From the owners of the club, to the manager, to a whole host of players past and present and onward to “19″— I’m not a fan.

So, you’d naturally think I’d be supporting Barcelona in Saturday’s Champions League final.

Lefty. Progressive. Unicef.

But I can’t. And it has nothing to do with the Qatar Foundation.

Remember when

After the 5-0 destruction of Real Madrid last November, I, like everyone else who follows the game, thought Barcelona undoubtedly the best team in the world. It was a beautifully masterful display, sublime in its effortlessness.

But then came that series of El Clasicos.

Remember how exciting the anticipation was? Four El Clasicos in little more than two weeks! A league title, a cup championship, passage to the Champions League final—all were at stake.

“Thank the gods, I’m alive to see this”

And what did you see?

A Barcelona whose play was based on the disgustingly cynical conceit of entitled greatness and lots of fouls.

He fell over. So did he. Then the whole team swarmed the ref.

If Barcelona were a single player, right now the club would be Cristiano Ronaldo—gifted like no one else of his generation (save one guy!), regularly producing astonishing, head shaking displays of skill, and all of that overshadowed by a propensity for petulance, whining, and diving.

Beautiful. Great.

Ugly. Embarrassing.

For myself…

I get behind players and teams who make do with much less—less skill, less reputation, less indulgence from officials—not to mention the relentless churnings of a media machine that extends from player’s agents, to clubs, to advertisers and football confederations and everything else that weighs on who to believe in.

I support players and teams that manage to achieve with dignity and grit.

You know, like the Union.

So, on Saturday, I won’t be behind Barcelona. l be rooting for soccer.

I’ll be rooting for Messi, and for Park, for Puyol and Vidic, for Valdes and van der Sar. I’ll be rooting for tough but clean play, and I’ll be rooting for beauty.

I’ll be rooting for that transcendental moment when time slows down, when an entire lifetime of playing and watching the game connects with events occurring thousands of miles away.

Making the move, defending the move, trying the shot, trying to make the save, warming up, watching from the stands.

Your breath stops, and you are there.

The bigger picture

I’ll be rooting for the ever renewed—and ever expanding—love for the world’s game in Philadelphia and beyond.

I’ll be rooting for soccer in America.

The final will be broadcast on Fox. True, it hasn’t been accompanied with the usual curious mixture of “the time is now” versus “it will never be” coverage that is the World Cup in this country. Still, access to the Champions League final will be available to American viewers running the wide spectrum of soccer interestedness at a level that otherwise only reliably occurs when it’s the World Cup final.

In that regard, the last World Cup final was a missed opportunity.

The Dutch, inventors of total football. Spain, featuring so many Barcelona players—the final should have been magnificent. Instead, my abiding memory of it is one of ugliness and frustrating boredom.

Missed calls. Diving. Unaccountable writhing—who could blame the unconvinced American viewer for getting the spectacle but not getting the game.

Hopefully, this Champions League final will be different.

One team will win.

I only hope the game wins, too.

If you want to learn about the history check out this site dedicated to the rivalry.

The ego? Just look at the spending. While it’s easy to point the finger at Madrid as the big ticket buyers, this is a Barcelona team that – with the World Player of the Year on their books – paid 60 million pounds (plus Samuel Eto’o) for Zlatan Ibrahimovic then loaned him out and dropped a cool 44 million pounds on David Villa. And 36 million on Dani Alves. And 25 million on Javier Mascherano.

But you know all this.

Test runs are over

Now that we are two matches into this unprecedented run of four meetings in under three weeks, the big test has arrived: 180 minutes to determine who goes to the Champions League final. Leave the history aside. At this point, the matches are a tactician’s dream. How often do you get two chances to test out your tactics against an opponent? To try something and see how well it works?

The best manager in the world has taken his Madrid team from 5-0 losers to 1-0 Cup winners in two games. Should Barcelona be worried?

Oh yes. They should.

Blaugreatness

Ever since Barcelona anointed themselves Best Team in the World, they have played one style of soccer: A tika-takka possession system taught at every level of their prosperous academy. But Barcelona is not hiding the ball. Maxwell Kuhl recently described it as a case of “possession game permanently leaning forward.” And when they lose it, Barca doesn’t let you possess: Their defense is leaning forward too.

So confident are the Blaugrana in their style of play that Xavi Hernandez recently said, “Inter won the Champions League but no one talks about them.”

Of course, Xavi left out one important bit of information. Nobody talks about Inter, but everybody talks about Mourinho.

Special one (Why not? Very nice)

It is the rare manager who has the ability to make overpaid, pampered players understand the gestalt of the game. A team united is greater than the sum of its parts. Over the two legs against Barca in 2010, Inter Milan was a better team. In the first match they counterattacked with purpose and precision, never pushing unless they spied a weakness.

The second leg is remembered for Inter’s incredible “ninety of nothing.” The Italian champions never even tried to leave their half of the field. But a close watching of the match reveals something more important: Inter rarely even left their own eighteen yard box. Barcelona has, at any one time, about six players who can nail a free kick from 35 yards and in. What Mourinho showed that night was that they wouldn’t do it in open play.

The plan is the plan! There is no other plan

Barca has no Plan B. They won’t speed up or change the point of their attack. It is what it is. Lucky for Barca, it’s damn hard to stop. No amount of tactical preparation can stop Barcelona without an exceedingly high quality of player on the pitch. Mourinho has those players at Real Madrid, and for the past two games he has dared Barcelona to step outside of their comfort zone. They have refused.

There will be minor changes for both teams going into the first leg of their Champions League match. Carvalho is unavailable for Madrid. Puyol should be back for Barca.

Unless the Catalan team can learn to adjust on the fly (put in the occasional cross, perhaps?), the result will be similar to the past two. Between the November blowout and the April 16th tie, Real Madrid found an identity as a team that has so much offensive talent it can win while rarely leaving its defensive shape.

It’s a trick Inter learned last year. Will Barcelona learn a new trick? Or will they once again entrust the European Championship to the tika-takka gods?

Eli and I will have a full analysis and player ratings after the first leg of this fantastic soccer event. Tell us what you think about Madrid and Barcelona. Is it over-hyped? Did the first two matchups get your adrenaline pumping or do you wish they’d just start playing other teams already?

Questions for Real Madrid fans

1. Really? You’re not bothered by the whole fascism thing? I mean, it’s cool. Just making sure.
2. First leg at home. A lot of teams like it the other way around. Can you build a lead in the first leg? That would require playing a full 90 like the first 45 of the Copa del Rey.
3. How will you cope without Carvalho? He was pretty bad in the 5-0 loss. He was pretty great in the last two matches.
4. Has Mourinho solved Barca? Or have we just seen a pair of fantastic defensive efforts?
5. Higuain was great against Valencia. Should he start?

Questions for Barcelona fans

1. Do you change anything in your approach? Barca is supremely confident in their system, but they haven’t scored in open play against Madrid in 210 minutes.
2. Should Barca sit back and wait for the second leg to attack? Cruyff will cringe if they do.
3. Will the Blaugrana ever cross the ball? Maybe just once? See what it feels like?
4. Who should play left back? Adriano was beaten on the winning header in the Copa del Rey. Should Maxwell get on the pitch?
5. Should Mascherano step in for Busquets? Sergio is a great player but he has been less than effective in the past two games against Madrid.

Looking back, I have to place the blame not at the feet of the juvenile siblings but rather the solemnity of the service. Years later, while working on a service project in the Bahamas, I had the chance to attend mass at a Baptist church. I was shocked when I witnessed singing, dancing, and clapping. The energy and enthusiasm were palpable. I was captivated. The atmosphere was electric.

Fast-forward to 2008 and the Theater of Dreams, Old Trafford, home of Manchester United. My first experience with live English football just so happened to be the Northwest derby and one of the most heated rivalries in world football, Manchester United  versus Liverpool. I was blown away: by the size of the stadium, the green of the grass, the massive dimensions of the pitch, and just how frigging cold it is in England in March.

But most of all, I was blown away by the atmosphere. I sat in the “Clock End,” opposite the famed Stretford End (and preferred second half target of the Red Devils). It would have been an unremarkable area if not for it being adjacent to the traveling Liverpool supporters. For no less than two hours, the away fans sang their hearts out, from the iconic “You’ll Never Walk Alone” to the simplistic “Ja-vi-er Ma-sche-ra-no! Ja-vi-er Ma-sche-ra-no!”

Despite being trounced 3-nil—and the aforementioned Señor Mascherano getting an early shower—the Scousers never stopped singing. As a result, several MUFC fans in my section never stopped hurling abuse. Either way, it was an incredible atmosphere, the greatest source of live entertainment to which I’d ever been exposed.

The next year, as a birthday present, my mother purchased me a ticket to a European Champions League game: Bayern Munich versus Barcelona. I didn’t realize just how amazing this gift was until I stepped off the train and saw the glowing orb that is the Allianz. From the outside, the arena in Munich is an architectural marvel. On the inside it is a boiling cauldron of chanting, singing, and flag waving.

From high atop the second tier, I was ensconced in a sea of colored flags and banners. The synchronicity of the booming chants proved a cacophonous weapon for the home fans against mighty Barca, already with a three goal-aggregate lead. It may have also been the impetus for the game’s opener, a stunning strike from Franck Ribery. What you can’t hear on television is that every time Ribery finds the net, the stadium finds the song, “Le Champs Elysees” by Joe Dassin, a homage to the winger’s French heritage. Despite Seydou Keita equalizing and putting the tie out of reach, you get the sense that, if nothing else, everyone left the stadium thoroughly entertained.

After all, football is about entertainment. Isn’t it?

Why then do I feel like I’m back kneeling at the pew, scolded for my sacrilege? So-called purists of the game will complain about modern footballers: the neon-colored shoes, the tribal tattoos, the look-at-me haircuts, and the ultimate desecration of their holy ground: goal celebrations. The ranting and raving of the purists would have you believe they want to return to the days when footballers wore button-down shirts, black work boots and feebly tried to move 20-lb. sewn balls. And sometimes it feels like FIFA, and several football associations around the world, feel the same.

Last week, Neymar, the impossibly gifted Brazilian international and (for the time being) Santos forward, was sent off after being booked for wearing a mask emblazoned with his own likeness. Neymar, after carving up the Colo Colo defense on his way to the third goal in the Copa Libertadores contest, took the mask from a fan and duly obliged him by sticking it on, albeit upside-down. The referee, none too pleased, brandished a yellow card to young Neymar, his second of the evening, sealing his exit.

The previous weekend, AC Milan forward Antonio Cassano, far and away the most skilled Italian playing the game today, was booked for removing his shirt after scoring an incredibly important penalty against city rival, Internazionale. A benign gesture at the time, it later proved fatal when he inexplicably pulled down a rushing Inter player to receive his second yellow and marching orders.

Who me? What about the guy with no pants?

Which brings us to our beloved domestic competition, Major League Soccer. Eric Hassli, French forward for expansion franchise Vancouver Whitecaps, was sent off last week for celebrating a goal against New England for removing his shirt. The referee was unimpressed and, even though Hassli was wearing another Whitecaps top underneath, presented him with his second yellow card of the match.

Now, while I can’t condone Roma’s Mirko Vucinic’s de-pantsing trick from last year’s Euro qualifiers, I can empathize with the above predicaments. Why do we demonize celebration? Why do we adopt a puritanical approach to the most hedonistic of sports? Scoring a goal is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Some have gone so far as to rank its resulting euphoria above the pleasure of sex (I might need to quote Lori Petty in Pointbreak here though and say maybe you’re not doing it right, then).

Nevertheless, scoring a goal is an amazing feeling. Whether it’s in a five-a-side pickup game, a high school championship or in front of 80,000 at the San Siro, it is a wonderful thing. Goals, like those who score them, come in all different forms—delicate chips, blasted volleys, nutmegs, backheels, and headers. Goals are great to watch. But every so often, the goal is surpassed by the goal celebration.

I’ve been watching televised soccer for almost 20 years and in that time I’ve seen choreographed dance routines, corner flag boxing bouts, backflips, and fake boat rides. I’ve watched Romario rock his air baby, Cantona look disgusted with the mortals around him and Fabio Grosso look to be on the verge of tears. I’ve seen Totti suck his thumb and Tevez suck his binky. I’ve seen undershirts with messages written on them, from “Free Palestine” to “Feliz Cumpleanos.” Just this past weekend, Argentinian side Velez Sarsfield celebrated a goal and a “cumpleanos” simultaneously when Santiago Silva ran to the touchline to retrieve a lit candle in honor of a teammate’s birthday.

Sure, sometimes these elaborate gestures don’t go off quite as planned. Two weeks ago we all saw Jermain Defoe’s “100” message written on a shirt underneath his jersey, despite the fact that he failed to score his century goal. Then there are the neo-Nazi salutes, the throat slashes, and a whole host of abusive gestures such as the middle finger and the Barry Ferguson “V”.

But, even the most misguided celebrations are often entertaining. And isn’t that what football is all about? It’s the reason we pay way too much for “authentic” replica kits, the reason we save for travel and ticket costs, the reason we plunk down hard-earned dough week in and week out—so we can share in the pleasure, share in the spectacle, be a part of the drama.

I know, I know—a match-winner removing his top can incite fan violence. Has that ever really happened though?  And if so, doesn’t it say more about the person reacting violently to someone removing his shirt than the bare-chested player himself?

Maybe it’s our puritanical roots. Maybe it’s our jealousy. Whatever the reason, it’s ridiculous to think we should expect our heroes to shuffle back to the midway line silently, like nuns in the cloister, heads bowed in reverence for their savior, Sepp Blatter. And maybe that’s exactly what the so-called “purists” want too.

But not me. I’ll be standing, I’ll be cheering, I’ll be chanting. And when Nani follows up a left-footed strike with a perfect 10 backflip, I’ll be applauding both. Because it’s fun. Because it’s entertainment. Because it’s football, bloody hell.

It ain’t church.

Soccer can be the spark that ignites the flames of war

"War Christmas, 1914"

In an already existing atmosphere of heightened political tensions over the borders between El Salvador and Honduras, the qualifying matches for the 1970 World Cup between those two countries led to La guerra del fútbol or “The Football War.” After 100 hours of combat some 3,000 soldiers and civilians were dead and hundreds of thousands of civilians had been displaced. After the war, because each country had won the home leg of their qualifiers, a play-off had to be played, which El Salvador won. They didn’t make it out of the group stages of the World Cup in Mexico and some four decades later the demarcation of the new borders between the two countries has yet to be formalized.

Soccer can be the symbol that finally turns the page on a long ended war

After Holland beat Germany in the semi finals of Euro 1988, an estimated 70% of the population poured into the streets for the largest spontaneous celebration in Holland since its liberation by the Allies in World War Two. Sure, it was revenge for the defeats suffered by Holland against West Germany in the 1974 World Cup Final and in the first round of the 1980 European Championship. But the bitter rivalry between “the Cheeseheads” and “the Krauts” has it’s foundation in World War Two. In 1988, for one night, Holland settled the score.

Soccer can also stop a war, if only for a day

The First World War began in August, 1914. Troops on both sides went to war believing that it would all be over by Christmas. By December, tens of thousand were killed and wounded, trenches had been dug across the length of the Western Front, and peace was four long years away.

Some of the trenches were close enough to one another that voices could be heard from those opposite. On Christmas Eve, 1914, German troops began to decorate their trenches with candles and to sing Christmas songs. British troops answered with Christmas songs of their own. Soon, small parties of troops began to enter No Man’s Land to exchange Christmas greetings and presents with those who, only hours before, they had been expected to kill on sight.

British and German Troops, Christmas Truce, 1914

Many British soldiers had enlisted in the army with groups of friends to form units that were consciously identified with soccer such as the Chelsea “Die Hards” of the 17th Middlesex Regiment and the “2nd Footballers” of the 21st Middlesex Regiment. On the German side, the 133rd Saxon Regiment had a proud pre-war football record.

Officers and soldiers found themselves talking soccer with their enemies. Soon impromptu games were being played with “goals made from caps and frozen sentries, balls from jam-tin bombs and ‘Ole Bill’ woolly mufflers.” In one sector, a British colonel reported that, though the Germans wanted to play a match, the Scots Guards facing them across No Man’s Land were unable to supply a ball.

In Frélinghien, France, British soldiers from Royal Welch Fusiliers faced German soldiers of the Saxon Infantry and the Prussian Jäger. After exchanging two barrels of beer and a Christmas pudding, a match was played. Some 94 years later, soldiers from the descendant units of those which had met during the Christmas Truce played another soccer match where the first had been played before the unveiling of a memorial to commemorate the event.

Such impromptu cease fires were viewed as anathema to military discipline and commanders on both sides were quick to forbid their re-occurrence under threat of swift punishment. Even still, French and German troops managed a Christmas truce in 1915.

While some revisionist historians have questioned whether soccer matches took place during the Christmas Truce, the evidence that they did can be found in the scores of letters, notes, diaries and oral histories of soldiers from both sides. One soldier, Alfred Anderson, described the “eerie sound of silence” as the fighting stopped and soldiers emerged from their trenches to exchange Christmas greetings. Anderson was the sole surviving soldier to have experienced the Christmas Truce when he died at the age of 109 in 2005.

So, in this holiday season, should you have a conversation with some friends or family who “just don’t get this soccer thing,” you can tell them about the games in No Man’s Land, about how soccer stopped a war, if only for a few hours, on the cold, muddy, shell-marked fields of the Western Front.

Click here to view the embedded video.

A version of this article originally appeared on December 25, 2009.

There are many ways to define “best player.” The most talented; most influential; most in-form; the best player on the best team are all common definitions of the term. And for the 2009-10 season, they all define Wesley Sneijder.

While there are myriad ways to define the best player in the world, there is one clear way to know you made the wrong choice: When the three finalists are selected, they are all on the same club team. And that team did not win Champions League.

The finalsts are, in order of probability that they will win, Xavi Hernandez, Leonel Messi, and Andres Iniesta. The latter is there because he scored the goal that won the World Cup. Messi is the most talented player in the world. But Xavi is the odds-on favorite to win.

Xavi

Why Xavi? The reasons seem to topple over one another. They call him the maestro. His orchestra is the most talented group of footballers (assembled at considerable expense) in the world. Xavi completes more passes per game than any other player, over 100 in 90 minutes on many occasions. He is the offensive engine of a team that was built for him. His club manager, Pep Guardiola, occupied Xavi’s role on the Barcelona squad before joining its coaching ranks. Modern soccer is a business, and star players are always moving between teams. Xavi has stayed in the Barcelona system his entire career, and when Deco was hit by injuries and began his decline, the Barcelona team was molded to Xavi’s style of play.

Xavi trots around the midfield, moving the ball and changing the angles of play until they line up for him. If you didn’t know better, you might think he was trying to check off every player on his Passing Bingo card. What he is really doing is playing God with the universe of the field, moving players like a deity arranges planets. Xavi’s success has garnered such respect from his teammates, that he almost always receives the ball when he checks into space, and his team rarely tries to start an attack without the red stamp approval of a Xavi forward pass.

He plays the same role on the Spanish national team. And Xavi benefits from the unique TV rights system in Spain that allows each team to negotiate its own deal. Barcelona and Real Madrid, flush with television money, own almost all of the Spanish national team players. This makes the transition from club to country easier for the Spanish than for most national sides.

Sneijder

In contrast, Wesley Sneijder is the only Dutchman on Internationale Milan. He arrived before the 2009-10 season after an ignominious spell at Real Madrid. When he signed with Inter Sneijder said, “Leaving Madrid is not a defeat. They have treated me very bad, but I prefer not to speak, really.”

Sneijder arrived at a club that had just sold its top striker, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, to Xavi’s Barcelona. Ibra was more than a goalscorer for Inter, he was the hub through which the offense flowed. His unique blend of size, skill and speed had been nary unstoppable in Italy, and Inter could only replace him with aging sniper Diego Milito and Barcelona reject Samuel Eto’o. Both players were more traditional strikers than Ibra, and Sneijder was asked to become the central playmaker after spending a year as an afterthought at Real.

There is little denying that Sneijder was joining a talented team. Inter was looking for a fifth straight Serie A title, but the true goal was Champions League. President Massimo Moratti had recruited Ibrahimovic and manager Jose Mourinho with the European crown in mind. Acquiring Sneijder was something of a coup, but after a season in which he started less than half of Madrid’s La Liga matches how much could Inter expect from their tiny Oranje?

A lot. A Golden Ball’s worth of a lot. Sneijder had 4 goals and 6 assists in 26 Serie A matches, and his exceptional free kicks made opponents wary of committing fouls within 30 yards of goal. In less than one season he became to Inter what it took Xavi a career to become for Barcelona. In fact, he was more. Sneijder did not have the benefits of Ballon d’Or winner Messi or Xavi-level creative force Iniesta for assistance. Instead, Inter lined up with some combination of the elderly Cambiasso, the limited Thiago Motta, the sullen Muntari, and the out-of-position Zanetti behind their Dutch attacker. With an offensive complement like that, who needs strikers, right?

Yet, Inter had strikers. Milito may be getting up there in years, but he was a force for Genoa in 2008-09. Eto’o may have been unceremoniously dumped by Barcelona, but he was still one of the best three African footballers on the planet. But as Rooney and Heskey, Higuain and Benzema, and Berbatov and anyone besides Robbie Keane will tell you, just putting two forwards together doesn’t guarantee goals. A striker’s job is to finish. This definition necessitates a start, or in soccer lingo: Service. Barcelona has about ten players on the pitch at any given time that provide better service than Sully Muntari. Inter relied on Wesley Sneijder to bring Milito and Eto’o into the game and force opposing defenses to respect the Inter counterattack.

So Sneijder pulls on the blue and black shirt and in his first season turns provider for an entirely new strike force. He leads them to victory in Coppa Italia and keeps them on top in Serie A. Meanwhile, Xavi takes Barcelona to the top of La Liga but cannot prevent a Round of 16 exit against Sevilla. While both players are deserving of high marks, they will meet twice more before a Ballon d’Or verdict can be rendered.

Champions League

Inter and Barcelona met in the semi-finals of the 2009-10 Champions League. The first leg was played at the San Siro in Milan, and Sneijder was the star of the show. He opened the scoring in the 30th and moved the ball with ease and precision in the face of relentless Barcelona pressure. One of the reasons it’s so hard to defeat Barcelona is that their defensive pressure is as good as their passing. Only a player of immense technical ability can run an offense in the face of such disciplined and aggressive zonal marking. The 3-1 scoreline in favor of Inter Milan shows that Sneijder is such a player.

In the second leg at the Camp Nou, Sneijder was asked to carry a heavy defensive load after Motta received a first half red card. Inter survived and went on to win their first Champions League trophy since 1964-65. Sneijder had the assist on the winning goal. It was one of six assists and three goals Sneijder picked up during his eleven games of the tournament.

World Cup

The next time Xavi and Sneijder met was the World Cup final. Xavi’s Spain was the favorite. And although he has been given immeasurable credit for their success, it can be argued that Xavi was only the third most important player on the Spain squad. David Villa scored five of Spain’s eight goals (eight goals in five games? That’s it?) Meanwhile, Sergio Busquets was reinventing the holding midfield position by dropping deep between the center backs and starting the Spanish offense from deep in his own half.

Spain got to the final despite an underwhelming cup performance from Fernando Torres. The Netherlands got to the final despite stilted performances from striker Robin van Persie and winger/striker Rafael van der Vaart. If only a tiny leader would step forward to lead the Oranje through this difficult period…

Sneijder had five goals and an assist in seven World Cup matches. He scored with his feet and his head and was the most dangerous player on the Dutch team.

The Facts

Remember: The Ballon d’Or is awarded for performance over the course of one year; it’s not a lifetime achievement award. Xavi: Same team his whole career, team built for him, La Liga title, no league cup, World Cup title.

Sneijder: New team, new strikers, jettisoned by his former club, no Iniesta at his side, no Ballon d’Or winner in front of him, Serie A title, league cup title, Champions League title.

Nobody can say that Xavi is anything less than a brilliant footballer. But nobody can look at these facts and say he deserves the Ballon d’Or over Wesley Sneijder.

About to get PAID

Aside from determining a champion, a major subplot of the World Cup finals is the emergence of world-class young talent.  Players stepping out of the shadows on this stage tend to earn themselves enormous contracts as the biggest club’s in Europe look to gain in quality and notoriety by snapping up those players who make their mark on the world stage.  After a breakout campaign that made German supporters forget all about injured captain Michael Ballack, 21 year old phenom Mesut Ozil recently became one of this summer’s biggest transfer signings, having been lured to Real Madrid by new manager Jose Mourinho.  Ozil departs Werder Bremen following a summer where most major clubs made their pitch for one of world soccer’s brightest young talents.  Manchester United, Manchester City, Chelsea and Barcelona were all rumored to have tabled enormous bids before Ozil made his final choice to take up residence at the Santiago Bernabeu in Spain’s capital city.

Isn't that special

With the beginning of La Liga play just around the corner and renewed expectations of Champions League glory higher than ever, Mourinho has proven yet again that despite his self-aggrandizing speech, his “The Special One” nickname is incredibly apt.  After all this is the manager who took new money Chelsea on a dynastic tirade through England and departed the West London club only to win the Scudetto with Inter Milan in 2009 before completing the treble this past season (League, Cup and Champions League winners in the same year).  And before all of those successes, there is the small matter of the Champions League title he won with Porto in 2004.  Their only defeat of that competition came at the hands of… Real Madrid.  It seems only fitting that with nothing left to win, Mourinho is trying to do it all again in a new league, with the biggest club in Europe, having to overtake Barcelona in the process.

Not a bad signing

In his first transfer window at the controls of Real Madrid, Jose Mourinho has put a stamp on the club very reminiscent of his early dealings with Chelsea.  Before his hands were tied and he was forced to accept aging superstars like Andriy Shevchenko and Michael Ballack, Mourinho splashed owner Roman Abramovich’s cash on loads of young talent in an effort to build a balanced side that could compete at the highest level for years.  This was no Man City hatchet job, buying everything in site, throwing them on the pitch and praying for results.  There was method and purpose in his decision-making and while certain big name signings never panned out during their time with the Blues; Mateja Kezman, Shaun Wright-Phillips and Arjen Robben, Mourinho managed to build himself a backbone of talent that led Chelsea to greatness for many years in Petr Cech, Didier Drogba, Paulo Ferreira, Ricardo Carvalho, Michael Essien, Ashley Cole and John Obi Mikel.  With this group, Mourinho helped himself to two Premier League titles to go with an FA Cup and a League Cup.

I'm too special for my suit

Fast forward to summer 2010 and Mourinho finds himself in arguably the most challenging job in world soccer.  He replaces Chilean Manuel Pellegrini, whose sacking after one season would be shocking in most situations, considering that his side maintained such splendid league form that their two-horse race with Barcelona stretched the point gap between second and third to an obscenely large 25 points.  Pellegrini’s dismissal and the recent lack of hardware has made the Real Madrid job the ultimate pressure cooker of “WIN NOW” mentality. Tack on a lengthy injury spell on the sidelines for Brazilian superstar Kaka and already the newly appointed manager has an enormous mountain to climb, both domestically and in European competition.  This is not to say that should Mourinho fail to capture the Champions League or La Liga glory in his first attempt that he too will be on the chopping block after only one season.  His pedigree alone has earned him the chance to establish himself, select his players and build a team, but if the results do not follow swiftly, relations in Madrid could deteriorate rapidly.

Talk about special

Getting off to a fast start in his new role, Mourinho has gone out and assembled an exceptional collection of new players for the upcoming season.  In addition to Mesut Ozil, Real have captured powerful German midfielder Sami Khedira (another player who had an immense World Cup) from Stuttgart, highly regarded Argentine winger Angel di Maria from Benfica and setup a reunion with former Chelsea security blanket Ricardo Carvalho.  Throw into the mix Sergio Canales and Pedro Leon, two highly talented homegrown youth players being given their official promotion to first team soccer, and it is clear that Real Madrid is a much deeper side, a direct reaction to their most recent early Champions League exit.  With a grueling domestic season ahead, all the time chasing Barcelona, creating depth within his squad is paramount and all of Mourinho’s new signings can slot into Madrid’s starting eleven without breaking stride, regardless of the competition.

Mark your calendars

Whether or not Real Madrid can overtake Barcelona remains to be seen, but anyone hoping for parity across the Spanish table this year looks to be in for a disappointing season.  However, this year’s edition of El Clasico looks set to be one of the best yet.  On Sunday, 28 November 2010, Real Madrid visits Barcelona and the return leg in Madrid takes place on Sunday, 17 April 2011.  It would be hard to imagine anything other than those two ties deciding the Spanish Champion for the 2010-2011 season.

The Magpies even threatened to open the scoring themselves; Wayne Routledge took advantage of an exposed left flank following a rush by defender John O’Shea in the 8^th minute, but Manchester’s central defense held firm against the ensuing cross; Andrew Carroll, active throughout and unmarked on a corner kick in the 11^th minute, headed just wide a ball he should have put away.

While each side experienced their mutual frustrations, the tribulations of Wayne Rooney seemed entirely singular, as the formerly lauded wunderkind of English football tries to emerge from the hadal depths…

As the pressure built, however, Newcastle showed shades of a Championship side, with Nani continuously being the source of their troubles. In a span of four minutes (18^th; 22^nd) he was blatantly fouled twice, each infraction drawing a well deserved yellow; Joey Barton was booked a for a poor attempt at a tackle as Nani surged ahead with menace; James Perch brought him down from behind after Nani got around him while tracking down a bouncing goal kick close to the area.

Their composure seemingly set to completely unravel, Newcastle nearly gifted Dimitar Berbatov a ball in the box in the 27^th minute. The ensuing blind outlet went straight to a pouncing Paul Scholes who somehow managed not to blast it into the back of the net. Three minutes later, only the keeper’s outstretched hand kept Nani from connecting with Berbatov on the far post.

While each side experienced their mutual frustrations, the tribulations of Wayne Rooney seemed entirely singular, as the formerly lauded wunderkind of English football tries to emerge from the hadal depths to which he has descended. Only in maneuvering around defenders could he display a deftness of form, for his finishing was entirely lacking.

So it was with a bit of irony that Berbatov, usually of the masterful near miss, opened the scoring in the 33^rd.

He fired harmlessly wide twice in the opening 15 minutes, his ire compounded by back to back last gasp defending by Newcastle; Fabricio Coloccini denied a goal mouth shot following a feed from the right by Valencia; a sure breakaway was subsequently prevented just as he looked ready to rush forward. A misfire at the top of the box followed in the 20^th; in the 31^st Berbatov headed down a Valencia cross only for Rooney to fire wide into the seats. Again, he followed with a hard charging run that was killed off before it could bear any potential.

So it was with a bit of irony that Berbatov, usually of the masterful near miss, opened the scoring in the 33^rd. Following a Newcastle turnover as they tried to bring it out of their end, Scholes collected to lead Berbatov just off the right post, the keeper helpless as the Bulgarian passed it into the opposite corner with his left foot.

Joey Barton beat Nani down the right side in the 38^th, but his shot, like any others Newcastle would manage for the remainder, went directly to Van der Sar. Better chances would come, but the accuracy was never adjusted.

In the 42^nd, Nani, the most dynamic player on the field by far, with rushes down the wing and up the middle, threaded a ball into the area for a surging Patrice Evra, who lashed a pass across that found Darren Fletcher after Rooney was unable to contain. With Coloccini right on him, Fletcher turned and slotted home.

The second half opened with more brilliance from Nani; further showing why this will be his year, he burst through mid and into the box with amazing pace, only to be denied by a tandem of defenders.

Scholes, having just taken care of his yellow card obligations, thought he drew a penalty kick in the 53^rd, but he went down far too easily, following contact from Coloccini, for someone prone to dispensing harsh tackles. But the creativity sorely lacking from England’s midfield was on ample display. Another of his sublime flicks sent Berbatov ahead towards goal, the ball just going wide after being slotted under the keeper.

While he could be forgiven since he opened up the scoring, the missed opportunities again began to mount for Berbatov, with a ball sent across the goal mouth in the 68^th, a Giggs (on for Nani in the 72^nd) led feed towards goal in the 77^th, and an Evra led through pass that he couldn’t lift over the keeper all standing out, all glaring since the faithful knew the Wayne Rooney of old would have buried at least one, if not two of these chances.

But, as it was, Rooney’s crestfallen ineffectiveness- ironically, he slotted home in an off-sides situation prior to his exit- and Berba’s 2^nd half fruitless industry caused everyone to pin their hopes on Chicharito following his insertion in the 63^rd. On for Rooney, a blazing Chicharito was found by Nani for a rush that would have meant goal, but for being a hair afoul of the linesman.

The instincts and pace are definitely there for the Mexican international, however. It’s worth noting his run to the back post just as Giggs’ slotted home to the same corner upon being picked out by a perfectly placed right side cross by Scholes. Firing from the left top corner of the area, Giggs’ shot bounced off the pitch twice before finding the far side, while Chicharito was right there should the shot go awry.

Minnows Chelsea will hope to avoid relegation as they battle it out at the bottom with Wolves and Blackpool. What? I never said this was an accurate preview!

Chelsea made very few changes from last season’s trophy-winning squad. In come Yossi Benayoun from Liverpool and Ramires from Benfica. Out go Michael Ballack, Deco, Joe Cole and a host of other guys who were never going to set foot on the Stamford Bridge pitch during league play. Chelsea can afford to sit back and spend little because their competitors at the top are all in dire financial straits. Manchester United is owned by the Tenenbaums, Arsenal has an actual business plan, Liverpool is a mess, and Manchester City seems like they’re just buying enough players so they can trade in the UPCs for a secret decoder ring.

Drogba (L) and Essien discuss Inception, disagree on what the ending meant.

Chelsea also has a trump card: Michael Essien. When the Ghanian middie is healthy, there is nobody better at owning a midfield. Essien’s play allows the rest of the midfield (seriously, all of them) to push forward and pretend that they don’t have any defensive responsibilities. From this perspective, you could blame Essien for England’s World Cup performance. Nobody told Lampard about the other half of the pitch! What do you mean, “cover him”? Like with a towel, mate?

Gael Kakuta

Key to Chelsea’s title hopes will be Nicolas Anelka. If he doesn’t recover from his World Cup scandal, the French striker will be a major issue in the locker room. And Chelsea, for all its money, doesn’t have a suitable cover option for Le Sulk. Kalou is more famous for his misses than his makes and Daniel Sturridge has yet to prove he’s the real deal. Manager Carlo Ancelotti – aka the Aged, Disillusioned Pillsbury Doughboy – may turn to Gael Kakuta this year. Kakuta is famous for earning Chelsea a transfer ban over their nefarious dealings to acquire the French youngster. He has been impressive in the preseason and in the U19 World Cup.

Chelsea recently sold Ricardo Carvalho to Real Madrid. The center back has been injured for much of his Blues tenure, but he showed that he is still a top talent during the World Cup. Portugal allowed only one goal and ZonalMarking.com named Carvalho to its top eleven. His sale means that Ancelotti expects Alex to play a more prominent role this year. Although Ivanovic may push inside if Jose Bosingwa can regain his position on the right.

Chelsea will play Ancelotti’s patented 4-4-2, with 3 to 4 center midfielders, depending on Florent Malouda’s health. This formation allows Frank Lampard to push very high and get first crack at all the balls Drogba and Anelka deftly knock into his path. Chelsea can play such a compact style because they are so good at counterattacking. If you build a defense to fit their narrow system, you open up space that Drogba, Anelka and Malouda exploit to great effect. The truth is, Chelsea’s offensive unit is physically talented, but also very smart. I know, it sucks.

Buy this jersey: Andriy Shevchenko. Because you are a funny guy, funny guy.

West Brom is the middle child of the promoted teams. They don’t have a stay-up imperative like Newcastle, but they haven’t acted like their time in the premiership will be a hello-how’s-your-father like Blackpool. Manager Roberto Di Matteo is looking to add attacking options before the transfer window closes, with Liverpool beanpole David Ngog at the top of his list. Di Matteo can stand in line behind the entire Kop fanbase in hoping that the Reds sign another quality striker before the end of August.

West Brom will benefit from having experience in the back. Nicky Shorey, Steven Reid and Scott Carson have boatloads of EPL experience, and Pablo Ibanez will look to step into the center of the defense from the get-go, no easy assignment when Didier Drogba will be your first opponent. Carson is hoping that WBA’s return to the EPL will be the first step towards climbing back into the England goalkeeping picture. And who’s to argue with him? Not Robert Green, that’s for sure.

West Brom will come out in a 4-5-1 on Saturday or I will eat my hat (luckily, I make my hats out of egg whites and challah bread). Midfielders Graham Dorrans and Chris Brunt will have the extremely difficult task of clogging up the Chelsea midfield while starting the counterattack that will likely be WBA’s only chance to put up a crooked number. As the season progresses, Dorrans will have opportunities to press forward in a Gerrard-like role. But not Saturday.

Buy this jersey: Dorrans. He’s young, tough and talented. If West Brom goes down, he’ll be the player that will fund their rebuilding process in the Championship next season. Dorrans had 13 goals last year and will score in the EPL as well. His adjustment to the big stage will determine the potency of WBA’s offense.

Go over the "scoring" thing again...

Aston Villa is a team in turmoil. They constantly seemed to be on the brink of breaking into the EPL’s elite during Martin O’Neill’s tenure, but the leap never materialized. O’Neill’s favored 4-3-3 was a vicious animal to contain when his top eleven were healthy, but Emile Heskey is no John Carew, and, strange as it sounds, there is only one Gaby Agbonlahor. Agbonlahor started 35 games last year but netted only 13 times. He will have to improve on that total if Villa are to compete for a Europa League spot this year. There is no depth at the striker position beyond Emile Heskey, and I think that information speaks for itself.

Villa’s strength is wing play. Ashley Young and Stewart Downing are both rising stars who will be expected to improve on last season’s displays. James Milner can play wide or in the center, but it’s more likely that he’ll be playing in Manchester than anywhere in the Villa lineup. This is a huge loss for a team that relied heavily on Milner’s stellar play last season. Starlet Fabian Delph will be asked to step up early in the year. He started their first match last season before injuries, Milner’s emergence, and Downing’s return relegated him to the deep part of the bench.If Delph struggles, the burden of ball movement falls on the slight shoulders of Nigel Re0-Coker and Steve Sidwell, a pair of guys who define the phrase, “belongs in the Championship division”.

In the back, Aston Villa is a mixed bag. Carlos Cuellar will miss the first game of the year with injury. Richard Dunne is a poor man’s Jamie Carragher, a pub favorite who will still make three timely tackles for every bad PK he gives up. Expect Villa’s defense to make mistakes, but expect Brad Friedel to save them from embarrassment. He’s immortal, after all.

Buy this jersey: Friedel. Because when the apocalypse comes and you kneel before Brad Friedel’s feet at the gates of Friedeland, you’ll probably want to have his jersey on.

West Ham, guided by former Chelsea and Portsmouth man Avram Grant, will be an interesting team to watch this season, but that doesn’t make them an interesting team to write about. I recently heard them described as, “Scott Parker and those guys”. Totally accurate. Carlton Cole is still a big galoof who will have dominant games and games where he passes through-balls to the other team’s strikers (what? Defoe was open!) Robert Green will play very well in goal but still look like an overgrown leprechaun. Matthew Upson will remain a talented center back who somehow never takes the next step to stardom. Mark Noble will continue to become the next Scott Parker. Kieron Dyer will fund the retirement of another physical therapist.

West Ham has traditionally had great youth development. Junior Stanislas, Zavon Hines and Freddie Sears are the latest players looking to push into the top squad. Stanislas and Sears in particular will look to make an impression, as Avram Grant will be very willing to put young players in tough positions.

Buy this jersey: Scott Parker, and not just because it’s the only one you’ll find. Parker is what Tottenham’s Jermaine Jenas and Aston Villa’s Steve Sidwell should be: A player who understands that his team will rise and fall with his energy level. He makes mistakes, he’s less talented than many of his opponents, but he works and works. Plus, he could’ve been a hair double for Michael J. Fox in Back To The Future.

Tottenham v. Manchester City – 7:45am ESPN2

Tottenham was remarkably consistent last term and won at least one match every month. They are a team that can score goals at will when they are clicking, which generally means when Jermain Defoe is playing well. Defoe will partner up top with the usual suspects: Peter Crouch, Eidur Gudjohnsen and Roman Pavlyuchenko. There has been talk of Crouch leaving before the end of August, but that will probably take a bid in excess of 10 million pounds because Hotspur manager ‘Arry Redknapp won’t trust Pavlyuchenko as a top striker, no matter how many good shifts the Russian puts in.

Tottenham has always lacked a true playmaker. Their defense isn’t good enough to withstand heavy pressure and they rely on streaky central midfielders who are too prone to giving away possession. If Tottenham makes a run at the title this season, either Tom Huddlestone or Jermaine Jenas will be the driving force.

Two seasons ago, Hotspurs thought they had their playmaker in Luka Modric. The Croatian has all the tools to become the ball-moving middie Tottenham needs if they want to build on last year’s success. Modric spent most of last season playing in a wide left position. His ability to draw multiple defenders allowed Tottenham to quickly switch fields and give Aaron Lennon space to operate on the right. After Wilson Palacios’ suspension late in 09-10, Modric moved back to the middle and was instrumental in pushing Tottenham to big wins over Chelsea, Arsenal and Manchester City. If he continues to flourish in the center, it allows Redknapp to deploy the silky smooth Niko Kranjcar on the left and gives Spurs a Croatian-crapton of weapons going forward.

Buy this jersey: I want to say Pavlyuchenko so bad, but I know Eli will call me up and phone-punch me if I do. So buy Palacios. His hard work in the midfield will be crucial if Tottenham’s high-powered offense is going to push forward and sustain pressure on opposing defenses.

Manchester City is your favorite team if you love playing FIFA10 but don’t watch or play much soccer. The modus operandi of the owners is to buy all the talent you can find and splatter it across the field as if it was a Jackson Pollock canvas. New summer signings David Silva, Yaya Toure, Jerome Boateng and Alex Kolarov (and possibly James Milner and Mario Balotelli) join Roberto Mancini‘s Wet Dream squad for the upcoming year and the expectation in a league crown.

It’s impossible to predict but undeniably exciting to find out what lineup Mancini will use each week. It’s like he’s roasting marshmallows over a giant fire: He could get s’mores, but then again it could very easily go up in flames. Manchester City’s squad list suggests they’ll play a 4-4-2, instead of the mutated 4-3-3 Mancini favored last year with Bellamy kicking chalk on the wing.

Emmanuel Adebayour and Carlos Tevez are probably locks to start this weekend. On the wings, Mancini has a gross amount of talent, but it’s likely that Silva and young star Adam Johnson will get the call. Johnson was particularly impressive after arriving in January, and Fabio Capello will should be watching the young Englishman with interest. Gareth Barry will hope to hold onto his role in central midfield and improve on a fairly lackluster first season in powder blue. He’ll partner with either Nigel De Jong (black belt) or Vincent Kompany, who can probably be purchased at IKEA. If any of the central middies struggle, Yaya will be ready to step in and play strong defense while playing errant passes to increasingly frustrated strikers.

There is plenty of competition in the back. Serbian new boy Kolarov will probably start above Wayne Bridge since Wayne Bridge is not very good. Micah Richards will try to hold onto his right back position by playing extremely well and maddeningly poor in back to back games. If Richards struggles, expect Lescott to move to the right so Boateng can slot in next to Kolo Toure in the back. At this point, expect me to start begging Roy Hodgson to sign Richards so, god-willing, Fabio Aurelio is no longer in the Reds starting lineup (come on, god. Have a heart.)

Any time teams that are expected to finish close to each other in the table play, it’s a big game. This one will have increased meaning for City, who truly felt they deserved to make Champions League last season on to finish below a streaking Spurs squad. Every point Manchester City drops will be viewed as an epic failure by their fans, owners, and FIFA players everywhere.

Buy this jersey: Balotelli. Just do it. He’s super duper talented. Player of the year talented, even. But he’s also kinda insane. He stomps around the pitch like an eight year old that just had his allowance taken away, then he scores incredible goals, then doesn’t smile, then takes dives like he grew up watching Drogba highlights (lowlights).