The 2010 World Cup in 30 Easy Minutes

The 2010 World Cup is just about finished.  Tomorrow afternoon, Spain's National Team takes on The Netherlands in the biggest international sporting event in four years (of course, everywhere but the U.S.).  We're attending a different sporting event tomorrow afternoon, and frankly 90+ minutes in front of the TV to watch soccer is little too much to ask of the kids.  Instead of intently watching my phone in our seats to catch a score, we decided to determine the winner of the match the American way - by playing the game on the Wii.

The rules are simple.  Spain vs. the Netherlands in a three game series.  My two boys and I would alternate playing for the same team in a three game match against the other team in 2010 FIFA Soccer (EA Sports...it's in the Game!).  Spain was rated 85.  The Netherlands was rated 80.  So of course we had to be Spain.  We would play at the medium level in 5 minute halves. 

8pm.  Home.  I thought the comedy involved with having the two boys be teammates would entertain my daughter and me in the first game.  Unfortunately, I had to talk my oldest son in playing with his little brother in the first place.  I alternately had to convince my younger son that the medium level wasn't that hard.  He knew better and started to talk about "not playing."  Oh, you're playing little buddy...  I had to fight their urges to fight one another and complain about one not passing to the other a litlle too much to enjoy this game.

Game 1.  Spain includes G and C.

What a debacle.  Spain, by far the best team in EA Sports (and thus my top pick in reality World Cup soccer), was no match for the computer Dutchmen.  I stopped counting yellow cards and fouls once my 6 year old committed his fourth Red Card offense leaving Spain with a mere 7 men left to play.  11 players on 7 is very difficult (and ridiculous; stop slide tackling little man!); and the score reflected the fact that my boys were playing 4 men down.  Netherlands wins 8-1.  After a good scoring opportunity at the 4th minute, goals were pouring down on my boys.  We could hardly contain our excitement - err - our sadness.

Spain - Goals: David Villa 58';  Red Cards: Cap de Vila 26', Sergio Ramos 35', Marchena 55', Alonso 56'.  Yellow Cards:  Puyol 40'.  Missed Penalty Kick - David Villa; 9 shots.

Netherlands - Goals:  v. Persie 6', Van der Voort 15', 47', 68', 89', de Jong 22', Kuyt 30', 54'; Made Penalty Kick - Van der Voort; 25 shots.

Game 2.  Spain includes JMR and C.

Unlike the first game, this was a real nail biter.  The two of us were playing with real focus, as if our lives depended on it Escobar-style.  Yes, this game was real important to the two of us since my son knew that if Spain loses this one, Spain will lose the big match, too.  After getting out to a 3-1 lead, Spain had some defensive lapses (all right Dad had some defensive lapses) and had to hold on for a 3-2 win as the Dutch robots were attacking at the end of the match.

Spain - Goals:  Torres 2', 50', David Villa 67'; Red Card: Marchena 38'; Yellow Card:  Sergio Ramos 35'; 13 shots.

The Netherlands - Goals:  Van der Voort 35', Kuyt 78'; 8 shots.

Game 3.  Spain includes JMR and G.

I had a little pep talk with my 6 year old.  His older brother was getting in his grill about sliding and tackling too often and leading to inevitable yellow and red cards.  "Just use the B and C buttons" I implored.  "OK Dad, I promise."  Another tight match.  Back and forth.  The groans and screams in exultation were numerous.  Unfortunately, Spain came up short as the Netherlands scored in extra time to win 4-3 and take the three game series 2-1.  We were all a little disappointed.

Spain - Goals:  Xavi 10', Torres 56', David Villa 79'. Red Card: Puyol 22'; 8 shots.

The Netherlands - Goals:  Robben 52', v. Persie 70' Van der Voort 84', Kuyt 90'; 12 shots. 

MVP - Although the Series winning score went to Kuyt, Van derr Voort, with his 6 goals takes home the MVP software.  Unfortunately, our series match demonstrates that the Netherlands is going to win in overtime 2-1.  The boys didn't care though, they just wanted to keep playing Wii Soccer.  I'll join them as soon as the blister on my thumb and my broken wrist heal; I promise.

Photograph courtesy of daylife.com

Getting Lost in the LeBron James Shuffle

I was so sick of hearing about the LeBron James saga.  No, not about "The Decision."  And, of course that was where he was going to go, I would go to South Beach too over Cleveland - in a "Hearrrrtbeeeat."  I'm talking about all of the media outlets screaming and crying about how much of a narcissistic fool LeBron James was for starring in The Decision in the first place.  You can read all about the following points of view - that it has been a ridiculous circus, Lebron has an enormous ego, LeBron's entourage and ESPN are to blame and of course the expected comparison to Art Modell, who hightailed it out of Cleveland in 1995 to Baltimore of all places.  Even MM used social media to express her opinion that LeBron was a "Narcissistic crybaby."  Curiously absent from the James-bashing was ESPN, probably because they were the media outlet that conceived of this plan almost 2 years ago and got the exclusive rights to show the James decision.  I agree that this spectacle is ego-massaging at its best.

Amid all of the name calling and sweating, one thing has gotten lost though.  LeBron isn't here for you, sports reporters.  He's here for me and all of the other fans of the Cavaliers and the NBA in general.  He's here for my three kids, who buy the hot dogs and jerseys and bug their parents until they buy tickets.  After all, you sports reporters get your tickets for free; I have to pay for my tickets.  I indirectly pay for LeBron's salary, just like I pay for all of the Celtics' salaries - well except for you Sheed, I would like to get my money back from you - and you sports reporters don't.  I would even go so far to say that I pay for sports reporters salaries too. 

As an example, I was listening to 98.5 the Sports Hub in Boston earlier this afternoon before LeBron made his decision.  The bile coming out of the mouths of Tony Mazz and Mike Felger (even more than usual!) was astononishing considering the LeBron James story meant that they didn't have to do any work for the last two days since their content was fed to them on a silver platter.  I don't blame them for their feelings, but guys like these have lost touch with their audience.  We don't care if LeBron James has created a circus or had his entourage stroke his ego.  We just don't care.  What we care about is finding out what games we're going to next year, because my boys favorite player is King James.  And if we're going to games next year it will be against the Heat, because of HIM.

8pm.  Home.  The kids will get to stay up later than usual tonight.  This was the biggest sports story of the year and they would pissed if they missed it because of an imaginary deadline like "bedtime."

"Where do you think LeBron is going to go?"  I ask the boys.

"Heat" they both say simultaneously.  Then my 8 year old pipes in "Or the Bulls, because they are so bad."  I'm not sure where they got this information.

"Why does he always dunk? He's such a show off!" I then hear as they show a montage of his 2009-2010 highlights.  I gently explain that LeBron best game is when he drives to the basketball and does fancy things wiht the basketball.  I then have to ward off requests for the game show "Wipeout."  I hope this starts soon, because I'm in for Wipeout if this doesn't start moving a little bit.

We then watch the cities' reactions and latest buzz.  It amuses me to see Knicks and Bulls fans think that they have a chance; the Sportsnation Poll even suggests that fans from those states still think that LeBron is going there; how charming.  I don't have time to comment further before my 6 year old asks me (after seein Chris Bosh picking up his third banana t-shirt)  "Is Chris Bosh is better than Ray Allen?" No.  "Is Chris Bosh better than Paul Pierce?"  NO!  He then moves on to yelling at his Mother to watch the TV lest she miss the "Decision."

"If he goes to the Heat, I'm rooting for the Heat.  What about you, Dad?"  "If he doesn't stay with the Cavaliers they'll be the worst team ever.  Is your favorite team now the Heat?" 

"I'm not going to root for the Heat.  I love the Celtics."  I explain.  It's clear that ESPN has orchestrated this so well that my kids think that the Heat is the only team in the NBA.

9:30pm.  Finally, we are on pins and needles.  Even my 6 year old rouses from his sleep long enough to hear LeBron say that he is taking his talents to South Beach.  I'm not even sure what that means; I assume that he has picked to play for the Heat.  My wife and I are disappointed.

"I can't believe he taught all of those youngsters sitting in the background about how to stab a bunch of people in the back."  I guess you have to get them used to it early on so they know what to expect when they become adults.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.  I don't care what you have to say, Stu.

My 8 year old and 6 year old then go on to ask me when they can go to a Heat game next year - presumably in Boston.  They then ask if there will be tickets available when they come to Boston.  The inevitable jersey requests soon follow.  "OK, these are the two teams that I'm going to root for, the Heat and the Celtics."  The requests are coming fast and furious now. 

After the kids settle down a bit, I remark that LeBron and Dwyane share the same jersey number.  "No, Dad, Dwyane Wade is #3 and LeBron James is #6;  Mario Chalmers is #6.  You're so stupid!"  Great.  They just gave me an excuse to send them to bed for being fresh to Dad, not before looking at the boys with pride that they are sports trivia nuts.  And not before I record the rest of the special for the boys at their request.  You see, this is about us - the fans.  We have a new team to watch, and even more importantly a new team to boo.  We don't care about anything else tonight.  Bring on the Heat!!


photographs courtesy of cnnsi.com

Where in the World is Jacoby Ellsbury?

We were watching the game last night.  The camera panned the Red Sox dugout during a time of lucidity and focus of the boys and myself.  Upon seeing Josh Beckett in a Red Sox warm up jersey, my 6 year old shrieked "Josh Beckett!  I didn't know he was still on the Red Sox!"

My 8 year old then inquires about Jacoby Ellsbury, who is noticably absent.  "Dad, is Jacoby Ellsbury still on the Red Sox, too?"

I find it strange that Josh Beckett is with the team on a night like this, but noone has seen Jacoby Ellsbury.  "Yes he's still hurt.  He broke his ribs."

"What has it been, Dad?  4 months?  I think he's just being lazy and he's just faking!"  My 8 year old states.  I can't say I blame him for feeling this way.  It seems as though Ellsbury has been on his own schedule for the last six weeks, probably at the direction of his super agent, Scott Boras.  Incidentally, I don't point out to the boys that he returned for a couple of games at the end of May before landing back on the disabled list.  They seemed to be enjoying all of the Ellsbury-bashing.  "He's so stupid!" my six year old concludes.

But exactly where is he, and why is he not with the team?  The answer is Athletes Performance Institute in Arizona.  Does he have cracked ribs or is looking into cryogenics or retirement communities?  Ellsbury has always made an impression that he is a little soft - good or bad - that's our impression.  My 8 year old thinks he's faking his injury for crying out loud.  He should be with the team and rehabbing his injured ribs in Boston.  So what's really going on?

The answer might be in that very-telling ESPN article referred to above.  As the story goes, The Red Sox Team doctor, Tom Gill diagnosed cracked ribs.  After discomfort continued, Ellsbury received a second opinion (on the advice of Scott Boras thinking about arbitration eligibility).  What was discovered was a nother crack in the posterior side of the ribcage.  While everyone was saying the right things, the quotes from the ESPN article suggests that Dr. Gill missed the posterior injury.  Because of this, Ellsbury will end up missing at least half of the season.  Boras and Ellsbury, upset that the team's doctors misdiagnosed the injury, just as Ellsbury's earning power was increasing, took the dog and pony show to Dr. Lewis Yokum and API.  Now Ellsbury won't show up until he is perfectly healthy.  We'll see if it's the right move.

Because the Red Sox are playing well.  Despite numerous injuries in the Outfield, unknown players such as Darnell McDonald and Daniel Nava and career bench players Bill Hall and Eric Patterson are putting up numbers that are not dissimilar to those that Ellsbury would be producing.  I hope Ellsbury gets healthy, but I agree with my 6 year old's assessment. "We don't him, Dad, we have good outfielders already!!"  The Red Sox win-loss record would suggest that that's right.

photograph courtesy of squidoo.com

JMR's List of the 5 Longest Sporting Events Ever

They probably didn't think that they would have to play each other three days in a row.  But here we are.  John Isner, a 19th seeded! American has battled qualifier Nicolas Mahut to a virtual draw.  It even made the cover of ESPN, something men's tennis has failed to do in years (except when talking about Andre Agassi's drug habits or the rampant betting that occurs in Men's Tennis).  Incidentally, this match has been suspended not once, but twice, because of darkness.

Even though the match winner still has not been determined, almost every record in the history of tennis match play has been broken - number of games, length of match, number of points, longest set, most aces.  In fact, I saw a table of longest matches, and the Isner-Mahut match is longer by 50 PERCENT than the second longest match.  It got me to thinking about what the longest games have been in the five major sports in the U.S.  At first, I looked here for the answers, but decided that that was a little over the top.

1. Baseball.  It wouldn't be baseball unless there were actually TWO records.  One record for most innings and one record for longest game in hours.  In fact the game that holds the record for most innings (26) actually ended as a tie game (Dodgers 1 Braves 1, May 1, 1920).  There is no doubt that Bud Selig used this game as his litmus test when he called a tie in the All Star game 5 years ago.  The longest game in time occured back in 1984 when the White Sox defeated the Brewers 7-6 in a game that lasted 8 hours and 6 minutes.  The fans I'm sure were excited to sit through that game knowing that beer and food were sold out at hour 2 of that game.

2.  Football.  Christmas Day, 1971.  An NFL Playoff Game between the Dolphins and the Chiefs.  The Dolphins eventualy won this game with 7 minutes and 40 seconds gone in the Second Overtime.  The funny thing about this actually was my research.  So many people were condemned for asking such a "stupid" question.  They were scolded that games end up in a tie after the 15 minute overtime.  Followed shortly by the answer given above.   At least three research sites had this string of questions, snarky answers and salty responses.

3.  Basketball.  In a 6 overtime thriller, the Indianapolis Olympians defeated the Rochester Royals 75-73 on January 6, 1951.  A real yawner of a game, if you ask me.  I understand that in the 30 minutes of overtime play, only 23 shots were taken.  23 SHOTS?  How is this entertaining?  By the way, how did the team from Indiana get the name, the "Olympians?"

4.  Hockey.  March 24, 1936.  This is the time of the original 6.  Mud Brunteau scored the game winner for the Red Wings as Detroit defeated the Montreal (soon to be) the Canadiens in the sixth overtime of a semifinal playoff game.

5.  Soccer. (European Football).  Who cares?

So tomorrow, John Isner and Nicolas Mahut will face each other for a third consecutive day.  Neither of these guys will win their second round match regardless, and maybe they don't care.  They just want this to end.  I don't blame them.  As John Isner said at the end of Day 2, "Nothing like this will ever happen again.  Ever."  I hope not, for their sake.

photo courtesy of cnnsi.com

The Night We Went to the Derby

If you know me and this space, when you read about the "Night We Went to the Derby," you're probably thinking we went to the Kentucky Derby or some other type of horse race, or perhaps we strolled the local shopping mall.  Not this time.  This time we went to the Derby where, in the immortal words of my three year old "the girls go to kill each other!!"  I admit that that was a sentence that was uttered out of my mouth to engender some excitement - but who cares?  JMR and crew was going to see the Boston Derby Dames.

It all started on a fateful afternoon in April.  Desperate to look for some weekend entertainment for C, G and DLG, I came across a flyer for the Boston Derby Dames.  I remember Roller Derby from when I was growing up (and frankly Roller Derby brings all of us back to a more innocent time, when the Fonz was cool and Pinky Tuscadero was the bomb), and remembered fondly a couple of times that I watched Roller Derby when I was younger.  So we decided to check out the "bout."

With names like the Nutcrackers, the Cosmonaughties and the Wicked Pissahs, I asked around to see if perhaps this was not the kind of show I should be taking three impressionable children to.  When convinced that the show was at worst a "rated PG" type event, I decided to roll with it.  I just hope that Anna WrecksYa and Ivanna Shankabitch are not in the first bout.  Those names might be kind of hard to explain since they will understand some of the other play on words that these ladies travel with.

4pm. April 2010.  We arrive at Shriners Auditorium early so we can get good seats.  As we're walking slowly toward the front entrance, I notice dozens of people milling around the parking lot, cooking food on grills, drinking beer out of the standard red plastic cups and playing muscle music as loudly as possible.  Is this where Pats fans go during the offseason?  I then notice a line out the door comprising fans waiting to get in.  Strange, I think to myself.  We park ourselves in line under the door where we see the letter in our last name is.  I suppose this is organized almost like the Pinewood Derby - sitting in alphabetical order.  Soon I realize that we're in a will call line.  

"Where do I buy tickets?" I ask the two biker chicks standing in front of me.  They look at each other and smile.  One of them spits some sort liquid out of her mouth and laughs at us.

"This bout was sold out weeks ago!" She gruffly answers.

"You're kidding?!" I say incredulously.  "Really?"

"Really."  She snorts.  "If you wait around, you can probably scalp some tickets toward the start of the bout."  That, I find utterly ridiculous.  I'm not going to teach my kids that you can get what you want by paying more than face value to purchase tickets illegally - well at least for Roller Derby.  The Sox or the Pats are a different story.  

Disappointed, we return home.  But the JMR clan will not be denied our fun, so the next month we purchase our tickets online well before.  The kids are warily looking at me as we get in the car for the one hour drive to Wilmington.  When my 8 year old asks to hold the tickets, I tell him that we have to get them when we get there.  He looks sort of pissed when he chimes "That's what you said last month, Dad!"  I ask him if he wants to see the credit card statement proving that I actually bought them this time, with only a slight hint of sarcasm.

4pm. May 2010. Wilmington, MA.  This time we confidentally stand in line where the first letter of our first name is to get our tickets.  After a couple of minutes, we're inside.  Just in time to see the first bout, the Wicked Pissahs versus the Cosmonaughties.  I'm not sure if these teams are both based in Boston; I assume that they are.  This is the "warm up" bout before the Boston Massacre take on the best team - Olympia - for the main bout.

The rules are little too complex to explain in this space.  If you're interested, check out the full rules here.  There are a lot of referees, a lot of skating around in circles and a lot of points scored.  But suffice it to say that each team has a skater that needs to get by all of the other skaters in order to earn points within a 2 minute timeframe.  That and you can't really hit each other to block people, you can just get in their way.  Incidentally, that rule will later come back to haunt us.  I try to explain some of the rules to the kids.  My 6 year old doesn't really give much consideration to the rules when he blurts out "When are the girls going to kill each other??"  Some people look around with me to try to find the perpetrator of such an ignorant statement.  My 8 year old is horrified.

Luckily, the lights go down and a buzz starts growing from the crowd.  We're all getting excited, not knowing what's going to happen.   Finally, after a ten minute introduction about the rules, the teams are introduced and play begins.  Led by co-captains Hayley Contagious and Splitter Noggin (my 8 year old's favorite name), we decide to root for team blue (I call them that instead of the "Cosmonaughties" to avoid the inevitable questions.) 

Unfortunately, while I am enjoying myself watching the bout and figuring out the nuances of scoring, the kids start getting restless.  The girls aren't killing each other enough, I learn.  We decide to leave just as the bout turns really exciting (the Wicked Pissahs eek out a five point victory, I find out later).  I try to talk them into staying, but once one of them utters "McDonalds" it's all downhill from there.  So we end up leaving, but not before the kids try some Kickass Cupcakes and we take a couple of photos.  Despite them claiming to be bored, the Roller Derby is all we talk about as we drive home.  Maybe they had a better time than I thought?

You know, whether they had a good time (which I think they did) or they were bored, they will always be able to say to their friends that they went to see Roller Derby when they were kids.  Just like learning the piano, you don't appreciate experiences like that until you're older.  Maybe they will go with me next Saturday?