Birthdays

Our youngest turned one on Friday.  To celebrate, we took a group of fifteen people to the Verizon Center to watch the Washington Mystics host the Connecticut Sun.

Official attendance was 6,975.  The game was so truly awful that counting the others suffering through it in the stadium was a welcome relief.  Two or three thousand more accurately reflects the people at the game.  The attendance was more depressing than the game.

Fifteen years.  The Mystics are celebrating fifteen years in the WNBA; the attendance banners have come down from the rafters at Verizon and the once proud franchise has alienated even its most sympathetic fans. 

Rather than a celebration, the setting was funereal.

It is a strange setting to watch the denouement of an enterprise that everyone seems invested in failing.  We did not see the end coming for the Washington Freedom -- either time -- but it seems more cruel to have the promise of women's professional sports snuffed out by the franchise itself rather than external factors that could not be tamed.

My daughter turned one Friday.  In fifteen years, maybe it will be a different story.

Mold Breaker

The Baltimore Sun's Bob Parasiliti recently penned a short puff piece defense of the WaPo-ravaged Randy Edsall.  There was nothing earth-shattering about Parasiliti's profile.  The column's pro-Edsall bent is not subtle, and Parasiliti is clearly trying to convince Terrapin partisans that the head coach merits a second-look. 

Vocal Maryland football fans, however, are not sympathetic.  The conventional wisdom holds that Coach Edsall is a stammering, unimaginative drill sergeant, sent from the University of Connecticut to soil the upwardly mobile program crafted and polished by Ralph Friedgen.

While perusing the venomous comments abounding this series of tubes, my head kept wrapping around the intemperate, confrontational language used by the Washington Post's crappy sports columnists playing Salome.  And that brought me back to this past Maryland Day, where the number of fans that turned out for the football players' autograph session was considerably smaller than those at Maryland Day 2011.  Yet, despite the negativity, despite the personal attacks, despite the cutting accusations of professional incompetence, sitting all by himself at a lonely table was Randy Douglas Edsall.  Coach sat there for a better part of an hour vulnerable to the rebukes of any internet warrior desiring to give him a piece of their mind.

If I am a player on his squad, what Coach Edsall did on April 28th was the embodiment of living your word.  If a collegiate coach is going to demand accountability from his players, he damn well better not make himself scarce when slings and arrows are directed his way.  Coach Edsall has not run away.  He has not hidden.

This trait, while admirable, does not win any football games.  But it should win some respect and it should win some vocal support.

Catching Up

When Cameroon's football squad shook off both the lengthy Fecafoot imposed suspension of Eto'o for his alleged role in organizing a protest against remuneration for national team duty and the ignominious expulsion of Roger Milla from the FA to beat an even more dysfunctional Democratic Republic of Congo squad that had eight players ignore call ins to the national side for a world cup qualifier, Iya Mohammed -- yet another cherub adorning Sepp Blatter's collection of angels throughout the world -- might have whispered a prayer of gratitude that Eric Maxim Choupo-Moting managed to convert his penalty.  Or not.  Because, of course, in Blatter's FIFA being accused of long-standing corruption while simultaneously pissing all over the players that make football great in your country nets you an invite to manage the 2014 World Cup.

No matter.  I can fiddle while FIFA burns as much as the next man and, frankly, the only reason I cared about this match was a player that came on as a substitute in the eightieth minute.  Crystal Palace Baltimore alum Matthew Mbuta earned yet another cap for what is, despite Fecafoot's best efforts to sabotage them, a pretty good side.  The same Matthew Mbuta who plied his trade as a professional athlete in front of dozens of moderately-interested fans at UMBC's Retriever Soccer Park.  The same Matthew Mbuta who could gain no serious run out with an MLS team -- including D.C. United -- to harness his exceptional footballing skills.

Mbuta has, obviously, moved on and has a new (likely far more serious) professional employer, Sweden's Syrianska FC.  Thus far in the 2012 Allsvenskan, Mbuta's only played sporadically for Syrianska, seemingly appearing in only three of the club's dozen fixtures to date.

Syrianska is only in its second season of top flight football in the club's history; surviving a relegation playoff last season to retain a place in the Allsvenskan this year.  I had planned on learning about and following Syrianska closely this season after Steve Goff reported that D.C. United's Josh Wicks was set to join the club earlier this year.  But perhaps because Wicks added another incident (this time a headbutt leading to a red card and league suspension) to the litany of moments where impulse control would have helped his squad, any deal between the keeper and club failed to materialize.  Wicks would appear to still be in need of a club.

At the same time, while D.C. United's front-office staff showed little interest in the raw talent of a youthful Mbuta, the team remains interested in past-their-prime European players that are being shown the door by clubs within which they've become living legends.  This time, someone on staff appears to have traveled somewhere other than Vienna, and has focused on Hibernians' former captain Ian Murray.  Unlike the tabloid-concocted Ryan Nelsen return rumors shot down by Greg Seltzer, there is no obvious reason why a link between United and Murray would be invented.

The thirty-one year old center half has previously expressed an interest in leaving Scotland now that he's been released by former Bohs gaffer Pat Fenlon from a decade long affiliation with the Edinburgh club.  Murray has "always hankered for an American style of life . . ." and is reportedly keenly interested in moving to the MLS, so perhaps D.C. United's been the target of his agent's inquiries.

Murray's preference would seem to be to play as a center back or defensive midfielder.  If United is interested it would seem to be another person brought in to bury Ethan White (rather than to address weakness at fullback).  White deserves much better, but at this point, I need to stop complaining about the composition of the squad.  The team this season has been far more entertaining than I had anticipated and I am once again looking forward to games at RFK.

Bought In

That was a blast.

Over the last few years, I've gone to see the U.S. Men's National Team play Cuba, Jamaica, and Colombia.  Doesn't compare to last night's spectacle.

Q:  How do you enjoy a supposed 4-1 drubbing that purportedly reinforces your country's minnow status in world soccer?

A:  When the scoreline doesn't even begin to approximate the action on the pitch.

67,000+ people in the stands, overwhelmingly good-natured, and largely enthralled for the full ninety.  I regret not taking my kids despite what would have been a late night; it was fantastic -- expensive, but fantastic.

I listened to all kinds of commentary on the team and its performance on the metro ride home and couldn't participate because... well...  I just sat back and enjoyed the game.  I did walk out with a real appreciation for Herculez Gomez, who was terrific for the first seventy minutes and still was tracking back and winning balls late in the game.

Plus, why have an opinion when someone, in this case TSG contributor Joshua Wells, can write what you want to say in a much more interesting manner?  Lots of head bobbing during this read.  Wells:

Sure, Brazil is more talented, but Klinsmann knows that as of right now, there’s no reason the USMNT should feel inferior or be intimidated to step on the field with anybody in the world.  Now he’s pleading with his players to buy into that and be bosses because of it.  As American soccer fans, it’s time we bought in as well.

Exactly.

I'm a believer.  Done and done.

In Training

I started this blog five years ago as a personal response to the negative and often hostile tone that is pervasive in sports commentary.  A goal was to create a diary of sorts cataloging and memorializing love for athletic contests as a spectator.

It turns out that it has not been difficult to remain appreciative.  Despite the distance between our new home and the teams of my childhood, my interest in sports has grown in large part due to our close proximity to the University of Maryland.

Monday afternoon presented another unexpected (and undeserved) treat, with the University hosting the U.S. Men's National Soccer Team for a training open to the public at Ludwig.  The team's official blog quoted Oguchi Onyewu as characterizing the crowd for the event as "awesome" and the University's website reported that nearly 2,500 people turned out to watch American soccer players practice.   

I would have guessed that the number was higher because of the line to get in and the dense crowd in the open areas of the stadium.  Regardless of the total, attendance was spectacular.  My daughter and I recognized Joseph Ngwenya going to stand behind us in a large line to enter Ludwig to watch American soccer players practice.

Substantively, I got nothing out of the experience.  I have no idea what players ought to be doing in training and spent most of the time just hanging out with a near-four year old on a hot afternoon sitting on a grassy hillside.  But I will not soon forget the atmosphere.  Virtually everyone around us was thrilled to be there, to have had the opportunity to get up close to these athletes (American soccer players) and obtain some measure of insight into the Juergen Klinsmann era.

I would guess that the day -- both the open event and the public response -- does not happen without Klinsmann.  Come what may in World Cup qualifying, Klinnsmann's early returns have been fantastic in terms of developing a compelling style of play and an entertaining brand of football.  The strengths of the squad's most beloved players (Dempsey, Howard, and Donovan all received raucous applause entering the pitch from the bus) have been highlighted and new stars are emerging.  And we will head to FedEx this evening in a celebratory mood.

Thanks very much to U.S. Soccer and to the University of Maryland for an enjoyable afternoon.

Arrested Deterioration

Nearly six years ago, I set foot in The Valley for the first time and ignited an interest in Charlton Athletic that hasn't waned. As much as I've benefited from following the club, my interest in the team has corresponded with its cascading decline to the third division of English football.

No more.

For the last twenty minutes of Saturday's match against Carlisle United, I excused myself from an open house at a college outside of Philadelphia and followed the nerve-wracking conclusion through updates on Charlton Life.

Congratulations to "Sir" Chris Powell, the squad, the club, ownership, and all of Charlton's supporters around the globe.

It has been an unequivocal pleasure to root for SCP's men this season and whatever else may come, there are three more opportunities to revel in promotion before the hard work of preparing for a return to the Championship begins in earnest.

Fan Appeal

There is a baseball sitting in my daughter's room, her first signed baseball obtained shortly after she turned two at a game between the Bowie Baysox and Harrisburg Senators. The ball is signed by Baltimore's Chorye Spoon (now with the Pawtucket Red Sox) and UMBC's Zach Clark. It is a reminder of a pleasant day at Prince George's Stadium, but one that we've not been able to repeat as she's shown little interest in baseball.

A Louie's Kid Club Easter egg hunt before Saturday's game (against, once again, the Harrisburg Senators) was enough to convince her to give baseball another shot.

We've been going to Baysox games on and off for over a decade and this was the most talent we've seen on display at the park. Baysox reliever Pedro Viola got torched and the game ended up being a blowout. Setting the score to one side, fantastic baseball and enjoyed watching it. Manny Machado's got a terrific arm and looks the part of a superstar shortstop prospect.

I wouldn't have been disappointed if the game had been a snoozefest. We arrived at the park at a little after 11:30 am with another family and left after 5:30 pm. The kids ran the bases after the game -- waiting out the ridiculous delay caused by Hector Nelo throwing at Edgardo Baez's head with two outs in the ninth and the Senators up ten runs -- and bounced out to the parking lot nearly six hours after walking in. Six hours.

Virtually everything the Baysox's management did for the game was pitch perfect. Our concerns about little kids getting trampled by bigger kids grabbing every plastic egg in sight were eliminated by the introduction of a limited number of "special" eggs that drew the most competitive children away from everyone else and a reasonable limit of eight eggs for all participants. Making the kids park free up until an hour before the game was a very nice touch. And the hula hoops laid out for kids to entertain themselves (something the club's done for awhile) ate up at least 45 minutes of game time.

I'd brought baseballs for all the kids with us as another tactic to kill time before the first pitch. Our seats were down on the field, on the first base line near the dugout. And, if you've got young kids and an interest in baseball, this is the place to be pregame. The Baysox players were terrific; particularly with kids who had never asked for autographs before. Sean Gleason spent a few minutes chatting with them about their plans for Easter. Just talking. One of the kids with us got eight autographs on a baseball and had short conversations with half of those players -- making her far more interested in rooting for the players when the game started.

My daughter's Orioles Dugout Club magazine had arrived in the mail on Friday, with a short feature on the Baysox's (and St. John's College High alum) L.J. Hoes. L.J., despite being one of the most heralded prospects in the Orioles' system, came by and spent time with the kids after warming up. Even Machado -- considered to be Baltimore's best prospect -- stopped by. And while he doesn't seem to have any particular affinity for kids, being stand-offish seems completely reasonable when adult men are chasing you down so they can put up more memorabilia to sell on eBay.

We had a great day at the ballpark. And there are now two baseballs in my daughter's room. Thank you Bowie Baysox.