm culture around the club that transcends the score of the game or the season’s results.

Recently, Man City has had an exciting renaissance. The club’s mystique and fan base has attracted a rich owner who has rightly invested in great players with a vision to move the club forward permanently. While tuning in to experience the games, I have also connected with other fans, at the grass roots level, which makes this new tryst of mine much more satisfying and enriching.

Counting today, I’ve seen about three fourths of City’s games, rearranging schedules to do so. I’ve also gotten up at 6am on weekends and blown off work too. As for the Toon, I’ve seen a few of their games, but the fire in my heart is out.

So where do I stand? I am no clown; I guess that makes me a defector. I defect.

Some will ask why. But, I gotta go with this. After all, the heart wants what it wants.

Frye writes weekly about sports and life. Updates can be found here at MySports/Complex and on his Facebook page of the same name.