Going over to the Dark Cyde

I haven’t commented on my DC United much of late, although the team has found some form.  Too busy with the oft-pulsating Euro 2008 — sigh, the Dutch got my hopes yet again — and, sadly, with work.

But leave it to Dan Steinberg over at the Post to remind me why I love my trips to RFK:

The Barra Brava and Screaming Eagles monopolize Washington’s “Look! Soccer crazies!” media attention, and rightfully so. But if you’re always staring at their bouncing side of the park you might miss some of the team’s other vibrant supporters groups. Like, say the Dark Cyde.

That three-year-old group’s membership is a bit vague–its founder said there are about five members–but that founder more than makes up for the small numbers. He is Darth Hooligan, and he is awesome. Witness the District logo tattooed on his left arm, the red-and-black DC Shoes on his feet, the stuffed United mascot hanging from his midsection, the No. 69 “Darth Hooligan” jersey around his torso, the $10 Target light saber twitching in his hands, and the self-applied Darth Maul-inspired red-and-black paint on his face. Yesterday his hair was out, adorned by two feathers; “usually, I wear my little devil hat,” he said, as his friends gleefully displayed his red and black skull cap.

Darth Hooligan, eh?  Now that’s a mash-up of devoted fandom, indeed.  Perhaps one reason for soccer’s rising appeal in the US is the way we are still discovering/inventing our fandom.  NBA or NFL games have become very programmed, filled with piped-in music and prods.  The supporters’ groups at a United game drive the cheers, not the PA system.  The growing awareness of the international game means fans here have a better idea of what their options are.  We can pick and choose among traditions, not simply adapting styles from other American sports or — thankfully — from stereotypical British hooligans.  We’re still figuring it all out, which makes it feel more lived in.

Back to “Darth Hooligan”.  He offers an interesting take on why Darth:

“One day I was watching ‘Star Wars Episode I,’ and it just hit me, out of the blue,” he explained. “You know how Darth Maul is red and black? I’m starting my own supporters club called the Dark Cyde. Come as any villain in any movie, as long as you wear red and black.”

The choices are theoretically endless, as long as you can imagine, say, Norman Bates sporting red and black face paint. Anyhow, why villains? Darth said that United is the New England Patriots of the MLS, at once dominant and reviled league-wide, the unbeatable standard hanging over every rival club. Villainous, in other words.

Ooooh.  Embrace the bad guy, eh?  Personally, I would have thought that would have made us the Oakland Raiders of MLS but perhaps their image has fallen because of their recent losing seasons.  It’s hard to be the villain when you’re bad — at least bad in terms of winning and losing. 

There’s a certain appeal to the villain.  As a serious comic book collector in my youth, I can attest that invariably the villain is a better character than the hero.  And they almost always have more fun…at least until they get caught.  It’s an interesting exercise to contemplate adopting a villain for your soccer fan alter-ego.  Darth Maul doesn’t do it for me, which is probably partly a function of age.  The original Darth was my generation’s villain but that costume would get pretty toasty at a summer game at RFK.  Same for Doctor Doom.  Perhaps the Joker would be more my style.  (I suppose you can make him in red and black.)  Or perhaps Magneto.  He’s got a red helmet after all….

Czeched Out

The Czech collapse against Turkey yesterday was startling, a rapid unraveling of a previously solid team.  (Wait, Petr “possibly best goalie in EPL” Cech made a crucial error?)  Credit the Turks for an impressive display of fortitude.  My wife M. says she likes to root for teams that show “can do” spirit — clearly she should be cheering on the Turks now, given that remarkable comeback plus the way they came from behind against the host Swiss in that wicked rainstorm.

This may represent the end of an era for the Czechs, who like other smaller nations with strong soccer cultures, usually need a couple of stars to lift them from the “regular qualifier” level to “dark horse threat to win it all” level.  (See also: Croatia, Sweden, Bulgaria etc.)  American fans remember all too well the way we were dismantled by the Czechs at the 2006 World Cup, before the Czechs went awry at that tourney.  They’ve had a handful of world-class players in recent years but they are largely moving on — Pavel Nedved has retired from international play, giant Jan Koller will join him soon, Tomas Rosicky has injury problems and missed this tourney.  They’ve still got Cech but he wasn’t exactly helping the cause yesterday. 

This Czech side peaked at Euro 2004, where they arguably played the best soccer of any team before running into the brick wall of the Greek defense in the semi-finals.  I was lucky enough to see them beat Denmark in the quarter-finals.  What was it like?  Here’s a taste.  For more, read on after the jump.

Around minute 30, the Danes start swaying in unison.  The Czech fans, on the other hand, perhaps provoked by the Danes, begin doing one of the stranger cheers I have seen.  First, they chant “Czech-ia!” and then “Hop Hop Hop” hopping as they say it. 

As best I can gather it means “Onward, Czechs!” but the effect is as if the section beside us is getting a Ramones concert on a frequency the rest of us can’t hear and doing the pogo — either that or offering encouragement to rabbits.  “Hop!  Hop!  Hop!”

Washed Away on a Sea of Oranje

As I’ve expressed before, I’m a fan of the Dutch.  So their brilliant demolition of Italy was a treat to watch, perhaps even some long delayed vengenance for the painful semi-final defeat at Euro 2000.

But this BBC blog post brought back some fond memories of my trip to Euro 2004. 

Orange Elvises, orange mountain maids, orange bears, orange road workers, nuclear plant workers in orange radiation suits – orange variations of any kind of clothing you care to mention rolled into town and sparked a huge, huge party.

I know at some level that this what the Dutch so often do — raise our hopes with great play before losing in heartbreaking fashion, probably on penalty kicks.  But it’s always fun at first and while I’m stuck in the US for Euro 2008 it’s good to know that the Dutch fan tradition continues. 

“I felt like killing the ref”

I think we’ve all had that homicidal feeling after a referee gives the other team a huge break.  Like, for example, a borderline penalty call in stoppage time of a crucial match. 

“…last night I was speaking very differently about the whole thing, I wanted to kill.  Referees make mistakes and this was an obvious error that harmed us all…”

That’s Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, on the Austria-Poland game.   Brilliant political pandering to his angry constituents or a reckless stirring up of passions?  You make the call. 

Riding the Pink Train

Euro 2008 kicks off tomorrow.  Alas, I won’t be there.  I haven’t managed to arrange my life so that I can jaunt off to the tourney for a week like I pulled off in 2004.  But awhile back I did catch a game at the stadium that will host the final in Vienna on June 29th:

I’ve gotten to soccer games in a variety of ways — subways, driving my car, the bus, hiking up a hill.  This, I conclude, is undoubtedly the coolest.  M. and I are riding a mini-train — the “liliputbahn” — to the Ernst Happel Stadium in Vienna.  And, to make it even better, the train is pink. 

 

We are bound for an important Austria Wien game — Wien being German for Vienna — against Olympique de Marseille.  It is the first leg of a two-game playoff for a slot in the lucrative Champions League group stage.  The kid-sized train is rolling along through the Prater park, packed with men chugging beers and reliving their childhoods.  Woo-woo! 

Want to hear more about that, along with a quick trip through Austrian soccer history?  (Really, they used to be good, despite the current national team being so pathetic as to generate a petition to withdraw them from Euro 2008 to avoid embarrassment.)  Read on!

The Euro 2008 Beer Finals

The Guardian comes through for us, on this “Euro 2008 eve.”  Let’s play Euro 2008 through a tasting competition with a national beer for each representative!  For example, the Dutch choice:

Holland
Grolsch Weizen, 5.3%
This widely revered wheat beer, from the same stable as the iconic swing-top, is bursting with lovely flavours. But, as always with the Dutch, much depends on whether they get along in the glass.

The early favorites are obvious — Germany, Czech Republic, etc.  For example, Pilsner Urquell’s early triumph:

Czech Republic: Breezed through the group stages with its sturdy malt base, brusque hop bitterness and a mouth-feel as velvety as the revolution.

Alas, Belgium didn’t qualify for Euro 2008 else, as one commenter notes, they’d be overwhelming favorites.  (Perhaps Belgium is the Brazil of beer!) 

The winner is slightly surprising.  I won’t spoil it for you — click the link to find out.  In the meantime, I sense a theme for the next few weeks of soccer watching…

The Euro 2008 team bus slogans!

They ran a contest for fans of the various teams at EURO 2008 to pick a slogan to paint on their team’s bus, in their native language and in English.  (Something similar happened at the 2006 World Cup.)  The results are here.  And the buses themselves, in full team color glory, are here.  (Lot of red and white teams at the tourney, it appears.)

Some slogans are pretty obvious.  The Swiss went with: Final destination: Vienna.  (That’s where the championship game will be held.)  The Germans have: Germany – one team – one purpose.

Others seem more revealing.  The French appear interested in making friends: Live together, celebrate together.  Same with the Poles: …because only sport and good fun matter.  Turkey plays the passion card: Can this bus contain the passion of Turkey?

The Italians sound a bit surreal to me:  The sky is always bluer.

But my favorite is the slogan for Spain.  It’s tinged with resignation — unlike ESPN’s ad campaign, they expect their team to disappoint them:  Whatever happens, SPAIN FOREVER.  Now that’s true fandom — whatever happens, we’re for our team. 

ESPN’s Euro 2008 Ad campaign

I was a huge fan of ESPN’s World Cup 2006 ad campaign, perhaps in part because they used U2 for the soundtrack.  With “Worldwide Leader” taking a run at showing Euro 2008, I was curious to see how they’d try to sell it to Americans, given that the tourney not only lacks a US team (duh) but also the English. 

EPL Talk has collected the first five ads and the answer is…national stereotypes!  Some are complaining about this.  (I’m looking at you, Italy World Cup blog.)  Me, I think it’s a good idea.  After all, the average American sports fan would be hard-pressed to recognize 99 percent of these players.  But they know these countries.  So make it about the Italians, not Luca Toni.  Or the Portuguese, not Ronaldo.  Heck, I’m not sure most European fans know much about the defending champion Greeks anyway, aside from that magical run of 1-0 victories in Portugal four summers back. 

My favorite is the Italian ad.  Let’s face it, they do complain a lot.  The Portugal ad has the best highlights.  (Thank you, Ronaldo.)  And the one for Spain just seems wrong — the tagline is “All Surrender to Spain’s Red Fury”  WTF?  They choke in every tourney.  The main red fury I’m aware of is that directed at the team by Spanish fans every two years.

Still, I’ll give’em a B+.  Give me a great Dutch ad or a funny French ad and I might go to A-.  (Seriously, where are they?  I’d think they’d be more promot-able than Spain.)  And I’d think a Russia ad would be easy enough.

But I think we all would agree.  The latest Nike ad, the first person “Take It to the Next Level” commercial, is the best currently running.  Seriously, it flat out rocks.  Go watch it now!  That’ll get you more in the mood for Euro 2008 than anything ESPN is running.

When Life Imitates Dream Team: the Barton edition

It’s the summer, transfer season in the English Premiership.  Newcastle midfielder Joey Barton is looking at a relatively novel loan — six months in the penal league:

England international footballer Joey Barton was jailed for six months yesterday for a “violent and cowardly attack” outside a branch of McDonald’s after he became embroiled in a street fight at the end of a drunken night out in Liverpool.

The Premier League player, who signed for Newcastle in a £5.8m deal from Manchester City last summer, had drunk 10 pints of lager and five more bottles of lager before launching a sustained attack on a stranger and punching a 16-year-old boy in the face.

Now 15 (!) beers might be enough to make anyone stupid, if they’re able to be upright.  But Barton has a long history of thuggish behavior:

The incident took place as the player was awaiting trial for two other offences, which he denies; alleged assault and criminal damage of a taxi – for which he will appear before Liverpool magistrates on May 30 – and the alleged assault of a former Manchester City teammate, Ousmane Dabo, 31, to be heard in Manchester next month.

But wait, there’s more!  Courtesy of Wikipedia:

Although he signed a new contract on 22 September 2004, which would keep him at City until 2007, the club considered sacking Barton in December 2004 after an incident at their Christmas party. He stubbed out a lit cigar in youth player Jamie Tandy’s eye, after he had caught Tandy attempting to set fire to his shirt.  Barton subsequently apologised for his actions and was fined six weeks’ wages (£60,000).

The following summer, Barton was sent home from a pre-season tournament in Thailand after assaulting a 15-year-old Everton supporter who had provoked Barton by verbally abusing him and kicking his shin.Barton had to be restrained from attacking the boy further by teammate Richard Dunne.  Barton underwent anger management therapy at the order of City manager Stuart Pearce and paid £120,000 in club fines. 

While I find it puzzling that so many people appear to want provoke an obvious psycho — seriously, attempting to set his jersey on fire? — it seems there’s ample evidence that Barton is a bad, bad boy.  Just the kind who you’d expect to turn up at Harchester United.  Though I’d imagine that they’d upscale the details of his brawl.  A McDonald’s?  Really, Joey, the Arches?  Make that a high-end nightclub…and then have him score a crucial goal when he returns from jail.

Up the Forest!

One of the more intriguing elements of international soccer to an American is the concept of relegation/promotion.  A whole new element of drama for those at the lower end of the standings, much more life and death than our habit of letting losers go first in a draft for young talent.  Then there’s the excitement of getting promoted to a higher level — as if a whole team could be called up to “the Show.”  The novelty is entertaining, at least if it’s not happening to your adopted team.

So I need to mark the promotion of the lower division English team I’ve adopted, Nottingham Forest.  Here’s the good folks at Through the Seasons Before Us celebrating Forest’s return to the Championship:

There was the inevitable pitch invasion, which can be frustrating when you’re in the upper tier, but after attempting to prevent it, the police and stewards gave up and allowed the pitch to fill with dancing Forest fans, who caught hold of numerous players including Junior Agogo and Chris Cohen.  After it had died down and everyone was off the team re-emerged for a deserved lap of honour, taking applause from all the Forest fans as well as the numerous Yeovil fans who had remained to take in the celebrations.

After attempting a hand-holding length-of-the-pitch run and Klinsmann-type dive, the excitement got the better of the fans again who encroached and almost collided with the players; but what a day, the like of which it seems so long since we’ve witnessed!  I found myself almost numb and disbelieving after the dancing and the singing had died down, I don’t think it’s going to sink in properly until some time in the middle of next week.  So I’ll write it down.  We finished second, we’re definitely promoted to the Championship, we don’t have to play in the playoffs, and we’re playing Derby next year!

I became fond of Forest after making a visit to the City Ground in Nottingham.  For that story, with a cameo by Nottingham Castle and unavoidable Robin Hood references, along with some musings on the relegation concept, read on!