Yep. Wayne wants it known that if you peel back his skin to reveal bone, you might find the following inscription:

“Just Enough Education to Perform”

Now, you might be thinking, “Hmmm. Somewhat clever.” Until, of course, you realize that “just enough” is actually “none at all.” England, you see, makes sure their footballers don’t bother with stuff like education. After all, how much education do you need if you’ re built like the Incredible Hulk and can kick a ball straight?

And anyway, it’s an album title from Wayne’s favorite band, Stereophonics. No, they aren’t good – unless you think it would be totally awesome if the Black Crowes and Audio Slave united and developed welsh accents.

But the real victim here is Colleen. Her chav-for-life not only got a “freeze-this-moment-in-time” band tattoo, he also entered the dangerous territory of “medical tattoos.” I can imagine worse choices, but still.

You might think it impossible be to shocked by the behavior of Joey Barton. “All the cigar-stubbing, pants dropping, and training ground-beating has pretty much sapped my ability to register surprise,” you say. Well, feast your eyes on the recently released CCTV footage of Barton’s infamous McDonald’s Christmas Assault. Or preserve your faith in humanity, and don’t.

Newcastle have been in the running for my support: if they don’t sack Barton purely on the madness captured in this clip, they will BE no longer.

13 year old boys want to marry pop-stars, models, and actresses. Pop-stars, models and actresses want to marry Premiership footballers, actors, and rock-stars. Premiership footballers are 13 year-old boys trapped in men’s bodies. Ergo, premiership footballers will marry pop-stars, models, and actresses.

Sounds like yet another example of natural selection, doesn’t it? But the all too familiar corollary is this: Pop-stars, models, and actresses often belong in the loony-bin. Girls that are the stuff of boyhood fantasy are seemingly prone to mental instability, emotional volatility, and illegitimate pregnancies. One look at the Premiership WAGS confirms this unfortunate fact, and cautions us all to be very, very careful what we wish for. Today, Soccernista takes a look at the yin and yang of the typical Prem WAG.

Cheryl Cole (Wife of Chelsea back, Ashley Cole)
The Yin: Clearly, Cheryl is shit-hot gorgeous. She was a classically trained ballerina at the elite Royal Ballerina School, and won the British talent competition Popstars to secure a place in the band “Girls Aloud.” Horrible double entendre aside, “Girls Aloud” consistently rates among the UK’s favorite bands. During the World Cup, Cheryl was quick to distance herself from other WAGS, reminding the press that she was, indeed, a self-made woman.

The Yang: In early 2003, Tweedy was in a London nightclub drinking her face off. On the way out of the bathroom she clocked a bathroom attendant and, ostensibly because the attendant was black, screamed, “You black bitch!” Tweeds was convicted of causing bodily harm, fined, and given community service. She then noted that some her best friends (band mate Javine Hilton) were black. Classy.

Merche Romero (Girlfriend of Manchester United midfielder, Cristiano Ronaldo)
The Yin: Merche Romero is a onetime actress who currently hosts a Portuguese Morning show. At 30 years old, she is 10 years Ronaldo’s senior. We would assume this advanced age brings with it wisdom and perspective, as Romero frequently participates in charity and good will activities. She is generally well regarded, and certainly beautiful, but….

The Yang: SHE HAS A 14 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER. Yes, Cristiano Ronaldo is closer in age to Merche jr. than he is Merche sr. We would never relegate single mothers to the dating bench, but the teen pregnancy + “I was born in the ’80s and so was my girlfriends daughter” aspect has to worry Cristiano. Are none of these goods undamaged?

Abigail Clancy (Girlfriend of Liverpool striker, Peter Crouch)
The Yin: Abi is a singer turned model. She began her run as a member of the girl-band “Genie Queen,” and recently appeared on the reality series, “Britain’s Next Top Model.”

The Yang: Apparently she likes to ski. Photos of her on the slopes surfaced during the 2006 World Cup, and Crouchy promptly sent her packing. The tabloids seized on the story and Crouch chose to issue a press release emphasizing the finality of their break-up. Recently, however, the pair have been seen together all over Liverpool and things seem to be back on for Sniffy and Beanpole. Old habits die hard, we guess.

Alex Curran (Girlfriend of Liverpool midfielder, Stephen Gerrard)
The Yin: Alex is the mother of Stevie G’s two daughters, Lillie-Ella and Lexie. She also writes a weekly fashion column for the Daily Mirror and is considered a UK trend-setter.

The Yang: What’s with these girls and nightclub punch-ups? Curran is currently under police review for allegedly striking a fellow reveler in the face with a bottle. Some reports suggest the weapon of choice was a designer handbag, a fact which may render the offense both less serious and more fashionable.

Danielle Lloyd (Girlfriend of West Ham striker, Teddy Sheringham)
The Yin: Danielle was this year’s Miss Great Britain. 40 year-old Teddy has been dating the beauty queen turned model for several months.

The Yang: Miss GB is dumber than a rock. In an online version of the UK quiz show, Test the Nation, Danielle let loose a flurry of raw stupidity. Question: “Who was Winston Churchill – a rapper, US President, the Prime Minister, or the King?” Answer: “Wasn’t he the first black president of America? There’s a statue of him near me – that’s black.” Yikes.

Elen Rives (Girlfriend of Chelsea midfielder, Frank Lampard) The Yin: Rives is a Spanish beauty and one of the WAG ringleaders. She and Lamps met in a Spanish tavern while Chelsea were on holiday. Says Frank, “She was very different to other girls I had known in Essex. I never dreamt I would end up with a Spanish girl.” The two are engaged to be married next spring.

The Yang: How’s this for a headline: “Top WAG’s Secret Marriage to Dirt-Poor Jordanian.” We’re pretty sure that’s on the list of top 10 things you don’t want to learn about your fiance. But I guess that makes Frankie right about one thing: there probably aren’t any Essex girls married to impoverished Jordanians.

That twelve teams play from April to October in order to qualify for an eight team tournament is absurd. The teams who don’t qualify will simply take an early vacation, returning the next spring to prepare for another 6 months of barely meaningful activity. Remaining teams will brave severe weather for a chance to play in the hallowed grounds of something called Pizza Hut Park. Bring on the confetti cannons.
Is their not, for the love of Stalin, another way?

Of course there is, but it just happens to be the third-rail in American Soccer. Mention the big “R” and you will literally see league executives and owners freak out. Middle-aged men in poorly tailored suits and embroidered polos begin to fall apart before your eyes. Caught in the headlights between the possibility of losing their money and the prospect of doing what’s right for American soccer, they will fall back on the mantra of MLS: “Remember what happened to the NASL.”

How a league that featured the Jacksonville Tea Men came to be regarded as a deliverer of cosmic truths is beyond me. What began as an argument for a salary cap has become an excuse to run a single-entity ownership system that Mao tse Dong would be proud of. Paralyzed by the potential for financial loss, MLS props up failing teams and holds back potentially successful ones. Yes, teams are now being sold to individual owners, but player acquisitions, trades, and transfers abroad continue to be managed like a Ho Chi Minh City bread-line. How can there be real success if failure is never really an option?

Enter relegation, the norm for every country on the planet that runs a successful domestic league (including all the ones who routinely man-handle us in international competition). The MLS could instantly solve their relevance problems by adopting a system of relegation. What does relegation accomplish? It makes every single game important. Teams at the top of the table are fighting for a championship, while teams at the bottom of the table are fighting to stay in the league. As excitement swells at both ends, so too does interest. American soccer fans (whom, the league is realizing, mostly avoid MLS) will flock to a system they recognize as the world standard. Attendance at all levels will rise, and teams will become more thoughtful stewards of young talent.

And what are the risks? League owners, harbingers of wealth beyond most people’s wildest dreams, will lose money if their team goes down. Get relegated and you may go bankrupt; fail and you stand to lose a bunch of cash. Welcome to America.

Many fear the risks associated with relegation will chase away potential investors and usher in the collapse of the league. But competition doesn’t just attract fans, it attracts owners willing to gamble large sums of money on success. 60% of Premiership teams expect to lose money this season, indicating the competition has attracted owners willing to spend their fortunes in pursuit of trophies. Risk could still be managed with a salary cap and sharing of television profits, but the ultimate standard would be whether or not a team wins.

MLS, instead of relying on owner’s competitive spirit and willingness to accept risk, depend on benefactors of the game interested in “promoting soccer in America.” The result? Excellent professional players meet twice weekly, in front of few fans, in order to meander their way through another season. Last. First. Green jacket. Red jacket. Who gives a shit?

So, what if relegation were in place today?
DC United look to be cruising to a well deserved title. They are the league’s premier franchise and would avoid the indignity of entering a knock-out round to prove it.

The real excitement, though, is at the bottom of the table. No less than 7 teams are adrift at the bottom, with two others dangerously close to being dragged into the fight to stay up. Even last year’s champs, hurt by poor board-room management and uninspired play from Landon Donovan, would be in real danger of dropping into the USL.

And who looks to be coming up? There’s a real possibility MLS would get the Canadian franchise they so crave. Montreal top the USL First Division table, chased closely by the perenially healthy franchises from Vancouver, Charleston, and Rochester. Promotion to MLS has long been a dream for these clubs, and now they just need the opportunity.

A final thought.
MLS features quality players that deserve a quality competition. If the league continues to hedge its bets and over-manage its risks, fans will continue to stay away. This weekend, I sat among 92,000 soccer fans in a packed LA Coliseum. This country is obsessed with soccer, and it’s ready to support a real league rather than a recreational exhibition.

Remember: when the league was formed, shootouts resolved ties and the clock ran down from 90; moronic ideas that came from the same decision makers we have today. Enough with the tampering, gentlemen. Give us the league the fans and these players deserve. Only then will I glue myself to a Galaxy/Crew match; it’d be a six-pointer, after all.

A fantasy league championship does not represent a hollow victory: it is a confirmation of your overarching knowledge of the game and your general superiority in intelligence. In the year of bragging rights it ushers in, your crown allows you to berate friends and coworkers in a manner otherwise unacceptable. You are the resident soccer genius. You are the dog’s nuts.

But to get there, you have to do your homework…or, at least, have someone do it for you. The Soccernista Fantasy Premiership Preview will give you the inside edge on your ignorant-ass competition. We’ll let you know which players to pick, and which to avoid like the plague. So read on, mein freund, and when you’re dancing around the office with a coffee pot on your head, singing about how your boss is skippering a shite football team, drop us a thank you. It’s all that we ask.
NOTE: All tips refer to the very excellent and very free league at premierleague.com

The Henry Factor
Last year’s leading goalscorer will be the priciest player in the fantasy market. Is it worth plunking down such a sum on a single player?

You may not have a choice. Because so many fantasy managers enlist the services of the Frenchman, you can’t afford to be left behind when Henry catches fire. The windfall of points will hit three to four times per year, and league rankings will quickly separate the Henry-haves from the Henry-have-nots. Sure, you can try and differentiate yourself by passing on Thierry, but why risk it? Pick him, and use your remaining spots to out-manage the competition.

Promoted Poachers.
Just like when Hickory High School went to the state tournament and measured the height of the hoop, a few promoted strikers will find the goal in the Premiership to be the same one they routinely found in the League Championship. Last year it was Darren Bent. The year before, Andy Johnson. This year, it will pay to have the promoted striker who brings his strike-rate with him to the next level. From Reading, Kevin Doyle’s 18 tallies in ‘05/’06 may indicate top-flight readiness. For Watford, it’s Darius Henderson who may fit the bill. And for Sheffield United? Don’t hold your breath: we’ve seen Geoff Horsfield before in the Premiership, and like him better in the Championship.

Something to Prove.
Need is a powerful motivator: why else would topless modeling photos exist of every actress on the planet? When looking for goalscorers, focus on those who, for whatever reason, need to score goals. Craig Bellamy, a player who awaits trial for assault, needs to score goals in order to justify Liverpool’s confidence. Tottenham’s Jermaine Defoe needs to score goals to resurrect his career. Jose Antonio Reyes of Arsenal needs to score goals to secure a move back to Spain. Identify need, and the topless photos, er, goals will pour forth.

The Underlay.
A number of striker’s will have trouble justifying their price, but there’s one in particular that stands out as an outrageously bad deal: Theo Walcott. The Arsenal youngster has generated a great deal of hype, despite never appearing in a Premiership match. The fantasy market has him valued higher than a number of proven goalscorers including Marlon Harewood and James Beattie. No matter what you think of his potential, Walcott would be overvalued at half his current asking price. A wait and see attitude is advised.

The search for midfield value.
The bulk of your team’s points will likely come from the midfield: the numbers are greater and the points-per-goal awarded are too. Most players will be eager to include either Frank Lampard or Steven Gerrard, and you certainly could do worse. But midfielders from mid-table teams will produce a greater points return for their value. Kevin Nolan, for instance, earned 156 points last year compared to Gerard’s 176. The difference in price? Gerard can currently be had for 10.5 while Nolan can be yours for a mere 8.0, a difference of nearly 25%. Similar cases can be made for mid-table midfielders such as Luis Boa Morte and Stelios Giannakopoulos. Both offer stellar production at reasonable prices.

Defenders who score are worth their weight in gold.
Like Chinese restaurants with windows, defenders who can score are a rare find. When you come upon one, it is truly a gift from the fantasy league gods. Chelsea’s John Terry (4 in ‘05/’06) and William Gallas (5) both fit the bill, and their price reflects their ability. The sleeper, however, is Portsmouth’s Matthew Taylor (6). Considering he can currently be had for the bargain basement price of 5.5, Taylor represents one of the best buys in the game.

A new reason to hate the Nevilles.
Cautions and ejections hurt the bottom line, and no player hurt it more last year than Phil Neville. Amassing 10 yellow cards and 2 red cards, the Evertonian cost his supporters 26 points over the course of the season. Avoiding Phil (and his brother Gary, on principle) is a must. Other frequent violators include Robbie Savage, Lucas Neill, and Edgar Davids. Invest at your own risk.

When is it bad to have the best?
The top goalkeeper in the Premiership, Peter Cech, also happens to be the most expensive. Cech, however, was not the highest point producer of all goalkeepers last year. In fact, six other keepers ranked above him, with the reasonably priced Edwin Van der Sar tops among these. In terms of pure value, though, you’ll have a hard time beating Blackburn’s Brad Friedel. He generated 148 points last year, making his current valuation of 5.0 look like chump change. Buy American.

The new boys.
Somehow the grass was always greener, and getting what you previously couldn’t have can be exciting. This phenomena has led to an all-out fantasy rush to acquire the services of Chelsea’s big summer signing, Andriy Shevchenko. But unless you think Chelsea will score twice as many goals this year as last, it bears reminding that “Sheva” will be sharing the plate with Chelsea’s most prolific scorer, Didier Drogba. Can they both produce numbers justifying their insanely high prices? If you doubt it, look elsewhere for new blood. Our tip: Tottenham’s Bulgarian signing, Dimitar Berbatov, not only has a ridiculous first name, he scores in batches as well.

Last tip.
Two words: Louis Saha.

Good luck to all the fantasy managers this year…May your strikers stay healthy and your transfer kitty stay full.

Nationwide, the symptoms of World Cup withdrawal have taken hold. Alcohol consumption is down, productivity at work is up, and relationships are recovering. Fans are feeling empty, wondering what to do with the extra 4-6 hours in the day. They need a fix, and they need it fast.

The search for an adequate World Cup substitute, a soccer methadone of sorts, began the day after the final. Those awaiting the Spanish league kick-off will be biting their nails until August 17. Premiership fans will wait until August 19th. And Serie A faithful, if any are left, will hold off until the last week in August.

But there’s another way.

We Americans are one of a few populations to have at our disposal a domestic league that runs through the summer months. In fact, the damn thing is running right now.

If you’re not currently one of the 382 MLS fans in the US, that means you have not yet been seduced by the “Embrace the Colors” campaign. Watch the commercial here, then resume reading.
What, not an MLS fan yet? How can you deny the face paint? The kick-ass spoken word poetry? You, my friend, are a tough nut to crack.

In its forming, MLS had counted on young people who grew up playing the game to become die-hard fans; then they did everything in their power to alienate these folks. With crap team names, a single entity ownership system, no relegation, stifling salary caps, and gimmick players, the MLS has achieved the status of an American soccer league that fails to attract American soccer fans. For most serious soccer devotees, there may seem like no way past these obstacles.

Until now.

Soccernista.com submits for your approval a fail-safe, five-step program for achieving MLS fandom. If followed to the letter, you will find yourself uncomfortably addicted to a league you currently rank below Magnum P.I. in watchability. Your summers will never again be soccer deprived, and you might just find the MLS deserves your attention, repect, and prescious TIVO time. Let’s begin:

Step One: Take out an atlas and locate the nearest MLS squad.
Congratulations: this is your new favorite team! Before you embrace the colors, you have to have some colors, and geographic proximity is as good a reason as any.

Step Two: Deposit $100 into an online sports book.
As every male between the age of 21 and 50 knows, a little action makes even the Westminster Dog Show feel like the Super Bowl. Couldn’t care less about your new team? Put $10 on this weekend’s game, and proceed to disappoint your significant other with a childlike display of partisanship. You’ll be calling players by their first names, cursing referees, and threatening to do damage to personal property, simply because you stand to make a few bucks on the result. The seeds of MLS fandom (not to mention a potentially life-ruining gambling addiction) have been planted.

Step Three: Perform a small act of hooliganism.
Mild excitement breeds mild violence, and by now you’re mildly excited by your new team. Find a friend you can comfortably handle in a wrestling match, and ask him/her, “What team do you support?” They will respond with some reasonable reply like “Arsenal,” or “Barca.” This should be met with a “Wrong answer!” and a mild beating (Indian burns, noogies, wedgies, etc.). You might be surprised by how good it feels to physically intimidate in the name of a soccer team, even if that team is called “The Rapids.”

Step Four: Purchase an HDTV.
We never said this process would be cheap. As any HDTV owner knows, everything is better in High Definition. In fact, I sometimes find myself watching truly unwatchable programs (this morning it was a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert) purely because the picture is in HD. When the World Cup came to a close, soccer in HD became a one-horse-town with the weekly MLS game on HDNet being the lone ranger. The difference really is significant, and you will quickly find yourself rearranging schedules to catch the Saturday night MLS eye-fest. When the picture is so clear you can see every soldier in Landon Donovan’s retreating hair-line, embracing the colors becomes that much easier.

Step Five: Embrace the colors in person.
The quality of MLS matches will shock you when witnessed first hand. Player speed is high, the tackles are tough, and most games are played in wide-open fashion. Is it the English Premier League? No, but since when is Anfield within driving distance? MLS teams feature some of the US’s finest players, and this talent is best experienced at the stadium. To boot, concession stands have circumvented the two-beer-per-person rule by pouring 22 ounces into each cup. This is a good thing, as the “colors of MLS” are easier to embrace through beer goggles.

Follow up: By the end of the five-step program, you’ve chosen a team, tied your hard earned money to their fortunes, performed an act of hooliganism in their name, and viewed them in high definition. Your trip to the stadium solidified your status as a fan. And though you might not be trading in your favorite European club jersey for the Wizards away strip any time soon, those long, soccerless summer months will be ever so much easier to deal with.

Now, where was my face paint?

I can’t believe you added those photos of our good american soccer boys to your dirty dirty dirty website. You should be ashamed of yourself. Next time let’s keep the focus on the football and not the “homophobic” photos.
Sean G. from Reno, NV
I think the word you’re looking for, Sean, is “homoerotic”. In no way are we at Soccernista homophobic; we love those pictures and think every American soccer fan should see them (or see them again, here). There’s no need to fear Landon Donovan drinking water in a sexy manner, or The Beaz cold chillin’ with the chain. And certainly we have nothing to fear from McBride arching his stretch-pant clad torso. No one need fear this group. Just ask Ghana.

You basically claim Ronaldinho would be the reason or one of the reasons Brazil won’t “raise the cup”, but I think you’re overlooking Carlos Parreira…he wouldn’t let Brazil play their game. You were quick to place Arena on the chopping block, why not Brazil’s coach?
David L. from Los Angeles, CA
I agree that Parreira deserves the final helping of blame stew. The idea, however, that all Brazil needed was a license from their coach to play beautiful, attacking soccer, is absurd. Even the Brazilian media are jumping on it, saying that Parreira’s approach was too “pragmatic.” Does anyone think Brazil were enacting a tactical plan when they hung back against Ghana and relied on counter-attacks? Not a chance! They were unable to keep possession and were pinned into their own end by a talented Ghana side. The notion that Brazil could have beaten France if Parreira had simply said, “Joga Bonito, my fine friends!” is a load of crap. Brazil went out for a lot of reasons, none of which could have been solved by allowing the players more freedom to “play their game.”

The first black pope needs to swing by the Vatican for some help. He has been disappointing.
JD from Chicago, IL
First off, I agree Eddie was a big disappointment. The real meat of your email, however, is the “black pope” issue. You’ve got something there. I see t-shirts with Eddie wearing a pope hat. Goal celebrations where Eddie blesses the goal scorer. MTV cribs episodes where Eddie shows off the Pope-mobile, glass bubble and all. This thing has legs.

Who actually makes the picks for Man vs. Machine? Is Lukey the Czech a real person? Will he be on the site after the world cup?
Eric S. from Eugene, OR
Yes, Lukey the Czech is a real person who subsists primarily on Pilsner, various Polish meats, and high-end cigars. He has, though, been doing some unreal things. At the time of writing, his picks had earned over $200 (based on $10 mythical wagers). We have gotten a number of Lukey inquiries, most suggesting that he is cheating in his competition with the Playstation. The methodology, however, is foolproof: Lukey emails me his picks, I simulate the game on a PS2, and then we calculate payouts using sportsbook.com lines…it’s all kosher. Lukey the Czech will continue to give his picks for the MLS game of the week, and he’ll be releasing a Fantasy Premier League Preview in August. As long as he keeps us in winners, we’ll keep him in Urquell, kielbasa, and Partagas.

That PK was one of the worst calls i’ve ever seen and the pk is ridiculously, disproportionately punitive. I’ve always hated ghana and now i have a reason.
Robert S.
I agree, the penalty on Gooch was absurd: possibly a foul but in no way meriting a pk. Which brings us to the “proportionality” issue of spot-kicks. You make a good point, Robert from nowhere, that penalties can seem like cruel and unusual punishment. A possible solution might be to allow referees to award indirect kicks in the box for infractions that would otherwise be direct, but don’t necessarily deserve a shot on goal from 12 yards out. The Gooch situation is perfect. Sure, it might be a foul, but did the foul prevent a clear chance at goal? Give Ghana an indirect inside the box, and reserve the pk for fouls that prevent goal scoring chances. The first one is free, Sepp Blatter.

And our email of the month:

All within the space of 10 minutes, Balboa called David Beckham, “Michael Beckham,” and then referred to a Paul Robinson stop as a “reactionary save.” This guy sucks. I googled him, and got this:

Stick to your day-job, pony-tail.
Zack from New York, NY
Zack, you made my week. Any words I have would just spoil the beauty of your post.
Thanks to all who wrote, and keep ‘em coming.

The Manure Ball
Given to the worst player in the 2006 World Cup.
And the award goes to: Eddie Lewis of the United States, who looked like he had won a Federation fan raffle for a place on the team. Within the first 10 minutes of the Czech game, Eddie realized he was in way over his head. He then proceeded to do an excellent impression of a terrified forest animal for the remainder of the Cup.
Honorable Mention: Heldar Postiga of Portugal.

The Steve Sampson Award
Given to the Worst Coach in the 2006 World Cup
And the award goes to: Sven Goran Eriksson of England.
With his midfield-by-committee approach, Sven led the most talented England team ever into a cesspool of boring performances. The apparently star-struck Swede seemed unwilling to assign roles, make wholesale changes, or bench underperforming stars. Come to think of it, he could manage Brazil next.
Honorable Mention: Carlos Parreira of Brazil.

The Where Have You Been All My Life Award
Given to the player who best made a name for himself during the 2006 World Cup.
And the award goes to: Stephen Appiah of Ghana. Currently plying his trade in Turkey, Appiah distinguished himself as a powerful force in the midfield. Though he played well throughout the tournament, he showed even better once out of suspended Michael Essien’s shadow. Look for Appiah to make a big money move in the near future.
Honorable Mention: Franck Riberry of France.

The Greg Louganis Award
Given to the worst diver of the 2006 World Cup.
And the award goes to: Christiano Ronaldo of Portugal. In a tough category, Ronaldo and his larger than life neck came through by virtue of sheer commitment. Nearly every one of his endless, purposeless dribbling runs ended in a flop, and his Spread-Eagle sprawl against France had to be the worst in the tournament.
Honorable Mention: Thierry Henry of France.

The Buddy Ryan Award
Given to the most ridiculous sideline behavior by a coach.
And the award goes to: Bruce Arena of the United States. I have word from a friend who watched all the US games in a Czech pub that the mere sight of Arena on-screen caused spectators to erupt in laughter. Indeed, his melodramatic “how could this be happening” routine was old by the 20th minute of the first game, yet continued for another 250 minutes. And though it probably can’t be considered “behavior,” his status as the fattest coach in the Cup didn’t hurt him in pursuit of “The Ryan.”
Honorable Mention: Luiz Felipe Scolari of Portugal and his water-bottle kicking, tantrum throwing antics.

The Golden Mane Award
Given to the player with the worst hair in the 2006 World Cup.
And the Award goes to: Manuel Loco of Angola. Foregoing the mane, Loco decided to affix a comb to his forehead. Irony? Perhaps, but mostly just a bad idea.
Honorable Mention: Christian Wilhemsson of Sweden and his rat tail.

The Joe Theisman Award
Given to the worst commentator in the World Cup
And the award goes to: Marcelo Balboa of ABC and ESPN. Having hair like Balboa’s hints at problems beyond simply poor taste in grooming. This is a grown man with hair straight out of a Vidal-Sassoon advertisement. Are no other adults counseling this individual? Has he no friends that might say: “Gee, Marcelo, you look like an idiot.” The result of such latitude in one’s personal life is that a falsely constructed confidence carries over into places where it doesn’t belong…like, the broadcasting booth. We’ve seen the results: endless nonsense, meaningless crap, egotistical self-referencing. Nice work, ass-hat.
Honorable Mention: JP, John, and Dave.

The Roy Keane on a Bad Day Award
Given for the worst tackle in the 2006 World Cup
And the award goes to: Khalid Boulahrouz of Holland. Christiano Ronaldo needed to be plucked, but not in the dangerous fashion employed by Mr. Boulahrouz. The studs to the thigh opened up a gash and should have resulted in a red-card and suspension.
Honorable Mention: Jorge Nuno Valente of Portugal’s shoulder high studding of Arjen Robben.

The Roy Keane on a Good Day Award
Given for the best tackle in the 2006 World Cup
And the award goes to: Fabio Cannavaro of Italy. His stop on the frighteningly quick Miroslav Klose was a masterpiece of defending. Looking like he already knew how the confrontation would end, Cannavaro cut the space between he and Klose and erected a wall through which no man and ball could pass.
Honorable Mention: Haminu Draman of Ghana on Claudio Reyna.

The Suck and Cut Award
Given for the worst innovation in the 2006 World Cup
And the award goes to: the 5-4-1 formation. All the rage, the single striker look is a vastly complicated scheme that many teams (England, US, Portugal) had no business playing, but did. The single striker role can only be given to shoulders wide enough to carry it; Mark Viduka, Luca Toni, and Jan Koller to name a few (believe it or not, Brian McBride does not fit the bill). Let’s hope teams that play it well keep it, and those that don’t, fire their ignorant coaches.
Honorable Mention: The indecipherable FIFA ticketing system.

And a shotgun of Bests and Worsts:

Best Game: Argentina-Mexico
Worst Game: England-Paraguay
Best Tie: Sweden-T&T
Best Goal: Maxi Rodriguez’s wonder volley against Mexico.
Worst Goal: Cristian Zaccardo’s technical malfunction versus the US.
Best Fans: South Korea continue to lead the way in maniacal support.
Worst Fans: Brazil fandom has been poisoned by hangers-on and part-timers.
Best Striker: Miroslav Klose of Germany
Best Old-School Strike-Duo: Carlos Tenorio and Augustin Delgado of Ecuador
Best Outside-back: Gianluca Zambrotta of Italy
Best Center-back: Fabio Cannavaro of Italy, with props given to Lilian Thuram of France.
Best Center-mid: Misseur Head-butt, with props to Andrea Pirlo of Italy
Best True Flank Player: Young-Pyo Lee of South Korea
Hardest Worker: Carlos Tevez of Argentina
Least Hardest Worker: DeMarcus Beasley of the US, with props to Ronaldo of Brazil.

Did we miss anything? Drop us a line and we’ll add it.

In the newest Nike advertising campaign, Eric Cantona chides players for being “cheats and liars”, recommends we hold on to our childlike innocence, and asks that “honor” (hard “h”) be put back in the game. All this from a man who once flew into the stands at Crystal Palace and delivered a kung-fu kick to an opposing fan’s chest.

But that is only the second most ridiculous thing Nike expects us to take seriously. The first? That Brazil will win the World Cup.

And it’s not just Nike. ABC and the ESPN networks deliver daily Brazil-worship orgies, the best of which featured Rob Stone standing in a field of daisies professing his “love” of Brazil. I kid you not.

While this type of overexposure might do nothing more than cause eyes to roll, genuine fans of Brazil should be genuinely concerned about their team’s performance thus far. Based on their displays, I for one have no problem going out on the following very short limb: Brazil will not lift the World Cup in 2006. Saying that in polite company is akin to kicking a dog. But this is a dog I’ll kick willingly, and here are 5 reasons why:

Parreira is married to a fat man.
Loyalty to your fellow man is an admirable quality. Loyalty to overweight strikers is a crime against humanity. Brazil manager Carlos Alberto Parreira goes way back with Ronaldo; he selected the then boy-phenom to the 1994 Brazil side that went on to win the World Cup. 12 years on, the boy-wonder-turned-goal-scoring-great has landed in Germany with a double chin and a barrel physique. Parreira gifted him a place in the lineup against Croatia, and Ronaldo turned in a stinker. Fans, media, and the president of Brazil all called for Ronaldo to be replaced. He wasn’t, and looked only marginally better in the Australia match. His 2 goals against Japan will serve only to falsely validate Parreira’s faith. Ronaldo will continue to be a big fat zero for Brazil. And zeros do not deliver silverware.

Ronaldinho fits better with Barca.
Ronaldinho has not played well. Aside from toothy grins (contractually obligated, no doubt) he has contributed little. He will, one feels, eventually find his form, but the question remains: is he as useful to Brazil as he is to his club side?

Ronaldinho is a special player, and special players demand accommodation. Barcelona have surrounded Ronaldinho with a cast of remarkably professional and sturdy international veterans. The calming influence of players such as Edmilson, Mark van Bommel, and Rafael Marquez is a perfect foil for the frenetic energy of Ronaldinho. Brazil are short, very short, on calming influences. Cafu is noteworthy, but he is lost in a team that values entertainment as highly as results. Ronaldinho, coupled with dynamic players Kaka, Robinho, Roberto Carlos, and Ze Roberto, may make for too sweet a cocktail.

Kaka will not, and should not, play second fiddle.
The pacy AC milan midfielder has been the bright spot for the Brazilians thus far. His long-legged jaunts from midfield have been a joy to watch, and every time he touches the ball defenses are forced to back-pedal. So what’s the problem?

All of his attacking moments seem to be self-made. Ronaldinho finds him when it suits him: if Kaka makes a forward run that might demand Ronaldinho thread a needle or perform a back-heel, Kaka will see the ball. But a simple ball given over out of common sense? Doesn’t happen. Kaka is special enough to be catered to and schemed around. Ronaldinho is too, and fancies himself as such. There may not, however, be enough to go around. When the knockout phase begins, the tough choices need to be made regarding roles, and under-emphasizing Kaka will prove costly.

Robinho is not ready.
Brazil fans have been maintaining confidence in their team through a bizarre insurance program; the Robinho Plan. In its current form the plan plays out like this: Our two first choice strikers don’t need to play well because Robinho will replace them, and he’s better anyway. So far, so good. But the days of Robinho terrorizing defenders like Tony Popovic and Yuji Nakazawa are numbered. When Brazil moves through the knockout stage they will come up against seasoned, world class defenders. Brazilian fans will eventually get their wish and find the 138 pound Robinho installed up front permanently. We’ll then see if they regret putting the hopes of a nation on the shoulders of a boy.

Argentina.
If they meet it will not be until the final in Berlin. Argentina are looking like an especially well organized, well managed side. In Lionel Messi they may have the game’s next superstar. For Brazil to beat a side like Argentina, they will be forced to deal with periods of prolonged pressure. Are the Samba Boys capable of employing an “all hands on deck” defense of their own net? Doubtful, as soccer with a smile is always easier to accomplish against lesser opponents. In other words, you won’t find commentators waxing poetically over Heinze, Tevez, or Crespo. They are the stuff of rock quarries, not daisy fields, and may prove the difference when Brazil move from the marketing department onto the match surface.

Legitimate or not, the notion the U.S. attack lives and dies under the hand of Donovan seems to have been borne out through qualifying. And one has a difficult time imagining scenarios for World Cup goals that don’t involve his influence. You have to wonder though: have we pinned our hopes to the right man?

Much has been made of Donovan’s escape from the Bundesliga, and I had promised myself not to rehash the juicy details of his “return” to the MLS. For those that may have missed it, however, a short recounting seems necessary: his girlfriend made him come home.

This may seem harsh, but let me draw a parallel. Imagine you are in a bar with any number of your closest friends. Your phone rings. It’s your girlfriend. You leave. Will they applaud your exit? Admire you for “choosing your own path”? Or will a blizzard of insults, jokes at your expense, and shoulder punches rain down on you like the Salmon of Capistrano?

And Landon Donovan didn’t leave a bar, he left the Bundesliga. Left a league with an average attendance of over 39,000 rabid fans per game, and the highest goals per game of any major European league. Along the way, he has sited the weather and the German playing style as reasons contributing to his departure; this is akin to complaining that the bar your drinking in doesn’t serve white zinfandel and refuses to accept Canadian money.

All of this is water under the bridge, however, if we assume that the MLS is just as fertile a ground on which to grow international superstars. Indeed, the quality of play in the league has climbed to a level where an exceptional player can fully expect to meet competition capable of maintaining his ability. Annually, players make the jump to more prestigious leagues and arrive capable of making an impact. The name Brian McBride comes to mind. DaMarcus Beasley certainly registers. Tim Howard, errr, nevermind. But the point is that MLS can produce and/or maintain impact players. remains: is he as useful to Brazil as he is to his club side?

Ronaldinho is a special player, and special players demand accommodation. Barcelona have surrounded Ronaldinho with a cast of remarkably professional and sturdy international veterans. The calming influence of players such as Edmilson, Mark van Bommel, and Rafael Marquez is a perfect foil for the frenetic energy of Ronaldinho. Brazil are short, very short, on calming influences. Cafu is noteworthy, but he is lost in a team that values entertainment as highly as results. Ronaldinho, coupled with dynamic players Kaka, Robinho, Roberto Carlos, and Ze Roberto, may make for too sweet a cocktail.

In Donovan’s case, however, the point might be lost. By his own admission, Donovan is “comfortable”, “happy”, and “content”; traits that make for a nice retirement, but not necessarily mark a player readying himself for the most important sporting event this nation participates in.

If I were Donovan, “comfortable” is just the way I’d describe having to compete for a first-team spot against someone named Herculez Gomez. Indeed, if Donovan were to play from a lawn chair in the first half of a Galaxy match, Steve Sampson would recommend that he be provided with iced-tea for the second. Ask Van Nistelrooy, or Owen, or Campbell if they spent the last 4 years in “comfort”. Ask any Chelsea regular how “comfortable” they are, whether it be in a stadium or on the training ground.

And so I’m taking a wait and see approach before I marry my hopes to Landon Donovan. He is, when engaged, an extraordinarily dangerous attacker capable of terrorizing defenses. The proof will be in a pudding flavored with traditional Czech and Italian spices, and it ain’t no comfort food.