Category — Mexico

The Love Letter

Dear Frankie,

You know how they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Frankly, Frankie, I don’t even know what that means. I just know that when I behold you, my heart explodes.

It isn’t your looks; Alexi Lalas and Cobi Jones had better hair in their prime. It certainly isn’t your youthfulness; to tell the truth, you’re getting on in years. It definitely isn’t your touch; that is always too hard or too soft, never “just right,” you know?

What sets you apart, Frankie, is that you’re passionate. No one else exudes unbridled excitement for the game like you do. During the national anthem, while Kasey Keller sang along and the other players stood with quiet reverence, you could hardly stop shaking. The look in your eyes took my breath away.

And Frankie, when you raised your arm to block D-Ro’s headbutt and the referee wrote your name in his little black book, I could hardly contain my jealous anger. He had no right to do that to you. He had no right to do that to us.

I understand that you have to cancel our date on Sunday. I won’t lie and tell you it doesn’t hurt. It does. Just know that I’ll be thinking of you.

xoxo

The Pink Slip

Dear Eddie Johnson:

First of all, let me say that I think you are a nice guy who means well.

Unfortunately, that’s just not enough for us. It just seems like you aren’t driven to succeed.

Look at your co-workers, Eddie. They are doing everything they can to help advance your career. They get the ball to you every way they can: over the top, by way of a through ball (our company’s bread and butter!), or a quick one-two. But, most of the time, you are just plain uncooperative. Your peers don’t always want the ball back, Eddie. Sometimes, they want you to think inside the 18-yard box and run with the idea.

Last night, when your feeble “shot on goal” trickled into the hands of the Canadian keeper, Landon Donovan half-heartedly applauded your effort. The fact is, he knows—we all know—that it isn’t enough.

I think this fast-paced, high-pressure environment is too much for you but I wish you luck in the future. And, Eddie, if the real world shuts you out, I’m sure there will always be a place for you in MLS.

The Eviction Notice

Oh Canada…

Just before the game began last night, I told my wife how lucky we are to have neighbors like you. I explained that you are a quiet, respectful neighbor; the kind with whom we could share a beer, even if it is Labatt Blue, which we only pretend to like. Moreover, unlike some other neighbors, the thought of playing in our yard with you didn’t make us queasy.

Last night, though, things got a little out of hand. Little Iain, who appears to have spent too much time on a frozen lake with a stick and puck, cross-checked one of our guys. A little later, another one of your children—I forget his name—did the same to Landon. Later, your favorite son, Dwayne, did something awful to our boy, Frankie (he called it a “Zidane,” whatever that is).

And that isn’t the worst of it. Remember that unspecified neighbor I mentioned earlier? It turns out they provided the referee for the game last night. Somehow, he managed to miss all of the aforementioned incidents. Canada, if you’re going to be chumming it up with that neighbor, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to move in with him. I’m sure it’ll be rough at first—you guys seemed pretty upset with him last night. But once he explains that, for 93 minutes, he tried to give you the game, you’ll patch things up.

This weekend, we’re going on a vacation to a place called the “Gold Cup Finals.” When we get back on Sunday night, it would be best if you weren’t around. We don’t care where you go (south maybe?) but you can’t stay here with the attitude you showed last night.

The Instant Message

Hi Mex how r u?

Nice try w/ teh ref. LOL!

C U Sunday.

Paraguay 1-0 Mexico; at the Azteca, no less.

Let’s get this out of the way first: Who’s house?!? Our house!!!

For me, there were three big takeaways from the United States’ 2-0 win over Mexico in Arizona:

1) Class

The word “class” has a couple connotations in the world of soccer. The first refers to the level of play. In that sense, Mexico showed a good bit of class last night. They played a high-pressure game and were close to burying the U.S. many times. In this sense, the U.S. also displayed class by withstanding the Mexican onslaught and converting the two of maybe four or five real chances.

The second definition of the word “class” refers to the the amount of dignity with which one carries oneself. This game provided us with good indicators of Mexico’s class. A few Mexico fans showed their class by trying to hit Bobby Convey with what the English would identify as “missiles” while he took a corner kick. We saw the class of the Mexican side when Bocanegra looked to be injured after sliding into a row of media and they took a quick throw-in. We saw their class throughout the game when, at the slightest bit of incidental contact, the Mexican players flopped in ways that would make the Portuguese blush. Oswaldo Sanchez showed his class after Landon Donovan scored the insurance goal by lunging at Eddie Johnson. Hugo Sanchez showed his class by leading his humiliated team off the pitch without so much as acknowledging the U.S. side.

There are two definitions of the word class. In the latter sense, Mexico are, always have been, and always will be completely without class.

2) Landon Donovan

I’m hard on Landon Donovan—and not just because we haven’t received a thank-you card for the wedding gift we sent but Landon showed us a couple things last night.

First, he can be very effective when he’s facing the goal and using his speed. If Bobby Convey displayed the composure that Landon showed, the final score would have been 3-0. Landon’s touch around the Mexican keeper was that of a cold-blooded clinician and was reminiscent of a fuller-haired Donovan.

The second thing about Donovan is actually something we’ve known for awhile. He simply is not good on set pieces. The prototypical example occurred in the 61st minute when the U.S. had a free kick from a dangerous spot just outside the Mexican box. Instead of trying to bend the ball to the far post or chipping the ball into the mix, Landon kind of passed/squirted/shanked a worm-burner to absolutely no one. His fans will say that his assist from the corner kick was brilliant but he played a high-arcing hospital ball that Conrad did very well to finish.

Landon cannot play with his back to goal and looked awful until he was moved into the midfield where he was in a position to exploit his strengths and make the Mexicans pay. I’m not quite ready to welcome him back into the fold but he was very good last night.

3) ESPN

Despite producing—count ‘em!—64 samples of the world’s game last summer, ESPN still doesn’t have it figured out. Amazingly, the bothersome thing about last night’s telecast wasn’t Dave O’Brien. In fact, until he made the chicken piccata joke in the post-game comments, I thought he was tolerable.

What really bothered me was the ridiculous angles and tight shots on which the director insisted. These shots are great in other sports but ESPN clearly does not understand soccer stylistically. The sport is one of team movement and flow that cannot be captured with tight pushes and taking two similar angles (one tight and one wide) back-to-back, resulting in an amateur jump-cut effect.

As Soccer Dad alluded to in the comments last night, I began to wonder who handed out the Bob Bradley pom-poms to the ESPN staff before the game. The way Rob Stone and Bruce Arena drooled over him was silly. Yes, Bob’s team has won two games but two games does not a brilliant coach make.

And Bruce. My God, Bruce. The night started out poorly for Arena when he pretended to answer a question from Dave O’Brien but was unable to hide the fact that he had practiced and memorized his response only minutes earlier. One could almost sense a semicolon or two as he spoke. Later in the game, while prattling on about something, he mentioned DaMarcus Beasley and his club, Manchester United. Of course, Beasley doesn’t play for Manchester United but for their bitter rivals, Manchester City. This from a guy who claimed to have coaching offers in Europe?

I thought Wynalda was great but I always think that.

Also—and this is a small thing—do they really need five commentators? The only thing missing last night was a drunk Joe Namath asking Allen Hopkins for a kiss.

Bob Bradley did not call in the full complement of European-based players for the match with Mexico tonight. I’m sure there will be much more to say about the sagacity of that decision once we know the result. For right now, that decision means that Oguchi Onyewu will not be around to make the Mexicans very, very afraid.

Of course, that shouldn’t stop us from remembering one of the greatest moments in this storied rivalry. Look and smile, my friends:

Are you ready for some football?