The Sports Academic

La Soule: Medieval Ancestor to Goal Contact Sports or l’exception française?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 18:27:00 +0000

As I was boning-up on my rugby vocab in English (as I normally only follow the French Top-14 in the francophone daily L’équipe) in preparation for the 2011 IRB Rugby World Cup, I came across a very interesting discovery. I’ve found that a useful way to learn the French terms for specialized English words that wouldn’t normally be found in a dictionary (i.e. mythology, baseball terminology, architectural features, etc.) is to go to the English Wikipedia page and then click on “Français” on the sidebar. Doing the inverse for “Rugby à XV” on Wikipédia to “Rugby Union” on Wikipedia, I couldn’t help but notice that between England and France – the two nations that compete for European, even Northern Hemisphere dominance in international rugby – have competing narratives as to the origins of the sport.

Under “History,” the English-language article begins definitively with the date of 1823: “The origin of rugby football is reputed to be an incident during a game of English school football at Rugby School in 1823 when William Webb-Ellis is said to have picked up the ball and run with it.” (See rest of article here ). The French history does mention the infamous 1823 event (which is strikingly similar to the legend of the invention of the forward pass in American football); however, there is a significant discrepancy between the two accounts. The French trace the origins of rugby to a game played in the hexagon, La soule, before arriving at last to Webb-Ellis’ famed pick-up:

“Certaines études affirment que l'ancêtre du rugby est la soule ou sioule, sport très pratiqué en France dès le Moyen Âge. La soule a en effet des caractéristiques communes avec le rugby, comme le knappan au pays de Galles, le hurling en Cornouailles et en Irlande, le calcio en Italie, qui sont issues à la même époque. Mais ces jeux se sont vite éteints à la fin du XVIII^e siècle, au contraire du folk football qui a trouvé refuge dans les collèges anglais. La variante originale a été inventée sur le terrain du principal collège de la ville de Rugby (Angleterre). La légende veut qu'au cours d'une partie de football à la mi-1823, William Webb Ellis […].” (Read the rest here).

[Translation: Some studies affirm that the ancestor to rugby is Soule, a commonly-played sport in France from the Middle Ages forward. Soule does indeed share many common traits with rugby (as with other European sports of the same period). However, these games quickly disappear at the end of the 18^th century, unlike folk football, which found refuge in English boarding schools. The original version was invented on the soccer pitch of the school grounds of Rugby town (England). The legend holds that during a soccer match in mid 1823, William Webb-Ellis (…).]

What is this Soule that claims ancestry to rugby? Wikipedia has an article (whose English and French version largely agree) on the subject: La Soule. Basically, Soule epitomizes full-contact, as a no-holds-barred contest that pits entire villages or parishes against the next where competitors attempt to transport a rag-ball across the opponent's terrain and touch it to the base of an object representing its goal. Specific rules were often agreed upon sur-le-champ right before kick-off. The match would conclude when a team reaches a predetermined goal count or when no viable participants are available on one side or the other. Indeed, I think we can certainly see an ancestor to mucks, mauls and scrums in this game! However, the question remains: Is Soule, a game they trace to William the Conqueror and the Battle of Hastings(!), really an ancestor to rugby or is the French claim but another instance of l’exception française?

Replay in Baseball: A Purist’s Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 19:27:00 +0000

I am an unrepentant baseball purist. Baseball, unlike any other American sport, lends itself to conservatism. Nearly 150 years ago, Walt Whitman noticed what made baseball so perfect from its creation when he called the game “the great Democratic sport”. In American football, ice hockey and basketball (as in politics and society), I am entirely in favor of progress. Ratifying rules and updating equipment to protect players; changing the dimensions of the playing surface and instituting replay rules to increase scoring; creating a three-point line, giving an extra step and allowing acrobatic slam dunks to improve the fan’s experience—all of these were for the betterment of each sport. However, baseball is different (and I have discussed baseball’s uniqueness elsewhere). Between the wooden bat and the leather mitt are the same 60 feet, 6 inches that lead me to believe that Babe Ruth would still be a slugger, Ted Williams a .400 hitter and Sandy Koufax untouchable if they played today. And, baseball has always been a game of scandals; so, we’ll tread through the steroids era as we did with the Black Sox and Pete Rose…

HOWEVER…, given last night’s call, which is being labeled as “the worst umpire call ever,” where home plate ump Jerry Meals called Atlanta’s Julio Lugo safe despite being clearly tagged by Pittsburgh catcher Michael McHenry a good six feet from a blocked plate, thus ending a 19-inning contest between two legitimate playoff contenders, I am seriously reconsidering my position on replay. Pair this with Jim Joyce robbing Armando Galarraga of a perfect game and no-hitter last June and I think there may be room for some replay (limited to basic objective calls: fair/foul, out/safe, trap/catch, homerun/not—and as long as ball/strike, balk, tag-up synchrony, sign-stealing, ball-scuffing, etc. didn’t creep in). Sure, I am a huge fan of the spontaneity of sport and feel that human error still has a role to play in officiating; still, with no horse in the race with Atlanta or Pittsburgh (or Detroit/Cleveland either, for that matter), I see these two calls as abominations to the sport. See for yourself, here.

Armstrong's Latest Doping "Scandal"

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 17:51:00 +0000

A number of people have asked my opinion on the latest revelations leveled at Armstrong by former teammate Tyler Hamilton.

My opinion is that this is nothing new. Armstrong was lucky never to get caught doing what nearly all (if not all) the top cyclists were doing in the 1990s and 2000s. In baseball, there was a dead-ball era, a "greenie" (sort of amphetamine) era, a steroid era, etc. In cycling there was a kola era, a "dynamite" and amphetamine era, an EPO and blood doping era, etc. Armstrong rode during the latter.

This cartoon by Mike Luckovich made the rounds via e-mail:

(original source: http://blogs.ajc.com/mike-luckovich/2011/05/24/525-cartoon-mike-luckovich-on-lance-armstrong/)

It is funny. But if you pull the cartoon lens back, you'll see that all Lance's challengers were riding the same bike.

I prefer the Onion's take on it. Their article (online here) is titled, "Lance Armstrong: I Never Failed One Of Those Shitty, Easy-To-Fool Doping Tests."

Montaigne, Real Salt Lake, and This Fan's Life

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 13:59:00 +0000

In the introduction to his multi-volume collection of essays, Michel de Montaigne humbly wrote that he was the subject of his own book.

In a similar way, I am the subject of this blog post. And to quote Montaigne, you probably shouldn't waste your time reading about such a "frivolous and vain subject." But whether you continue reading or not, I will write this little confession anyway; I need to confront my demons so that I can move past the pain.

As a young boy, I was a rabid football fall. I am now embarrassed to say that I loved the Cowboys and I loved BYU's football team. Even though there were some painful losses (I remember hurting for weeks after Dallas lost to Philadelphia in the NFC championship game in 1981), Dallas won the Superbowl in '78 and BYU won the national championship in 1984. I was under the youthful illusion that championships would be a regular thing. The oft-repeated "Wait 'til next year" filled me with hope instead of dread.

Then I began cheering for the Mariners.

After decades of losing, they finally made the playoffs. The greatest day in my life as a fan was when the Mariners beat the Yankees in extra innings of the final game of a playoff series in 1995. It helped that my favorite player, Edgar Martinez, had the game winning double. But of course the Mariners went on to lose in the next round. They would lose the ALCS again in 2000 and yet again in 2001, despite winning a record 116 games that year during the regular season. In my heady graduate-school-years I had given up on football and was not very interested in watching basketball, so I had nothing to fall back but my own sorrow.

So amid the pain, I started researching and writing about sports. I think I began writing on sports as a way to distance myself from the pain of watching my teams lose (again), as a mechanism to allow me to cope with the hopelessness the Mariners continue to inspire. I could follow the games from the detachment of the ivory tower. I could look at the suffering fans as objects of study, as poor schmucks whose love for their team was deterministically dictated by their social class and cultural habitus. I was insulated from suffering by Bourdieu and Elias; protected by Huizinga and Corbin.

But then I unwittingly let myself love again.

In October 2008 I was asked to give a presentation on sports as part of our university's outreach program. To entice public school teachers to attend lectures by university professors, the organizers offered complimentary tickets to the first soccer game at the freshly minted Rio Tinto Stadium in Sandy, Utah. They had several extra tickets, so I went and watched a 1-1 draw against New York. Maybe it was the red card against New York (and it is fun to hate teams from New York), maybe the ambiance, maybe the fact that my children and wife enjoyed the games, maybe the way soccer in America made me feel subversive... but I was hooked and attended the team's playoff games that fall. I went to several games in 2009, including their improbable 1-0 win over Columbus in the playoffs and then went to the party to celebrate their surprising MLS Cup win. In 2010 I went to most of their home games. And this year I haven't missed a game.

I am now unable to detach myself from this team and maintain any critical distance. I have a cap signed by midfielder Will Johnson. I bought a jacket and a flag. I somehow let myself become a mindless fan. And I enjoyed every second of it until Wednesday night.

Against my expectations (and those of the 20,000 others present at the game) Real Salt Lake lost the Concacaf Champions League final to Monterrey, Mexico at home 0-1. My heart was ripped out. I feel gutted. My sleep is haunted by nightmares of the loss.

Why did I let myself be tricked into re-entering the world of fandom? Why did I abandon my comfortable perch in the detachment of academia? In short, Wo is me.

But even now, in the haze of melancholy brought on by the team's loss at the brink of a championship, I still like this team. Their payroll is six times less than the team from Mexico that beat them. They are composed of players rejected by other teams and other leagues. They play with creativity and a bit of anger. Their players have interesting life stories. And.... I'm sounding like a fan again...

I am at the moment of decision. Do I return to the indifference of scholarship, or embrace a team that will inevitably break my heart? I am experienced enough to know that a team from Salt Lake cannot continue making it to championship games, old enough to know that in sports hope is usually dashed. Am I willing to take the emotional beating Real Salt Lake will give me?

RSL plays Portland tonight at 8:30. Where is my flag?

A letter to Commissioner Selig

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 05:55:00 +0000

Allow me to share a letter I just mailed to MLB Commissioner Bud Selig, as it addresses my feelings on the entire McCourt/Dodgers debacle:

27 April 2011

Office of the Commissioner of Baseball
Allan H. Selig, Commissioner
245 Park Ave., 31st Floor
New York, New York 10167

Dear Commissioner Selig:

With great admiration for the grace and dignity with which you have ushered our beloved American game through the Steroid Era and as an unwavering fan of Major League Baseball, I write to commend what—for me personally and for hundreds of thousands of the Los Angeles Dodgers faithful—will stand as the defining moment of your tenure at the helm of this great organization. Your seizure of financial control of our storied franchise from the detrimentally failed and flawed stewardship of Frank McCourt was nothing short of a veritable liberation for those of us who have endured the demonstration of his proprietary incompetence paired with the media fiasco that was the McCourt divorce. I support and salute you in your efforts to enable the Dodgers franchise to return to the position of prestige it has occupied for so many decades.

In so doing, sir, I also wish to admonish you to exercise the fullest measure of power vested in the office of the commissioner to prevent either Frank or Jamie McCourt from ever reassuming any form of ownership of our franchise. We are not an investment, a property, an asset—the Los Angeles Dodgers organization represents much more than mere numbers. Rather, we are a loyal collectivity of dedicated fans for whom the Dodgers are a cultural identifier and a communal symbol of pride and hope. For us, the Dodgers transcend the McCourt’s bottom line and Rupert Murdoch’s media empire. To see us reduced to such by a wolf who came to us in sheep’s clothing, selling lies to buy our affection as he aimed to assume the paternal place of the O’Malleys, has been as insulting as it has disheartening. Please, Mr. Commissioner, force the McCourts out of baseball. Force them to sell the club, our club. Supplement any ascertainable forestallment on “their investment” and see them out. Cut short this tragedy and banish the McCourts.

Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Fernando Valenzuela, Orel Hershiser, Tommy Lasorda, Vin Scully, Walter O’Malley: Are the Los Angeles Dodgers really nothing more than the investment of a carpet-bagging real estate developer? For myself—who fell in love with the Dodgers and baseball as an eight-year-old watching Steve Sax and Gibby win the 1988 World Series—and for countless others who found elation in the Westward Expansion, Sandy’s Shabbat, The Penguin’s earth-shaker, Fernandomania, Game Over Gagné, even Mannywood, the Dodgers represent the true American Dream. Let McCourt define America in dollars and cents to his own demise. America is a diverse collectivity of individuals drawn together by similar objectives and aspirations. Baseball is America’s pastime. The Dodgers are one of its few truly American teams.

Sincerest thanks,
Robert J. Hudson, PhD

*Many thanks to the "Frank McCourt: Sell the Dodgers! Leave LA!" facebook group page from which I borrowed the image above.

Soccer, Socialization and Human Evolution

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 11:32:00 +0000

I have a friend who insists soccer is an inferior sport because it does not take advantage of that great marker of human evolution: opposable thumbs. As a result my friend reasons that soccer is too primitive and not civilized enough for him to appreciate.

But the fact that soccer prohibits use of the hands for most players may, in fact, make it the most civilized of all sports.

Norbert Elias argues that "'sportization' . . . had the character of a civilizing spurt comparable in its overall direction to the ‘courtization’ of the warriors where the tightening rules of etiquette played a significant part" (151).

He offers hunting as an example. "Earlier forms of hunting thus imposed on their followers few restraints. People enjoyed the pleasures of hunting and killing animals in whatever way they could and ate as many of them as they liked" (161). But as hunting developed, as it became more civilized (if killing an animal can be civilized), more and more restraints were placed on hunters and on how they conducted the hunt and the kill. Traps were not considered gentlemanly. A sword or dagger was used to kill a buck instead of a bow and arrow or a rifle.

The same was true of in music. Concert goers used to cheer wildly at musical passages they liked even as the band played on. Then they restrained themselves, clapping only between movements. Now civilized concert goers know to applaud only at the end of an entire piece. (As an aside, this is one reason I prefer sports to concerts: I can cheer when the feeling takes hold.) In short, concert goers, like soccer players, can no longer use their hands except after the final note/whistle sounds.

By not using their hands, soccer players are showing they are civilized enough to compete, to do artful things with a ball, without the great evolutionary asset of opposable thumbs. Their fans are, admittedly, less civilized, but the sport itself is a model of restraint and civilization. In fact, soccer was introduced to the lower classes of the British Empire in order to civilize them... and teach them restraint.

All sports impose rules to force participants to exercise control over their bodies in often unnatural, but artistic ways. Imagine basketball without the dribble, tennis without the net, etc. Soccer is just a little more advanced in this, a little more evolved perhaps, than some other sports.

*Norbert Elias and Eric Dunning, Quest for Excitement.

Stu·pid·i·ty [stoo-pid-i-tee] --noun; see The IOC and Governor of Pennsylvania

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 20:30:00 +0000

A few interesting stories from recent weeks...

First, Scott sends me this story about the 2012 Olympics. As a French professor I'm OK with the first point, that French be the official language of the games. But the list of demands made by the IOC on the organizing committee goes from cumbersome to scandalous: "40,000 hotel rooms for IOC members." And "at least 105 members of the IOC have also demanded they receive 'four or five star' accommodation at the expense of the London Olympic fund." I hosted a conference in Salt Lake for my professional organization in 2009. We gave members of the national organization's governing committee a box of chocolates. Given the financial problems of London's organizing committee, I think they should follow our lead.

Carlos sends me the story of Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell who criticized the Philadelphia Eagles for postponing their game due to snow, extending his criticism to all America, calling it a "nation of wussies." He apparently continued by saying that the Chinese would have held the game anyway, and done calculus on their way to the game. Right. Those Chinese love calculus, Chinese food, baby boys, and snow. Glad our elected officials can avoid stereotypes. And I only wish national strength could really be determined based on our stupidity (like the stupidity of going to a football game in a blizzard), instead of on ridiculous indicators like education, health care, and GDP.

“King Felix” and the AL Cy Young: The Victory of Sabermetrics

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 16:01:00 +0000

More than any other sport, baseball has always been a game of statistics. For over a century, as fans, we are impressed with the homerun kings and strikeout specialists; yet, we reserve a certain reverence for the high BA and the low ERA (and my favorite stat, the RBI). However, over the past decade and a half, the more complex formulas of Sabermetrics (from SABR, the Society for American Baseball Research) have colored our perception of statistical categories, as WHIP, OPS, and VORP have progressively crept into common baseball parlance. What was originally reserved for “nerdy baseball lab rats,” with the advent of on-line fantasy baseball leagues (like the one Corry and I played in last summer, finishing first and second, respectively) and the recent hires at ESPN/The Sporting News (and various other weekly baseball publications) of resident sabermetricians, has evolved into the modern way of analyzing the old ballgame.

While shocking to many so-called “baseball purists,” for whom the Cy Young Award (MLB’s annual top prize for the best pitcher in each league) represents not only big numbers in traditional categories (Ks, ERA, Wins) but also success in big game situations (i.e., usually a pennant race), Félix Hernández winning the 2010 AL Cy Young yesterday truly marks the “Victory of Sabermetrics” and assures its mainstream presence in baseball sportswriting. Generally speaking, since 1967 (when the award was first given to both leagues), a Cy Young winning starting pitcher needed to reach a plateau of at least 18-20 wins for a competitive team to even be in the running. Hernández, who pitched this season for the lowly Seattle Mariners (who finished 61-101 this season, dead last in the AL West and 29 games back of eventual AL champion Texas), barely won half of his decisions with a mere 13-12 record. However, his ERA and Ks were unreal this season: His K total was second best in the AL with 232 (one of five pitchers in the hitter-friendly AL to eclipse 200 total Ks) and his ERA was an MLB-best 2.27. Still, while the Mariners did not play a meaningful game after April, other AL pitchers with comparable stats (Cliff Lee, David Price, Clay Bucholz, CC Sabathia) were on competitive teams.

So, how does one justify awarding the top prize to a 13-12 pitcher on a 61-101 team? Sabermetrics. In all SABR-valued categories, the Venezuelan Hernández was in the top 5 or 6—and usually in the top 1 or 2 for each, including being #1 for TLoss (tough losses, a quality start that results in a loss due to poor fielding or batting from position players) at a whopping 8 (twice his nearest competitor) and not recording a single cheap win (the opposite situation). With wins in those situations, his total is 21; yet, before Sabermetrics, we would probably not even realize this. Also, Hernández was the only pitcher in all of baseball to face over 1,000 batters this season and, while perhaps meaningless to the Mariners’ fate, he was a formidable foe to those teams vying for the pennant—almost no-hitting the Texas Rangers on September 17^th. All in all, nonetheless, (although a case could be made for last year’s champ Zack Greinke of the dreadful Kansas City Royals, who was also head-and-shoulders above the competition in traditional categories) I hold that King Félix stands alone in baseball history as the man who broke the purist hardball machine and brought Sabermetrics to the fore in 21^st-century baseball.

Sports Film Review: Looking for Eric (2009)

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 05:43:00 +0000

Dir.: Ken Loach. Feat.: Steve Evets & Eric Cantona. 116 min.

“You can leave your wife; you can change your wife. You can change your politics. You can change your religion. But, never, never can you change your favorite football team!” (ManU fan)

Driving the wrong way into a turnabout, Eric Bishop (Steve Evets) speeds headlong into the crash that metaphorically represents his entire existence. A struggling everyman postal worker based in Manchester, Eric and his reeling life are basically summed up in his mate’s quote above: he left one wife and lost another; politics and religion are beyond the scope of his menial sort, nor has he room for them, for football—quite specifically Manchester United football—is the only creed to which he and his drinking partners adhere. Only Rooney and Scholes, a few pints with the lads, and memories of Eric “the King” Cantona can momentarily ease the sting of daily reality for this Red Devils fanatic. However, when his two live-in stepsons turn to delinquency, even organized crime, and he confronts memories of the wife and daughter he abandoned years ago, will football be enough?

In this midst of this painful, gritty social drama (that sometimes bears resonances with the work of the Dardenne brothers), an official Cannes selection, director Ken Loach offers a fantastic element of almost magical realism when Eric Cantona (played by himself) enters the scene as a sort of apparition/philosopher to help the other Eric make sense of his life and begin to shore up the shards of a shattered domestic past, make amends and, ultimately, foster a caring relationship between himself and his stepsons.

Worth the price of the DVD alone, digitally remastered highlights from Cantona’s stellar career with ManU are interspersed throughout the film with a crispness of image and focus heretofore unseen. What’s more, the enigmatic Cantona, whose “philosophy” is the stuff of football legend, becomes a “flawed genius” guru to the deeply-ashamed, even suicidal Eric with memorable lines such as “He that forecasts all perils will never sail the seas,” “He that is afraid to shake the dice will never throw a six” and “If you do not enter the lion’s den, you cannot get his cubs.” To this exchange, Eric the postman retorts in angrily telling Cantona where to shove his proverbs and philosophy, admitting that he’s “barely getting over the […] seagulls!” (In a nod to the viewer, the famous 1995 post-“Kung Fu King” hooligan kick press conference, with the unforgettable seagull quote, is included on the disk!) Still, as barriers break down and the men smoke pot, drink wine, and train together outdoors, Cantona explains his sweetest moment on the pitch being not a goal but rather a pass, and Eric discovers the importance of always trusting one’s teammates.

Even beyond reliving Cantona’s highlights, video footage plays a key role throughout the film, especially as Eric is humiliated by his stepson’s abusive gangster “friend” on YouTube. In the interest of avoiding all spoilers, let it be said that video plays a vital part in the entirely unexpected but delightfully “hooliganistic” conclusion to Eric’s legal/family problems. Eventually learning to trust his mates, Eric eventually says “Non!”, flips his collar to the world and stands up for himself.

Beyond the central plot of a man overcoming crisis and regaining control in his life, this remains a film about football. Eric’s hooligan pals, English football references, Cantona’s career, the hated Glazer family, corporate sponsorship, gentrification of the EPL, working class clubs, etc.—even the question of the French King Cantona in England—are all undercurrents in this rich sports film. In one particular scene, a small group of ManU dissenters who now claims to support a minor club in Manchester, FC United, express their discontent for the EPL brass in saying: “We may be small but there’s no fat […] chairman who can sell us out for 30 pieces of silver.” So, if you seek a sports film that simultaneously celebrates football and the resilience of the human spirit—and can overlook the heavy-handed scenes of domestic turmoil, frequent drug use and the over 200 appearances of the F-word(!)—or if your life is simply lacking the philosophy of a "flawed genius" guru, perhaps you, too, should consider Looking for Eric.

Is This Cheating?

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Wed, 10 Nov 2010 16:50:00 +0000

Scott sends me the following video of a trick play in a middle school championship football game:

Apparently the quarterback made the other team think they needed to add five more yards to a penalty that had just been assessed against the defense. He took the ball, walked through the line, then took off. (For a write up and my source click here).

Trick play or cheating?

Curveballs Don't Curve... Apparently

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 00:34:00 +0000

Just came across this interesting article about research done by Arthur Shapiro of American University and Zhong-Lin Lu of the University of Southern California on visual perception and curveballs. Turns out they don't really "break." It's all a visual illusion. We've been cheated all these years by our eyes...

NFL Coaches Asked to Call Timeout to Allow More Commercials

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 13:56:00 +0000

I have long been annoyed by the number of unnecessary stoppages during football games. Seeing the "TV Timeout" official constantly on the field holding up play made me stop going to watch them in person. But the latest in the commercial-saga that is college football and the NFL takes it all even one step further. Now, in addition to the regularly scheduled interruptions, coaches are being asked to change strategy in order to make room for more commercials.

Jeff Fisher, coach of the NFL's Tennessee Titans, was apparently asked to call timeouts late in the game so ESPN could squeeze in more commercials. Here is what he told reporters (as reported here [thanks to Scott for the link]).

"Plus, you know, my understanding was that we needed some network timeouts, so I think that's why Jack used his timeouts ... because they came over and asked me to do it, and I said, 'Well, I was hoping to get a first down and kneel on it. ' "
Fisher also said "it's the first time" he has heard of coaches being asked to call timeouts for broadcast considerations, but that comment was not part of the video highlights of the news conference that the NFL made available Tuesday.

I know, I know... the teams and the league and the networks need to make money. But in a game already set up to maximize commercial time, asking coaches to add even more breaks strikes me as beyond the pale.

Thankfully I've got TiVo....

On Spontaneity

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 15:11:00 +0000

William Astore recently published this article in the Huffington Post where he argues that fans' experiences have become too canned, manipulated by owners/administrators who prompt us when to chant, who control what we see on jumbotrons, who bombard us with commercials for the entire length of the game or match.

While the level of this varies from sport to sport (I'm looking at you football), he is sadly correct. It sometimes feels like being in Disneyland®: many fans want to see the real thing but are instead shown a cheap plastic replica.

And here is the problem. What makes sport sport, what separates sports from other forms of entertainment like the movies, theater, novels, etc. is that sports are inherently unpredictable. As a fan I go in hope of seeing something brilliant, something unexpected, something improvised, something spontaneous every time. And I want to react to that unexpected brilliance spontaneously. I want to be moved by improvisation without being prodded with lights, signs, music, and "applause" signs. By controlling their experience in minute detail from the parking lot to the final whistle, owners are depriving fans of the very experience they pay to enjoy.

(Parenthetically, I think jazz music can produce the same kind of awe as an amazing pass, shot, or throw, precisely because, like a good athletic contest, it is improvised.)

Replay in Baseball

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 19:25:00 +0000

Daryl sends me a link to an article by Jason Stark in ESPN.com about instituting replay in baseball. The article includes an argument against the "human element" anti-replay line of thinking. Since we have discussed it before, especially in connection to soccer, I wanted to post it here for your comments. If you have any...

P.S. I still think even balls and strikes should be called electronically...

Sports, Risk, and Parental Rights

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 19:47:00 +0000

Here's a post from an occasional contributor, Sven Wilson, a Political Science professor who writes here about letting children play dangerous sports, like football, motocross, etc.

http://pileusblog.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/parental-rights-and-risk-management/

After going to a high school football game Friday night and seeing the surgeon on the sidelines, a dozen players on the bench with crutches, and an ambulance conspicuously parked right next to the field, I was thinking along these lines, too.

Big Time NCAA Sports Means A Smaller Library

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 15:52:00 +0000

The report is in. ESPN.com reports that only 14 of the 120 athletic departments with football programs tied into the bowl system made money in 2009.

Read the report here.

Since most people argue that big time college sports is good for higher ed since it makes more money, this report should make for some interesting conversations. It should, but it won't....

With so many universities facing budget cutbacks, layoffs, or hiring freezes, and with the large majority of athletic departments running on average a $10 million deficit... well....

Town Ain’t Big Enough for Two: Italian Serie A and Two-Squad Cities

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 06:49:00 +0000

On the eve of the commencement of another fine Italian—Champions League-defending—Serie A campaign and following an interesting conversation today with my Italianist colleagues Ilona Klein and Rod Boynton, I want to dedicate this post to exploring a rare phenomenon, unique to Italian soccer: politically-divided, two-horse soccer towns. (Knowing how much Corry loathes il calcio, I’ll make a concerted effort to share one of the many reasons I love the thoroughly corrupt, hands-in-the-air, ref-baiting, pleading, begging, flopping beauty of Serie A football!)

Indeed, the EPL does have a handful of inner-city rivalries: Man U/Man City, Liverpool/Everton, a cluster of clubs in the midlands, and anywhere from 4-8 teams in a given season hailing from London. Still, politically speaking, none of these rivalries really cross the football divide. The Scottish Premier League, on the converse, has a Glasgow duo in “The Old Firm”: Catholic Celtic FC and the Protestant Rangers FC, whose mutual hatred transcends football and extends to centuries of religious conflict. The German Bundesliga has one fine example of this phenomenon in right-wing Hamburger SV and the left-leaning, anti-fascist FC St. Pauli. Allegiances in the French Ligue 1 are quite often divided between the pro-immigration fans of Olympique de Marseille and the generally racially intolerant and right-wing Paris Saint Germain—despite the 800 km that separate the two major cities of the Hexagon. The closest thing France has what I see in Italy, nonetheless, is the rivalry between my Olympique Lyonnais and Les Verts of AS Saint Etienne. This battle of two neighboring southeastern cities, who compete yearly in the Derby du Rhône, is traditionally seen as a fight between working-class ASSE mountain men and the industrial magnates of cosmopolitan OL. A similar dynamic exists within the limits of multiple Italian cities, with divisions quite often clearly drawn between the political right and left.

Four exemplary Italian metropoles, representing 8 squads, stand out to illustrate this two-team dynamic: Turin, Milan, Rome, and Genoa. The Piedmont “Detroit of Italy” boasts the peninsula’s most decorated European club, deep-pocketed powerhouse Juventus (owned by the Agnelli family of Fiat fame) and the working class Bulls of FC Torino (who have sadly been relegated to Serie B for the past few seasons). In essence, Turin’s momentarily discontinued yearly battle pits international stars purchased with auto industry Lire/Euros against the regional club supported by local men working the assembly line, building the cars, in the Fiat factory. Further south, the fashion center of Milan offers two very different teams, both of whom historically vie for vastly different versions of the Italian left and both of whom (with Juve) represent the perennial superclubs in Serie A: AC Milan is the baby of Christian Democrat populist media giant Silvio Berlusconi and, as such and in spite of its fashionable snobbery, is the working class club; whereas Internationale, despite its communist-sounding name and original politics of cultural open-mindedness, is now the ultra right-wing, maybe even post-Fascist, squad of Italy.* Inter Milan does not, however, hold a monopoly on right-wing racism; Rome’s SS Lazio (and Florence’s ACF Fiorentina) also share the distinction as Italy’s most intolerant squads. The highly Anglophilic, smug, and Vatican-minded supporters of Lazio have a very different crosstown rival for the yearly Derby della Capitale, in AS Roma, who, on the other hand, is notably Roman and adopt a comportment more germane to that of the leisurely urban denizen. Finally, the Ligurian port city of Genoa claims both Italy’s oldest club Genoa CFC as well as UC Sampdoria. These two contestants for the Derby della Lanterna are both, oddly, traditionally left-leaning in this long-wealthy and cosmopolitan city of bankers. Still, Genoa, with its mascot of the Griffin, appeals to the enlightened liberal intellectual elite of the city whereas rival Sampdoria, with an old sailor as its emblem, is the team of mariners and fisherman. In Genoa, allegiances are divided between the bleeding-heart bourgeoisie who aim to assuage the plight of the working man and the actual proletariat who live it.

As distinct to Italian soccer as simulating fouls and cattenaccio defense, the tradition of two-horse towns and the exciting “derbies” they engender represent much of the joy of trademark Italian calcio. Just as in Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns, Baxters and Rojos cannot coexist--but we're all entertained when they duel. All the same, even when one does not have a team to support, politics can always help facilitate a decision. Viva Italia! Viva il calcio! Viva il Vecchio Balordo! Viva i Rossoblu! FORZA GENOA!!!

*For more on Milanese football, see Frank Foer's fine chapter "How Soccer Explains the New Oligarchs" (Ch. 7; pp. 176-92).

Sauna Death Match

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 14:44:00 +0000

Saturday night, during the finals of they world Sauna championships held in Finland, one competitor died and the other was hospitalized.

The "sport" (?) pits competitors against each other in saunas heated to 110 degrees Celsius (230 Farenheit). The person who can stay in the longest wins. Or in this case dies.

Organizers are defending a competition that requires a certain amount of cultural knowledge to appreciate, apparently. "I know that it is very difficult for people outside of Finland who are not familiar with sauna culture to understand," Ossi Arvela told reporters. "It is not uncommon to have 110 degree temperatures in a sauna. Many competitors sit in even higher temperatures."

Maybe he's right.

I understand pushing the body to its limits. I appreciate when an athlete digs deep to reach new levels of performance. But when "training" amounts to "sitting" and getting cooked, literally, things have probably gone too far.

The sauna likely does produce some health benefits. So does taking antibiotics. And there are good reasons we don't hold a competition to see who could ingest the most amoxicillin.

News Source: http://www.lemonde.fr/sport/article/2010/08/08/un-mort-en-finale-du-championnat-du-monde-de-sauna_1396905_3242.html

EPL Dilemma: Who should I support?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 18:42:00 +0000

Forgive the narcissism of this post, but given the knowledgeable, pro-soccer composition of the SA readership, I thought I’d seek your assistance in helping me decide something important: Who should I support in the English Premier League?

For most leagues, my football allegiances are rather clear-cut and firm: LA Galaxy (MLS), Olympique Lyonnais (Ligue 1), Barça (La Liga), Genoa CFC (Serie A) and Estudiantes Tecos (Primera division). Still, I have no EPL squad or rooting interest. Chelsea has Anelka and Drogba (both of whom I like)—but, with its billionaire Russian ownership and the gentrification of a once working-class area, it has become far too 'posh' for me. ManU is basically the British Yankees (see my article here) and deep-pocketed Arsenal is not much better. In that I am half English and the Hudsons are originally from East London, I think a southern English team would be best. So, both Tottenham Hotspur and West Ham are appealing—even Fulham might win me over. Still, I might consider a midland team. However, the north-northwest is too far from my ancestral base to follow. (I was tempted to become an Everton fan last year when Donovan was on loan there—but I am no Scouse.) Anyway, I realize that declaring an EPL allegiance is the British equivalent of converting to a religion; so, I want to get this right. No one wants to be on the wrong side of a holy war.

So, I turn to you, my friends, as the season begins later this month: Who should I support? [Please weigh in and leave your opinion in the comments section.]

Women and Soccer

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 21:27:00 +0000

I received the following from Emily Robbins:

Argentine filmmakers Ginger Gentile and Gabriel Balanovsky are currently
working on a full-length independent documentary film called “Goals for
Girls: The Movie” which follows a group of girls as they fight for their
right to play soccer in Villa 31, a Buenos Aires slum. Despite living in a
country where soccer is a national obsession, there are no professional
women’s soccer teams in Argentina and no laws equivalent to Title IX that
would guarantee equal government funding for women’s sports programs.
“Goals for Girls: The Movie” will tell the story of the Villa 31 girls
soccer team as they fight for equal time on the field, overcome the taunts
and disruptions from boys who often interrupt their practices, and deal
with the stereotype that as poor women their only viable career choices are
teenage mother, criminal or maid.

To learn more about the film, visit their website: http://goalsforgirlsthemovie.org/

Carles Puyol: Unsung Champion, Pride of Spain

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 00:51:00 +0000

The head of long, disheveled curly hair that propelled Xavi’s corner kick into the back of the net for the decisive goal versus Germany in the WC semifinals belongs to Catalan superstar Carles Puyol. In a sport whose headliners are generally strikers and scorers (Ronaldo, Rooney, Ronadinho, even Torres and Villa from Puyol’s own Spanish squad)—much like the quarterbacks and rushers who overshadow the linemen and defensive players in our brand of football, it was beautiful to see my favorite international soccer player, defenseman Puyol mark the goal that sent Spain to the championship game.

Puyol has made his mark on "the beautiful game" with defensive tenacity and gritty leadership. Twice in the past 14 months, he has shut down the phenom many believe to be the best scorer in the world Cristiano Ronaldo (in Spain’s World Cup quarterfinal victory over Portugal and in last May’s UEFA champions league finals where he lead FC Barcelona to the title over Ronaldo’s Manchester United). Without the praise showered upon attackers, in the space of 3 seasons, Puyol has almost silently achieved an unthinkable feat: 2008 European champion, 2009 UEFA champions league champion, and 2010 World Cup champion. Add this to an Olympics silver medal in the 2000 games in Sydney and you have one of the most decorated champions in football history. (Zinedine Zidane would achieve similar accolades, minus the Olympics medal, over six seasons with a ’98 WC and 2000 Euro Cup with France and a 2002 UEFA title with Real Madrid.)

So, as La furia roja and their faithful celebrate their first World Cup, I thought I’d take the opportunity to join them and praise my favorite player. ¡Viva España! ¡Viva Cataluña! ¡Viva Puyol!

SPORTS BOOK REVIEW: Robert Elias’ The Empire Strikes Out

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 21:13:00 +0000

Elias, Robert. The Empire Strikes Out: How Baseball Sold U.S. Foreign Policy and Promoted the American Way Abroad. New York: The New Press, 2010. 418pp. Hardcover: $27.95.
ISBN: 978-1-59558-195-2

In the interim between Independence Day weekend and MLB All-Star weekend, I find it fitting to review a recently released publication on America’s pastime, in what has been by far my favorite sports book of the year, Robert Elias’ The Empire Strikes Out. Refreshingly, while clearly a baseball enthusiast, the University of San Francisco law and political science professor Elias does not defend the traditional patriotic fanfare typically associated with baseball; rather, he examines the sinister underbelly of the bucolic American game and the jingoism engendered in trying to export the American Dream abroad. In his preface, he offers “a different story: American baseball’s projection of itself, for its own sake and also for spreading American influence around the globe” (xi). The result: a thoughtful, anecdote-laden, exceptionally well researched and documented account of baseball as the backdrop (and, at times, the instrument of choice) of the United States civilizing missions of the 19th and 20th centuries. From episodes of intense militarism amidst conflict to the proselytizing efforts of early diamond heroes, from Kennesaw Mountain Landis to Bud Selig, from “Muscular Christianity” to the Steroid Era, in lively prose, Elias plumbs baseball lore to paint a full picture of the perils and draw-backs of imperialistically imposing the American game—or culture for that matter—upon other unwelcoming nations.

Baseball has long represented a cultural divide between the United States and other nations. Everything about our stick-and-ball game, with its unique set of rules, strategies, lingo, and techniques (even when dismissed as “merely an evolution of British rounders” [47] by the previous global empire), is decidedly American. Rising up in the American Revolution and growing with the nation across her history, baseball was a pastoral game in the urban setting of the Industrial Revolution, a welcome diversion to soldiers on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line in the Civil War, a venue of heroes in a post-War era of anti-heroes in the 20s, a racial hotbed in the Civil Rights movement, and a congressional concern in the “age of acronyms” where we distress over WMDs and PEDs alike. To illustrate with a brief anecdote of my own, just this spring I had the pleasure of inviting my Swiss doctoral dissertation advisor (a 30-year resident of Los Angeles) to Dodgers Stadium for his first MLB game. Using terminology borrowed from Quebec, I explained the game in French (as the Dodgers gave Ubaldo Jimenez his only loss of the season, no less!) and my Swiss friend, fine cultural critic that he is, remarked how purely American the game is with its focus on Protestant work ethic, small goals (bases) that build to success (runs), specialization (middle relievers, pinch runners), and the possibility of individual advancement/achievement in a democratic team setting (where everyone participates). Unwittingly, he echoes Walt Whitman, who Elias quotes as stating “[Baseball is] our game… it has the whip, go, fling of the American atmosphere—it belongs as much to our institutions as our Constitution’s laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historical life” (13). The sale of this, the American Way, even following a century of wars fueled by nationalism, has anything but slowed in the new millennium, which is precisely why Elias’ history of U.S. exceptionalism and ethnocentrism, as viewed through the prism of baseball, is ever so timely.

As is the case with all imperialism, Elias’ revisionist history begins on the home front with cases of indoctrination and founding myth, as his two opening chapters explore the surprisingly significant role of baseball in wars fought on American soil (1775-1892) and in what he terms the “missionary efforts” of Albert Spalding (of sporting goods fame) who channeled his intense patriotism and inflated sense of American superiority into an organized effort, a veritable World Tour, to make baseball, and the English language along with it (!), a global lingua franca. Embarking upon Japan, Cuba, Central America, Great Britain, and Western Europe with America’s finest ballplayers, advocates of the American game, as Elias recounts, pitched it to other cultures and into the 20th century using the marked lingo of the period: scientific determinism, machine-like unity, soldierly demeanor, and heroic spirit. Alongside his provocative iconoclasm of Spalding’s efforts, Elias also reconsiders the Abner Doubleday myth—which attempted to establish the Civil War general and West Point graduate as the inventor of baseball and, in so doing, validate it as the national pastime—effectively deconstructing the foundations of the “Baseball Gospel.”

Continuing to chronologically document the global onslaught of baseball through the 20th century in subsequent chapters, Elias takes care to reexamine and provide more naturalistic portraits of various other eminent men from baseball’s canon, including the infamous Charles Comiskey; baseball’s greatest hero (and, perhaps, advocate) Babe Ruth; Dodgers president Branch Rickey’s battles against Jim Crow laws that eventually allowed Jackie Robinson and Roberto Clemente into the major leagues; much-maligned MLB commissioner Bud Selig, who has led baseball through a particularly difficult period of modernization and commercialization, along with an intriguing cast of many more. Maintaining language germane to U.S. Foreign Policy, Elias leads us through the wars that marked the age, through “horsehide diplomacy,” Vietnam syndrome, the Cold War, and 9/11, highlighting the place of baseball within each. Interspersed throughout are interesting anecdotes and events that have colored the American pastime as well as America’s relationship with the global other. For example, I laughed out loud upon discovering the etymological origins of the name of baseball’s most marketable team, the New York Yankees! And, stories of “foreign” players nicknamed Chief, Dutch, Kaiser, Chink, Jap, and Red made me wonder how far we’ve really come when we consider our own Big Papi.

The Empire Strikes Out is a volume designed to force the reader to reconsider our current position on foreign policy. Elias’ explanation of the steroid witch hunt in light of post-9/11 culture is equally enlightening and thought-provoking as it invites us to synthesize our relationship to baseball with that of global politics. Providing ample endnotes (nearly 100 pages) and posing challenging questions, the author offers multiple avenues of further personal research. In an age of Latino-American and Japanese baseball superstars, where the World Baseball Classic is having a hard time catching on, and where our trust of hometown heroes has been tainted by performance-enhancing drugs, Robert Elias turns the mirror on contemporary American society and asks “Has the Empire indeed struck out?” and, if so, what can we learn about our nation from our national pastime before it, too, is reduced to a mere vestige, reserved for nostalgia?

Why all the hype? LeBron's Reality Show in Retrospect

noreply@blogger.com (Robert J. Hudson) — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 04:28:00 +0000

Way too much virtual ink has flowed over the past two weeks for me to give LeBron James, Inc.® much more undeserved press. If the 82-game NBA season and 16 team best-of-7 playoff season does not already drag into late June, what do we do to keep the NBA “Brand”® relevant in the off-season? Well, there is the NBA Lottery (a novel idea that aims to keep teams honest and keep things interesting—and works fairly well) and the draft; still, even with two picks each, how many teams will select even one player capable of contributing in the NBA? What to do? Enter: Free Agency Reality TV®!!!

While I won’t lie and say I wasn’t drawn in by the endless intrigue, the conspiracy theories, the insider leaks, etc., I will now admit that the entire charade was pretty ridiculous. The LeBronathon, The LeBrachelor, The LeBronocalypse (I recommend LA sports nemesis Bill Simmons’ entertaining column on the whole thing)—-call it what you will: it was fun while it lasted but like all reality shows, the pay-off was pretty unsatisfying. “Oh, so he’s going to Miami…” (hmmmm).

And, at what price? At the same time we sat on pins-and-needles awaiting “The Decision”®, Rafael Nadal won on the sacred grass and got one step closer to a grand slam; “La Roja,” the Spanish national team valiantly fought past Portugal and Germany to try to defend their Euro 2008 title with their first World Cup (in yet another all-Europe final); the Tour de France began; USC was levied more penalties for cheating (yay!); MLB pennant races are heating up, etc., etc., etc. BUT… drawn in by the hype, we ignored the joys of summer sports—-some that only come once every four years, to give place to the marketing ploys of the same David Stern Enterprises® that will fill our screens throughout the winter and well into next summer anyway.

French Politics and Les Bleus

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 18:38:00 +0000

The French national team was fittingly eliminated from the World Cup today, losing 2-1 to South Africa. This follows an entire month of dysfunctional behavior by a team and its coach along with much hand wringing in France. In fact, it struck me that the way the French press has covered the French team resembles, in many ways, the way French journalists write about French politics.

Instead of the general outline of big political events like we get in most U.S. papers, French dailies spend pages and pages examining the internecine struggles within parties, the power plays between low-profile ministers in the ruling party, or the minor debates between potential candidates within the opposition (even though the election may be three years away). The coverage is always intense and journalists love to look for behind-the-scenes strife and to expose the politique de corridor.

In the lead up to the World Cup, the French press began looking for--and perhaps inventing--rifts within the team: the Ribéry faction v. Gourcuff; the old guard v. the young players; those supportive of coach Domenech and those who hated him.

With this backdrop (along with the fact that Domenech's successor had already been named) it is not surprising that things blew up as they did (the dismissal of Anelka, etc.). And the reaction of the team was, once again, typical of French political struggles: they went on strike, refusing to practice on Sunday.

Vive la France.

FIFA, UEFA, Nationalism and Culture

CorryCropper@gmail.com (Corry Cropper) — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 17:35:00 +0000

Another post from one of Sven's colleague's on Pileus discusses the issue of soccer, nationalism, and citizenship and the ongoing debate between FIFA and UEFA.

Here is my comment to the post:

While there are frequent disputes between FIFA and UEFA, I think this article points to one of the main cultural differences between American sports and European ones. In the U.S. we crown a single champion at the end of the season. In Europe teams compete in multiple competitions at once. A soccer player may compete with his club for the league season title, the league tournament title, the country's cup tournament (among all the clubs), the champions league or Europa cup, all while playing on his country's national team competing for the European cup, Confederations cup, or the World cup.

So lose one, another one is still up for grabs. This has the disadvantage of not crowning a decisive champion, but has the advantage of keeping fans' interest on a number of levels: even if a team is eliminated early on in one competition, they may remain competitive in two or three others. And fans keep spending money to watch matches. Teams and players are judged on the number of trophies they bring home from the many different competitions.

Just this season Portsmouth, a team at the bottom of the Premier League table, managed to keep their fans coming to games because they made it to the finals of the FA cup (where they eventually lost to Chelsea).

All this to say that Americans like crowning a definitive champion in all sports: winner-takes-all. A look at the debate surrounding college football's bowl system confirms this. American sports are also more insular (no offense Toronto Blue Jays). British or Spanish club teams, for example, look at themselves as part of the broader network of international football. The Yankees and Lakers see any international competition as little more than an occasional nuisance.