DCU: Fullback, with whom I tend to agree about football and tactics, and BFF, with whom I do not. In this case...well, I'm not entirely enamored of either of their primary thrusts. BFF thinks that the solution to our problems is to play our defensive line higher and engage the opposition strikers farther from our goal. I do not believe that our defensive line has the requisite skill to do so. Fullback has a complex theory about why Clyde Simms, who is worn threadbare, does better with two holding mids. Since I think that 4-2-3-1 sucks ass unless you're Barcelona and 4-2-2-2 sucks worse when you're a bunch of hailmary assclowns tryiing to play a possession game until you get panicked, I do not entirely agree, and I think that the solution is to get a holding mid who isn't as fucking worn out and used up as Clyde (who is a saint and a proud part of our tradition), and play the 4-4-2 diamond. Fullback is unhappy with the space that creates in our midfield. Or maybe the places the space is created.
Me? I'm gonna position as the simpleton on this one. I like goals. I like attacking. I like people who run after the fucking ball. I like passes toward the opposition goal. I like balls that have direction and intent and get to where they're supposed to go unless someone really, really smart and quick cuts them out. And whatever conclusions we draw from beating the fucking Redscum 1-0 in their park with me there, I like that. A lot.
Futbol pics (photography by Ilse):
|Click to actually see Barra up in their corner. We lucked into a better deal through an accident of birth.|
|Postgame. See a ginger midget, knock his punk ass down. Now more than ever.|
BFF goes on a gender equality tear--the Brazilian women are every bit as filthy as the men. The commentariat at LGM thinks he's a racist (seriously, read it--fucking hilarious levels of gasbaggery). I think...damn, I really do love Marta, I've had the pleasure of watching her up close a number of times, and she's really fucking amazing. She's also wonderful to the fans, the grownups, the kids, the Americans, the Brazilians. I've seen rent-a-cops decide that they had to drag her away from returning the love as she kicked and twisted and tried to sign one more autograph, to light herself up for one more little girl in soccer kit on a fucking weeknight at a fucking high school stadium in the fucking burbs. I've seen her do magic, I've seen her do violence, I've seen her make the Earth move clean and dirty. I've seen her kill two soccer teams, and the one I haven't seen her kill is in fucking Buffalo. She's fucking fascinating, just an absolute marvel of humanity. I have never seen another player like her, full stop.
I think BFF is right like this: you put young athletes on the field for high stakes, emotional or financial or otherwise, and they get passionate and competitive. It's what sport is about. He and I both bitch mightily when we don't see the passion we expect. I've done it in this post, in fact. I think Marta is a brilliantly competitive athlete, and past that...I'm not sure analysis of what happened on Sunday is meaningful. Set it against Abby Wambach--also an incredibly nice young person with whom I've spoken casually, who I've seen happy and angry and competitive and richly giving of herself to her fans--same deal, different language, different flavors, but same deal.
Would I feel differently if we'd lost? Yeah. I'm a jackass that way. I can live with it.
New York, New York: This restaurant. Yum. This park is real spiff, an outstanding example of urban design and development and reuse and rescue and livability. This museum, which may not do a hell of a lot for you, but, y'know, boys and toys and all that shit. Pics, you say? Sure, why the fuck not?
|Walking down the High Line. I took this one, which is why it sucks.|
|Undeveloped portion of the elevated tracks at the 30th Street end of the High Line (to be developed into more High Line in the future).|
|Cityscape from the High Line|
|Lackawanna Terminal in Hoboken, from the High Line.|
|Things that catch Landru's eye. I took this one, too.|
|Awesome World War I propaganda from the Intrepid Museum's exhibit on women and the home front.|
1 Becky Sauerbrunn and Cat Whitehill, to name two, and I have good reason to bet that Cat Whitehill has no fucking earthly idea why Pia Sundhage seemingly hates her guts. Hell, Amy Lepeilbet, who's a conversion at left back, while Sauerbrunn plays it like a natural whether or not she is. But...Pia coach. Me? Moron former JV (and fourth-string varsity) keeper with keyboard. Roll your own conclusion.