Intercultural Advice for Germans Who Coach U.S. National Soccer Teams

Now that world soccer is taking a break from club competition for a new round of national team matches, I thought I'd apply my well-honed intercultural expertise to the spat between U.S. National Team coach Jurgen Klinsmann and Major League Soccer commissioner Don Garber. You see, recently, the MLS lured U.S. soccer stars Michael Bradley and Clint Dempsey back home to the good ol' U.S. of A. from some respectable European outfits (Roma and Tottenham, respectively).

Coach Klinsmann, who (as you know) is from Germany, raised concerns about his marquee players moving from the traditional power houses in English Premier League and the Italian Serie to  the U.S. Market. In a recent interview, he said that "it's going to be very difficult to keep the same level that they experienced at the places they were. It's just reality. It's just being honest."

Such honesty didn't sit well with the MLS brass, and Garber called his comments "personally infuriating." Now, Garber's "infuriation" may be due MLS branding worries, or perhaps about the perception that the U.S. National Team and MLS should work hand in hand to build U.S. soccer, but there could also be an intercultural communication issue at play. Klinsmann's comments were quite direct, and we Americans can have a hard time German directness. Now, as a Southerner, I grew up in a culture where you learn to give the bad news with the least direct way possible. For example, say I'm wearing a hideous, tacky tie. The German response would be: "That tie is ugly and you should be ashamed for leaving the house with it. It doesn't help that you're a unattractive person to begin with."
The American response: "Wow, that is a colorful tie you got there! I LOVE it (really), but I think the establishment requires that you wear a tie with one color, so why don't you try a navy blue."

Therefore, I've collected a list of sentences that Klinsmann could use to talk to players about their MLS careers while avoiding further infuriation.

(Note: For the sentences to work, you need a continuous smile. Also, practice flashing your eyes at every stressed syllable. Practice in a mirror as necessary.)

• "It's so GREAT that you're playing Sporting Kansas City next week! You know, wouldn't it also be fun to play Chelsea or AC Milan?" 
• "The MLS is the best league in North America!"
• "I mean, the MLS competition is great, but the quality is just an inchy, squinchy bit lower than some of the European leagues. Just an inchy, squinchy bit." (Sip your sweet tea and smile)
• "Oh, you're leaving the English Premier League? It must be the weather..."
• "Oh, bless your heart!" 
• "What a wonderful league you're moving to! I need to refresh my drink." (Then walk away)

I hope this helps.

These Sweaters Don't Run

The Wall Street Journal wonders if the new Under Armour suits are responsible for Team USA's disappointing speed skating run in Sochi. My problem with the suit (since you asked) is its lack of patriotic fervor. I mean, the Dutch are cleaning up the event, and they're wearing Netherlands orange spandex you can see from space. Meanwhile, the Stars and Stripes are wearing uniforms that conspicuously lack both. They're black with a silver crotch - neither color's on the flag. I know black's probably back to being the new black, but really, they all look like cyclist ninjas.

Look at the Dutch or the Russian home team - they're wearing their colors with pride at every event! They love their countries, and you see it a ski jump away. Good for them! We're dressing our athletes like America's out of style.

You're already thinking of the exception: Those fantastic, yes fantastic! opening ceremony sweaters. Don't like the sweaters? Well, if you don't like Gramma, apple pie, and Abraham Lincoln, that's your problem. I love the sweaters, and I hope Under Armour is paying attention to those who can do it busy style. (We know from those University of Maryland football unis that they an do patriotic) I think red and white stripes down those long, skater legs would be a start. Some other suggestions:

• Would it be against the rules for US ski jumpers to wear American flag capes?
• I guess all the figure skaters look smashing in their own right, but what an Uncle Sam Suit? Or better yet, George and Martha Washington for the doubles. 
• Can we design skier or bobsled helmets that look like star-spangled cowboy hats?
• ...and ice skates on cowboy boots. 

Frankly, if you can't enter the sports arena like Apollo Creed in the first Rocky, well, I don't want to root for you. 

Surviving the German Winter Part IV: Temptation

This is part IV of an award-winning*, four-part series on surviving the German winter. You can read part I here, part II here, and part III here. 

Remember your New Years resolutions? New Year, new you and the rest of it? Remember how through the harmonious combination of diet and exercise, you were going to sculpt your body into something that, come summer, will cause traffic accidents outside your house as you flex in your living room with the window open? If you've managed to keep them until now, then let me say this: respect. So many of your comrades have fallen victim to Jack Frost. It's a sick irony that New Years' resolutions are made in the dead of winter. Winter is no season to avoid chocolate. Winter is no season to ride your bike three times a week. You'd be lucky if you can brave the cold enough to get from your office to a fitness studio.

Now don't get me wrong. I've managed to work out during the winter. For a few moments when I step out into sub-zero temperatures to go jogging, I feel like a superhero. I don't feel like a superhero, because I move with superhero strength (nope). I feel like a superhero because winter running tights are the closest I get to wearing a superhero costume in public. If I could find them in patriotic blue with red briefs, I'd be even closer. Mercifully, they're black. The idea is that while running, no one has to see me in them for more than a few moments. Besides, all the Germans wear exercise tights while exercising. Anything less form fitting would be unnatürlich.

***
A brief aside on exercise fashion. When we were back in the States for Christmas, I couldn't help notice how many women wore exercise tights for non-exercise purposes. In the grocery store or around town, the uniform was as follows: exercise tights and tennis shoes (both perfectly clean with no trace of sweat) with a stylish, semi-professional shirt and perfectly placed hair and make up. It was puzzling for these ever-europeanizing eyes. The look suggested, 10K on the bottom, business casual in the middle, job-interview on the top.

***
Ok, winter exercise. Things were going well until one frosty day, I sought to prove I wasn't a Warmdüscher and went running on one of the few forrest paths that wasn't salted. There was only one minor fall, but the awkward running on hard, hard ice was enough to give me a slight tear in the achilles and a week's limp. The doctor gave me some of that magical Chinese tape that all the soccer players are wearing, but the incident was still demotivating. Superheroes don't get small tears thanks to ice and bad form.

I am back to running - carefully - but temptation is much harder to avoid.

This is how it goes: I squeeze my body into my exercise tights and head for the front door when I hear something in the kitchen. It's a voice singing "Baby It's Cold Outside" the way Nora Jones sings it. What is it? Oh, don't play the curiosity card. I know dagum well what it is. It's that Swiss chocolate bar that I was supposedly saving for the moment my ambitions were realized. It's supposed to be my, my reward, for crying out loud! Well... some things deserve a reward. Something like thinking about going running in the sleet. (Big eyes. Pouty face) Just one. little. chocolaty. square. Where's the harm in one tiny little square? Besides, I'm an American! A free person, using my agency to maximize my utility! Why do I need to conform to puritan notions of nutrition? I can have a little taste - just a taste - if I want. Who's going to judge me? If I eat, say one row of squares, I mean, I could devour the whole chocolate bar, but what's the harm in one, harmless row of squares? I mean, baby it's cold outside, and I, frankly, could use a little comfort in trying times (like January or February). I deserve to be comforted, and I don't see why you should judge me!

But what's this? No... Some how, my chocolate bar has found a boy chocolate bar and multiplied. There's a good dozen Swiss chocolate bars that inexplicably found their way into the secret corners of our kitchen. Dark. Milk. White. Hazelnut. Minty. Oh, and Marzipan! No prejudice, just the entire variety of chocolate experience in one snack drawer. I mean, I have no choice but to try them all. It's my duty as a connoisseur to know, to understand all of the tastes! I could write a blog about it, too, and wasn't that another one of my New Year Resolutions? It won't be more than two or (in extreme circumstances) three squares each, and, yes, I know that will all add up to more than one chocolate bar, there will still be plenty left to share with my wife and daughter, provided they come home soon. Speaking of my daughter, I know the packet of gummy bears is her reward for successful potty training, but... she won't notice if a few are missing. You can't accuse me of taking candy from a baby - she's over three! Baby was so a year and a half ago. Oh, and what is that smell? Why, did the oven just give birth to cinnamon rolls? Two or three, while they're fresh. I shouldn't eat too much. After all, I intend to pop open a hard earned Hefeweizen at the end of the day, so I need to save room.

...yeah...

The worst thing you can do for your New Years Resolution is lock yourself in from the blizzard surrounded by candy and beer. Just don't do it. Instead, pack your winter stocks with tomato juice, herbal tea, mandarin oranges, walnuts and whole-grain bread. Also, don't go running when your belly is full of chocolate. And, don't run on the one path in Germany that isn't salted. Take it from me.

*I gave myself the award for best series published on the blog in February. 

Olympic Post

The closing ceremony is over. The medals have been lovingly packed away (sorry if the American team took so long... zing! Hollah!). I watched it. Like other sports, I loooovvve watching the olympics. I remember watching the '84 Olympics with my mom. Both of us were especially excited by the horse-jumping. As I grew up, I was dazzled by Carl Lewis and the original dream team and Michael Phelps and marathons and running and jumping and swimming and synchronizing! This Olympics was no exception. This Olympics was spectacular. I loved the variety - sports, countries, fans, scenery. Well done, everyone.

Here are a few post thoughts:

1. Keep all the sports. Keep that ever-expanding Olympic Leviathan consuming strange, wonderful sports from all five ringed continents. And why not? Basketball's popular, running is elemental, but why not include walking, synchronized swimming or handball? The fun part of the olympics is that the popular and the obscure meet on level ground (or water). The olympics isn't a closet to sort out the stuff that prevents you from finding your favorite socks. There's room for everybody in the party. Now, the impatient sourpusses who can't handle flipping between rhythmic gymnastics and field hockey might ask, where do we draw the line? I like the cigar test - if you can smoke a cigar while playing without it impeding your performance, then it's not a sport (sorry darts and poker - they show you on ESPN, but not the Olympics...).  But everything we might find boring (I find riding bikes in circles in the gym boring, but I can't deny it's a sport and the athletes are worthy - plus the moment when that old Brit came back and won and cried during the anthem... well, good stuff) or not fitting into our cultural understanding or looking silly.... I mean, the 50 km walking looks silly. Evidently, proper athletic walking technique involves shaking your hips in a sexy salsa dance style. But I've never seen a sport where so many people keeled over in exhausted. Well, maybe at band camp, but that always involved asthma and heavy brass instruments... But anway, there were 303 disciplines. Keep'em all... 
2. Speaking of different sports, how can we even talk about who's the best olympian all time? Folks can make they're case for Phelps, Bolt or dozens of people before them (maybe Bolt makes his own case - this seems to annoy some folks, but I like his Muhammed Ali showmansship - plus, behind the cocky act, he clearly takes joy in running like a cheetah). Apples, oranges, times and training. I wish we could watch Bolt could race Carl Lewis or Jesse Owens or Jim Thorpe on an even plane of modern training and technology. But we can't. Enjoy the present, remember the past. Know that this bar and blog conversation can't ever really be decided. 
3. On display - part of the profession for the athlete is being on display, and none more than the Olympics. This includes way those aerodynamic suits don't leave much to the imagination (not that I noticed... someone else told me). But I'm actually talking about the emotional (which requires looking up at their faces). Honestly, would you like to have millions voyeurs watching you at your job? Imagine if your last job interview were not only broadcast live all over the world, but it was analyzed ad nauseum by business experts, journalists, and comedians for the remaining night. Especially the part when you didn't get the job and you sat on a park bench sobbing like that poor Korean fencer who was gypped out of a spot in the finals due to a strange clock malfunction. Or you got the job and you celebrated by hurdling park benches like that hulking German guy who got gold in discus with Mo Farah's victory expression pasted to your face. Sure - they knew what they were getting into, but they're still human. This struck me especially when a German high jumper got 4th place for something like the third straight tournament. There, for all the world to see, she jumped up an down, tears in her eyes, screaming "I always get 4th! Always 4th! Always 4th" That hissy fit of raw frustration reminded  me of my own pathetic hissy fits, behind closed doors, usually alone or with someone who made a promise to God and me that includes the words "for worse." But I will say, come winter time, that I have a great pair of aerodynamic running tights. 
4. London - China's incredible, collectivist display at the Beijing opening ceremonies may have been astounding, but for whatever our many flaws, I much prefer the dynamic, multicultural West with its breathing room for movement, humor, song and spirit. Great vision, great games, and if I had money to spend (ha, hehhhhh....) I'd immediately do what your tourism offices is hoping I'd do. 

Not Athletic

From the moment my legs could kick, from the moment my fingers could touch the leather stitches and lacing of a ball, from the moment I could watch modern titans put on superhero costumes to reap points, touchdowns, goals, runs for their city, country or university, I have loved sports. My earliest audio memories include my father's voice, my mother's voice, my grandmother's voice and football commentator John Madden's voice. (if you don't know who that is, ask your American friend to imitate Madden's trademark "BOOM"! He would yell "BOOM" for touchdowns, good hits, good blocks, good runs and effective athletes foot fungus removal. "BOOM" is America's answer to "GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!!")

My dad took me to my first baseball game when I was just five - Chicago Cubs, Wrigley Field, standing room only, industrial stadium nachos, Cubs lost to the Mets. I dressed up like Washington Redskins' Quarterback Joe Theismann for Halloween. My walls were decorated with the likes of Michael Jordan, Charlie Ward and Gred Maddux, among other titans of my youth. Today I can straddle the Atlantic and rage and rejoice with the tides of European and American football. (to those who think one or the other is boring, then you need better cultural understanding: Americans like to hit things and need to take frequent breaks. Europeans think life is too complex for winners, losers and scoring opportunities.) With every major tournament my spine gets sparkly and my eyes get tingly (or maybe I overcooked the barbecue). Athletic feats! Matching uniforms! Philosophical arguments about meaningless things! Yes, from the very beginning, I could watch sports like a champion. Playing sports, however, was a different matter.

You see, the problem, the suffering, the shame, is that I was always awful at sports. Really awful. From the moment the first gentle grounder avoided my baseball glove and went through my legs because I was imagining dinosaurs sitting in the dugout, I tried to keep up, but never quite had that spark. My trophy case is full of participation trophies and the occasional coach's award for team spirit. I tried, but sports required an amount of concentration I could only give to stories and television, as well as a coordination that only existed in my muscular imagination. (My imagination needs no performance enhancing drugs)

Now, this never stopped me from useful childhood participation in team sports. But from the little leagues to pop warner, coaches recognized my deficiency. They would place me in positions that required the least amount of participation. In baseball, that meant left field, the part of the diamond where it was statistically unlikely for a ball to reach me. I'd stand there fantasizing about hitting home runs like Andre Dawson while my teammates fielded double plays. By the way, baseball's the worst for a non-athletic person. In all other sports, I could hide my inability in a cloud of dust, cleats and team activity. But when I came up to bat, all eyes were focused on my stance, my motion and my strength, and this knowledge hung on my mind like an ice brick. It's like every play is a penalty kick. My greatest triumph was whenever I was walked. "Good eye!" my coach would shout, encouragingly, after I trotted to first after not swinging through six pitches. Yes. My "good eye" (where did I leave my glasses?) and the knowledge that not swinging was my best chance at reaching first base.

When I played youth soccer, the coaches always had me play sweeper. Now, in Germany, sweeper is a hallowed position, but in American youth soccer, sweeper is where you put a slower person who doesn't have the hands or the attention span to play keeper. Essentially, I would stand in a defensive position and dream about dinosaurs attacking the neighboring parking lot, and if the ball got close, I was supposed to kick it away from our goal. I remember actually kicking the thing, like, three times. The rest of my teammates would fight tooth and nail for goals and glory. If we won, I was overjoyed for our group effort. If we tied, I was relieved. If we lost, I wept. But no matter how the game ended, there were free soft drinks for everyone, which was by far the best part of youth team sports. I did score a goal, once, when I was seven years old. My coach let me take a penalty kick, probably to fulfill some contractual obligation to have everyone touch the ball at least once. Without any particular strategy in mind, I kicked the ball straight ahead as hard as I could, and the keeper was kind enough to had been standing somewhere else. I was ecstatic, and my father, to his eternal credit my biggest fan wherever I went, erupted in a triumphant scream like I had just struck out Willie Mays.

It's a horrible thing for a boy to be bad at sports. It's like a fish being bad at swimming. It's like a calculator being bad at math. It is psychologically and spiritually important for boys to test their speed, strength, agility and endurance against one another, and to overcome - to triumph. Sure, there are other talents out there, but none so primal as athletic prowess. For such amazing feats, the athletic boys received respect, honor, swoons and early first kisses. I would play in the playground and in the large backyards of Virginia, hoping desperately that at some point, mind and body would kick in to find me home-running, slam-dunking, last-second-diving-catch-for-a-touchdown-celebrating like all the other neighborhood boys, for whom these things just clicked like the button of an old-fashioned coke machine. Instead, I was the easy out, the last pick, the "everybody go long except you" guy.

I kept trying though, and in high school, I ran cross country - a sport that required zero coordination and that valued camaraderie among under-nourished high school kids above talent. A sport for the weirdoes, where I was a four year junior varsity member and a winner of the coach's team spirit award. And I still run today, for fitness and vanity. Fitness, because I want to live a long and comfortable life, and vanity, because I want to give my wife a reason to look up from her iPad whenever I walk to the shower. It's for those reasons that this past Saturday, participated in my first public sports event since my cross country days. I ran the Plochingen 5K.

Saturday was brutally hot. Now, I'm from Florida, and Florida is brutally hot, but Florida is at least decent enough to have a violent thunderstorm every afternoon to cool things off. On Saturday, every air particle hung over the pavement like it was in suspended animation. Every speck of dust, every piece of pollen, every smudge of pollution stuck to the the inside of your lung like old rice in a pot.

But we persevered! My goal was 25 minutes, and in the face of rainforest conditions between three-story houses and the occasional friendly man with a garden hose, I reached it! Crossing the finish line, I tore off my shirt and flexed my muscles like Mario Balotelli, except that my body hair to muscle ratio is much higher than his. Ok, actually I kept my shirt on and walked like a drunk in an obstacle course towards the water station. My wife cheered (we even had our own WAG section!) and my daughter cried (mainly because of the weather). Ok, so a girl overtook me on the last lap. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I reached my goal and I had fun. Besides, everybody deserves a victory dance.

Best Case/Worst Case -- Florida State II

My traditional best case/worst case post about my Alma Mater is a little late, mainly due to a labor dispute between writers and editors. But it is that time of the year where we can escape the realities of war, economic difficulties, professional productivity, civic obligations, family life, personal health, religious ritual and academic study to focus on one thing: college football. Thus, it's my honor and my duty to contribute. Just like last year (and with the appropriate apologies to the experts), I will examine the best case and worst case scenarios for the Florida State football team.

Best Case:

Unfortunately, the Seminoles have already passed up their opportunity to achieve best case. Yes, they trounced Louisiana-Monroe, their week 1 cream puff, 34-0, (hey, if you schedule Oklahoma, you can justify playing cream puffs. Not that that helped us last year...), but that was not best case. That was, at best, barely-meets-expectations case. Best case is when you commit no turnovers, have no need to punt, score a touchdown on every drive and not allow a single first down. The minimum score for a best case game is 98-0. So, for the remainder of the season, the best case scenario would be a series of 98-0 shellackings, with extra touchdowns scored on in-state rivals. By the time the ACC Championship comes around, the team is playing so divine that Florida State's players, coaches, professors, students and alumni all reach a light-producing higher plane, producing blessing, peace and justice the world over.

Worst Case:
The worst case scenario is quite the opposite. In this nightmarish dimension, the Florida State Seminoles, starting next week, fail to gain a single yard, much less first down, field goal, touchdown or safety. The defense allows the opposing running backs to pass through their tackles like Shadowcat, giving up 98 points per game plus extra touchdowns against in-state rivals. The horrendous performance on the field causes the team to literally implode into a black hole, engorging all matter and light into the spot in space where Doak Campbell Stadium once stood. Perhaps some of us might have escaped had we not cut the Space Shuttle program. As it is, the only ones who can flee the earth are the astronauts in the International Space Station, a billionaire Russian oligarch and three cocktail waitresses from the Russian's favorite St. Petersburg night club. Not that any could make it far, anyway....

Prediction: Somewhere in between. Happy football watching!

Kicking It With the Bundesliga

After waiting at least a month and a half, German soccer is back! That's right, as I write this, defending champions Dortmund are trying to score goals against Hamburg in the opening game of the Bundesliga season (updated - Dortmund dominated 3:1). Now, you might be thinking, why should I care about the Bundesliga? Your thoughts could run something along the line of "wait, aren't the sexiest soccer teams and most tabloid-ready stars in England and Spain?" Or you might be thinking, "aren't I an American, programmed to think that any sport without hitting, either people hitting each other or people hitting a ball with a blunt object, is uncivilized?"

Well, let me make a few points in favor of the Bundesliga before giving you a whistle-stop tour of the league. I've already argued in favor of soccer in general, so let me say that I like hard, clean hits that don't lead from the helmet as much as the next guy, but there's a reason the rest of the world likes soccer. As for the Bundesliga itself, yes, it does lack the star power of the English and Spanish leagues (and Italian, depending on the year), but I would argue (admitting my strong German bias) that it's the most interesting major soccer league. First, there have been four different champions in the past five years. In England, Spain and Italy, you really only have two to choose from. Yes, Bayern Munich is a perennial frontrunner, but what exciting league doesn't have that? Besides, I get the impression that in England in particular, folks (or at least the media) are more interested in the running soap opera of the business of soccer than the game itself. Oh, and one more thing. As ESPN's Uli Hesse (the best Bundesliga commentary in English and one of my favorite sports columnist all around) explains at the end of every season, the Bundesliga teams score more goals per game than any other important league.

Ok, so now that you're convinced, here are some teams to keep an eye on (Fair warning, I will be mixing sports analogies and metaphors to help an American reader understand the league):

1. Borussia Dortmund: The defending champs are one of the most sympathetic and beloved teams in Germany. The teams from the "Ruhrgebiet," mining and industry cities in northwest Germany, are where many of the traditional soccer teams and "real" fans reside, and Dortmund is their flagship. The Ruhrgebiet is what the Great Lakes region is to the NFL, and Dortmund, wearing black and gold, traditional success and national sympathy are Germany's Pittsburgh Steelers. They have two flaws. Last year, they were terrible at penalty kicks, which could come back to bite them in international competition (the top three, this year, four, teams go to the Champions League and compete against other European teams), and their poc-a-dot uniforms were clearly the results of a Middle School art project.
   
2. Schalke 04: Schalke, another great Ruhrgebiet team from the city of Gelsenkirchen, is Dortmund's arch rival. Their cities are so close together, and the rivalry is one of the best in the world's (think Army-Navy, Chicago-Green Bay, Giants-Dodgers before California). Unlike their enemy, Schalke has never managed to win a Bundesliga title. Their biggest success was winning the UEFA cup a long time ago, which is like saying your college won the NIT in the 90s. This run of almost-success makes them the pre-1994 Boston Red Sox of the Bundesliga. They had a rough time of it last year, but did win the German cup and were decent in the Champions league before getting knocked around by Manchester United. At the end of the season, after despondently watching Dortmund hoist the Bundesliga trophy (which would make a great tray to serve deviled eggs), they lost their world-class and German #1 goalkeeper Manuel Neuer to the following team.
3. FC Bayern Munich. Bayern buys superstar soccer players, hogs media attention, considers 2nd place a bad season and has won more Bundesliga titles than any other team. In this, they embody the collective spirit of the Yankees, Cowboys, Lakers and Fighting Irish. So many Germans hate them, yet walk around a random German town on any given day and you'll see about a dozen Bayern jerseys. After their disastrous 3rd place finish last year (the year before, they won the Bundesliga, the German cup, and lost to Inter Milan in the Champions League final) they bought a new coach and several new superstars to even out their already eye-popping line up. If you watched the World Cup, where the Germans ran circles around every non-Spanish team they faced (ok, they fell asleep against Serbia, but that didn't matter in the end), than you've seen most of what Bayern has to offer, including the wonderfully named Bastian Schweinsteiger and the young starlet Thomas Mueller. Their foreign star-power is great as well - in the rare occasion that both stars are healthy, the Frenchman Frank Ribery and the Dutchman Arjen Robben (the World Cup's worst flopper, but a spectacular footballer nonetheless) make perhaps the most dangerous winger combination in the world.
   
4. VFL Wolfsburg: I gave the English a hard time for their soap opera approach to soccer, but Wolfsburg coach Felix Magath is Germany's guilty pleasure. Whether getting fired, getting rehired, winning championships or fighting with players, the former Bayern and Schalke coach turns heads like car accident. The sports how I watched last night gave un-fancied Wolfsburg much more attention than it deserved simply because everyone wants to see what Magath will do next.
   
5. Hamburger SV: Hamburg is one of the oldest, traditional and beloved soccer teams in Germany. So much so, that some post-Christian, sports-crazy fans took the next logical step: they built a cemetery for soccer fans. They were mediocre last season and are currently getting thumped by Dortmund, so their fans might want to consider dying during a season when they can afford some better players (and reconsidering their priorities in general).
   
6. Hannover 96: Hannover is rarely a good team, but they were last season's big surprise with a 4th place finish. Also, American fans should pay attention, because they are captained by Steve Cherundolo, who, evidently, is the only American outside defender capable of taking on a Mexican striker (prove me wrong, Klinsi).
7. Baden vs. Wuerttemberg: Ok, I'm in a bit of a bind as to who I should root for. You see, soccer is angry regionalism in Germany, and the big rivalries are often between different tribes of Germany. I was introduced to the Bundesliga in Freiburg, Germany's answer to Portland, in the solar-powered stadium of this rarely-good but scrappy and appealing team. Freiburg is in the region called Baden, where the ancient Badische tribe of Germans live. However, I married a Swabian, and currently live in the area of VfB Stuttgart - a traditional club who won the Bundesliga several years ago. The Swabians are the Badens' arch-rival tribe, and Freiburg and Stuttgart are rival teams. So, Freiburg is my first love, but I'm surrounded by VfB fever, and hope to get to a game or two this season. I'd like to root for both, but that's like rooting for both Florida State and that team Tim Tebow used to play for (name escapes me...). Thoughts? I can't serve two masters, but can I root for two rival Bundesliga teams?
   

Klinsmann and Bradley

The U.S Men's National Team got their (Ger)man. Juergen Klinsmann, Germany's successful player who led Germany to the 1990 World Cup and 1996 European title, and who, as a coach, led an un-fancied German side to a 3rd-place finish in 2006. The Summer of 2006 is fondly remembered here as a "summer fairy tale," and Klinsmann quit while he was ahead. Given he lives in California and understands American soccer, the U.S. has had him in his sites ever since.

The value of Klinsmann is obvious. He already has one successful World Cup run with much higher stakes (his own soccer-mad country on his home soil), and his prefers fun, attacking-style soccer. Success + Fun, throw in a little celebrity, and you get a great hire!

However, living in Germany, the land of skepticism, has taught me to view every situation with a critical eye (even if it is undeserving). Is Klinsmann the best man for the job? He's an exciting personality and was an excellent player. But many here think the brain behind the 2006 run was current German national coach Jogi Loew, who was Klinsmann's assistant before his promotion and has kept Germany's run of (alas, title-less) success going ever since. Meanwhile, Klinsmann's last coaching gig at Bayern Munich lasted just over half of the 2008-09 season. During his tenure, he brought in Buddha statues and wellness activities into the Munich training facilities without rallying Bayern's superstars to their expected success. After taking a drubbing from Barcelona to crash out of the Champions League competition, Bayern sent Klinsmann his marching orders and hired a replacement to pick up the pieces.

So, can Klinsmann coach the U.S. to success (at least a World Cup quarterfinal) without Loew? Also, it seems like the U.S. has a similar personnel to what Bayern had in the Klinsmann era. They just don't have the defensive horses to play attacking style soccer. Hey could be the spark we need for to go to the next level (World Cup semi-finals), but for these reasons, my enthusiasm is tempered.

I'm now going to do something that will probably expose me as "not a real fan" or a soccer doofus. I'm going to offer a defense of Bob Bradley. Sam's Army and the most rabid of U.S. soccer fans are howling with glee after Bob Bradley's sacking. They've wanted his hairless head ever since he had the temerity to start his son (never mind that Michael Bradley has been one of the consistent and reliable players over the last few years) or that, though he coached the team to an iconic win over Spain in the confederations cup, they blew a 2:0 lead to Brazil in the final (just the five-time World Champion/definition of a soccer country Brazil). Or maybe it was, after dramatically winning their group, the U.S. lost to Ghana in the round of 16 (never mind that Ghana was an excellent team playing a home game who literally got robbed of a spot in the semifinal). Or maybe it was that the U.S. got plastered by Mexico in the Gold Cup a few weeks ago (never mind that, after blowing it against Panama in the opening round, Bradley made all the right moves to get to the final, and that Mexico could be called the most-improved national team of the year).

Bradley's time may have been up, but I've always liked him, and I'm sad to see him go. He worked hard and held his head up, always knowing he was never the U.S. soccer federation's first choice. No, he did not reach the quarterfinal, and yes, Mexico is now #1 in North America (though I suspect this has more to do with the rise of some Manchester United quality strikers at El Tri and America's defensive deterioration than coaching competency on either side), and under his leadership, the U.S. boxed above his weight so much that I wonder if he buckled under the expectation he helped create. Maybe it didn't help him that, as ESPN Leandar Schaerlackens points out, he never went out of his way to charm the media or the public, but that's one of the reasons I liked him. I find it refreshing when someone, especially a public someone, doesn't feel the need to be a salesman.

But, whatever your opinion of the Bob Bradley, Klinsmann is the now the man, and I hope my skepticism is wrong, unfounded and just a result of living just East of the Rhine. I can only wish Coach Klinsmann well, and that he brings our boys to the next level of the beautiful game.

Watch the Women's World Cup

You thought it was all over. You thought that when Spain finally hoisted the men's World Cup trophy last year, that the soccer proselytizers would disappear back into the cornfields and you could move on to something more American, like arguing about whether an entire collegiate sports program should be punished if their star quarterback sells an autographed jersey (if the school in question is your rival school, the answer is "of course, the rules are the rules and we must defend the integrity of college football." If the school in question is your own, the answer is a diatribe about the injustices and hypocrisies of college football and why these athletes should be played, not to mention how your rival school manages to get away with every cheat under the sun).

Nope. I'm back with a vengeance, following up last year's World Cup sermon with an even more demanding admonishment: Watch the Women's World Cup. Yes, it started just last night over here in Germany, where the hosts defeated Canada 2:1 and France eaked out a 1:0 win over Nigeria.

The last time I really sat down to watch women's soccer was an Olympic Gold Medal game between the U.S. and Brazil. The U.S. was full of tactical smarts and the experience of those heroes who won the World Cup on our home soil in 1999. The Brazilians were true up-and-coming talents, playing with the same flair and athleticism for which their male compatriots are known. Eventually experience trumped athleticism and the U.S. pulled it out in a thriller. Every moment was saturated with excitement and passion: sport at its finest.

Soccer is a beautiful game, and these ladies play beautiful soccer. No, it won't match the world-uniting passion of the last year's World Cup, but here in Germany, as in the U.S. in '99, the stadiums are sold out, the fans are ready to cheer, and it looks to be a great tourney. And, from an American perspective, we actually have a shot at winning this one (we've won two, as indicated by the stars on their uniforms). Defending champs and hosts Germany are probably the favorite, with talented Brazil and U.S. teams not far behind. Dark horses include France, Norway and Sweden.

One more reason to watch it: I have a daughter. She's probably too young to pick up on it just yet, but I'll have her in the room with me anyway. I'm teaching her to kick her fluffy little toy ball. She may very well inherit my overall lack of athletic prowess, but I hope she grows up to know that sports, competition, physical training, teamwork, winning and losing are all good things. These are all things worth experiencing and worth celebrating. I hope she won't buy into the notion, still common here, even though Germany is hosting, that soccer is a men only obsession. Mia Hamm, the U.S.'s best all-time player, always said that a primary motivation to play was to inspire little girls, and she seems to me a better inspiration than so many of the women or men who make it on our television screens. My daughter is a little girl with little legs, but underneath her curly hair lie budding dreams waiting to bloom. If those dreams include kicking a black and white ball, then may she be inspired anew every four years.

In the meantime, pop open a bottle of German beer and turn on ESPN. It's about to start.

Football Teams Should Be Named After Local Industries

Rick Reilly points out that the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers, who (you read it here first) will play each other in the Superbowl this evening, are the only two remaining NFL teams named for local industries. Way to support the American worker, AFC and NFC champions! This is the sort of boost the American economy needs. In fact, I think other teams should follow suit and re-name themselves after their local industries. Here are some suggestions:

1. Houston used to be the Oilers, before the Oilers became the Titans and moved to Tennessee and the Texans took over in Houston. Changing the Texans to the Oilers, and bringing back the ketchup on pail-blue uniforms would be a start.
2. Speaking of Tennessee, it is nowhere near Greece or their mythology, so Titans won't cut it. Tennessee is known for the music industry, so here are some ideas: The Banjo Pickers; The Record Producers; The Elvises; The Partons; The Tennessee Twang
3. Wait, aren't the Cowboys a local industry in Dallas? Maybe I'm wrong...
4. Piracy is no longer a thriving occupation in the Tampa Bay, moving to Somalia in this era of globalization. As the church of Scientology has bought up most of the Clearwater area, one idea would be to change the Tampa Bay Buccaneers to the Fightin' Hollywood Stars. This works especially well as LA no longer has an area football team.
5. Atlanta is known for Coca Cola, not for Falcons. So let's change their name to the Secret Formulas. Or the Corn Syrupers.
   
6. The Bay Area is home to the new engine of our economy, the tech industry. So change the 49ers or the Raiders (again, piracy has long been outsourced) to the Techies. Or the Red Bull Consumers.
   
7. Detroit already has a car-themed basketball team, but the Lions could still change their name to the SUVs, or the Engines, or the Hummers (please add your joke about them not lasting as long as a Japanese football team here).
8. New York has two teams. The Giants should represent the beleaguered finance industry. They could be the Financiers or the Hedge Funders. New York Jets could change their name to the New York Hipsters, representing that other great NY industry, and attract players who are "over" the whole sports thing and want to show you their vinyl collection.
   
9. My local team, the Washington Redskins, has plenty of options. The Presidents, the Senators (once Washington's baseball team), the Congressman, the Justices, the Battlin' Bureaucrats, The Military Industrial Complexers, the Lobbyists, the Protesters. Perhaps the Kansas City Chiefs could move to the D.C. area and change their names to the Commanders and Chiefs...

After what local industry would you name your local team?

As a Bears fan who thinks Troy P. (sorry, didn't want to look up the spelling) has amazing hair, let me say, Go Steelers!

Best/Worst Case -- Florida State

The nation rejoices - college football is on the television, on the radio, and on the hats, polos and jerseys everywhere the eye can see! And, of course, it's all over this here Internet thing I get to write on.

So, in the spirit of ESPN and 24-hour sports coverage (and with apologies to my favorite sports blogger), I present to you the best case and worse case scenario for my alma mater's 2010 college football season.

BEST CASE

Florida State University roars out of the gates with an amazing upset of Oklahoma, and right on your humble blogger's birthday to boot! From there, the Noles demolish the ACC competition, humiliate the out of conferences foes and the in-state rivals (including a last second, upright-splitting field goal to send Miami packing) and whup up on my father's alma mater in the ACC championship. Christian Ponder, after claiming the Heisman Trophy, delivers a tearful acceptance speech so good that it resolves the Israel/Palestine conflict, and all nations, from rogue states to democracies, beat their nuclear weapons into plough shares (no accidents take place). After crushing a resurgent Notre Dame in the BCS championship, all of the nation's top recruits reject their previous commitments and clamor for Tallahassee, while the rest of the nation's elite programs can only watch, pray and fight over the remaining spoils.

The great FSU dynasty ensues, taking home championship after championship. Their success makes them so beloved, that they leave the Atlantic Coast Conference and sign an exclusive television contract with NBC (which decides not to renew its contract with the ailing Fighting Irish). Not to be outdone, ESPN pays Florida State University hundreds of millions of dollars for "College Game Day" to be broadcast live from Doak Campbell Stadium every week (they change their theme song to "We're Coming To Your City - if you live in Tallahassee").

Meanwhile, all the extra sports revenue swells the endowment, attracting the best faculty and students for every conceivable field. Academic excellence increases exponentially and within five years (and five BCS championships), Florida State is considered the Harvard of the south. After five more years of success (and five more championships), Harvard is the consensus Florida State of the north. Academic flourishing trickles into every aspect of life, and along with sport and learning, art, business and authentic Christian spirituality thrive, from Tallahassee, to Florida, to the United States and to the world.

WORST CASE

Florida State is humiliated on opening day (tomorrow) with a last-second, loss to Samford, thanks to a missed field goal in the closing seconds that sails wide right. From there, the rest of the season goes down the toilet, with each loss more humiliating. All of FSU's top recruits end up in the hospital or in jail, and the remaining players desperately try to transfer to Florida International University. Coach Jimbo Fisher is fired in shame and takes a job cleaning Renegade's stables.

Bowl-less, winless and shamed, Florida State is kicked out of the Atlantic Coast Conference and demoted through the ranks of college football, where, after five years and five goose-egg season, the Noles find passing success at club flag football level. Desperate Florida State athletic officials waste all sorts of money trying to secure coaches and television contracts, but to no avail, and other university sports suffer. The athletic demise starts a rot which infects the school academically, as department after department lose faculty and quality students. This phenomenon prompts U.S. News and World Report to create a "Just Say No" list of national universities, with FSU ranked at the top every year.

Meanwhile, the combined forces of industry, government and Mordor turn a now impoversihed Tallahassee into a dark, post-apocalyptic city, which pollutes the Gulf of Mexico more than any BP oil spill ever could. The resulting filth hastens the effects of Global Warming. The Polar Ice Caps melt, and the state of Florida sinks into the sea, prompting residents to flee to Kentucky. The environmental and humanitarian calamity causes all countries to go to war with one another over scarce resources, starting when Finland invades Sweden. In the process, all forms of art, culture and beauty vanish and are forgotten, and once again, every human being has only one goal: survival.

PREDICTION:

Somewhere in between. Happy football watching, everybody!

Actually, the Ties Don't Bother Me

When many Europeans watch American football, they see a bunch of crass, overdressed Americans run into each other; someone carries or throws an oddly-shaped ball somewhere; and then for some reason, play stops, and minutes could go by without any real action. Wash, rinse, repeat. For them, it's the very definition of a boring sport.

I try to explain that for many Americans, myself included, the padded men look like modern knights. The hitting is part of the fun, and all the stopping is really just re-loading for a multitude of possibilities and plays. One of the best parts of football is that more things can actually happen than any other sport - more ways of progress, regress, offense, defense and scoring. Football is cerebral as chess and as physical as rugby, and the moves made by some of those specialist ball carriers rival Messi at his most beautiful. But, for anyone choosing to remain rationally ignorant about another country's sport, rational explanation is rarely welcome.

The same, of course, goes for Americans watching soccer. As more of us travel, as more of us grew up playing, more of us are buying into it. But the prickly reaction so many of my fellow yanks have to the sport every four years is curious (and sometimes extreme). I get not liking it. I'm not a figure skating fan myself. But I don't feel the need to go to the barricade and defend myself against those who do.

One of the thing that really twists the collective undies of Americans everywhere are ties. Ties happen in soccer, and quite often, especially compared to American sports. The marketers of U.S. sports have tried to destroy the tie everywhere it goes. Even in the NHL, where there used to be ties during normal league play, the powers that be switched hockey league play to golden-goal overtime followed by penalty shots, even though no team would be knocked out of a tournament. Don't get me wrong, I love the drama of these moments, but I wonder if this manufactures a sort of "drama-inflation" - couldn't we save it all for the playoffs?

Ties are part of soccer group stages and soccer league-play. It allows one more possibility for an outcome (I'm a strong P on the MBTI and lover of possibilities). It allows teams to stay alive and be more competitive, and this is a good thing in a long tournament where everyone plays everyone in their group.

No one is satisfied after a tie, of course. But, the tournament, the league, the competition is not over yet, and for those of us who can take a long view, it is simply part of the race. There will be a winner, eventually, and ties aren't forever. As we Americans are now painfully aware, the World Cup has entered in the knock-out stages, complete with overtimes and penalty kicks to decide who goes on. Don't worry friends, there will be one winner in the end.

There are things I would change about the World Cup. I wish there were a more scientific (dare I say, computerized) way of determining stoppage time, and that everyone would know exactly how many seconds there are left in a game. Soccer would benefit from an equivalent of basketball's buzzer-beater. And they should allow for more than three substitutes (I would double it to six). When I made this suggestion to my wife, she retorted, as perhaps many purists would retort, that soccer is a sport of endurance and more substitutes would undermine this. True, but one of the reasons play quality can be bad at the World Cup is the professionals are simply tired after long seasons (particularly the English premier league), and fresh legs would move things along. Besides, it would have the added benefit of giving more young men chance to represent their country on the world's greatest stage. One more suggestion - perhaps there would be less dives and better calls if they simply added more refs.

But I wouldn't change the ties. They're just one of the many possibilities that keep us watching.

Watch the World Cup

Paris, France: 1998. Two weeks in the City of Light, assisting a group of college students telling other students about Jesus. I attempted to play soccer once. The French guys must have kicked soccer balls in their cribs. It was embarrassing, and I will never do it again (at least in France). But that summer, I learned to watch soccer.

12 years ago, France hosted the World Cup. When they won, outclassing an exceptional Brazilian side in the final, the city erupted into the biggest street party since the Allies liberated Paris. I had a foretaste in Italy, where every Italian soccer victory turned the streets of Bologna into a scooter derby covered with red, white and green flags. I was in Germany in 2002, where both the Germans and their sizable Turkish minority had near daily reasons to celebrate - they finished second and third, respectively. But that '98 victory, in Paris, for France - nothing short of heaven will beat that spontaneous burst of joy, smiles, screams and fire-crackers.

At the time, I did not know that France featured the great Zidane, France's Michael Jordan, up there with Pele and Maradonna as one of soccer's all time greats. I had a vague association with Brazil and the great striker Ronaldo, who currently owns the record for most World Cup goals. But sitting between sweaty, intense continentals, staring at large screens, I saw why soccer is the beautiful game.

Yes, to American eyes, the field can seem needlessly big, with too much time in the middle, not enough time attacking the goal. Yes, the goals are infrequent. But watch those Zindane videos again. Good passing, good soccer play is skillful, beautiful, and, once you know what to look for, enchanting. As to the infrequent goals, I've never watched a sport where a single score is so special. It takes work, and when it finally happens, the celebration is infectious, and looks something like this.

Don't get me wrong - I'm thankful for American sports. I remain a huge college football fan, and I love me some baseball and basketball too. (Side joke - I had a baseball coach that once referred to soccer as "Communist Kickball," and whenever we made a mistake would say, "why don't you go kick black and white ball around!") I watch them enough that whatever soccer's flaws - the potential for a boring game, athletes behaving poorly - they certainly exist in other sports.

So, in ten days (or less!) find your European or South American or African friends. Go to an international sports bar open in the Middle of the day. Order a beer from the one of the countries on the flat-screen. Put away your biases, open your mind, put on your red white and blue (yes, America, our boys are in the tournament and favored to go to the second round. We play England a week from Saturday), and let yourself be mesmerized.

The End of the Season FSU-UF Game Should Remain There

According to one of my favorite sports bloggers, FSU's hot new coach, Jimbo Fisher, would like to play Florida for the first game of the season instead of the traditional final game. Why? As an FSU alum and an avid Seminole fan, I was relieved to read that UF officials nixed the idea.

Steve Spurrier used to say the same thing - he thought it would be better for all parties involved to switch the FSU-UF with the Tennessee-UF game, because there was too much pressure to go into the state-rivalry with everything a potential national title line. Never understood that logic. How would replacing it with another rivalry game that could decide the SEC East take pressure away?

In any case, no matter who it's coming from, it's a bad idea. College football, like all good entertainment, is about anticipation. It's that date circled on the Calendar, the end of November, when the weather in Florida is perfect for a football game. There is no reason good enough to get "the one we've been waiting for" out of the way. Heck, I think the FSU-Miami game should stay mid-October.

By all means, make the first weeks exciting. Travel to Oklahoma to take on a perennial power (as we do this year), take on another vaunted SEC team in the Georgia Dome. I am all for exciting early-season games. USC and Ohio State did us all a favor by playing each other early for two years straight, and more teams need the courage to do this. But the best part of college football is the deep traditional rivalries. Michigan-Ohio State. Army-Navy. FSU-UF, end of the season, best for last.

I stand corrected

It pains me to see them win, but congratulations Miami. I was complaining to my colleague as to how awful these Noles-Canes Labor Day games have been. This was an amazing game.

Embarrassing

I know she was on the swim-team in high school, but my 6-month pregnant wife swam faster than me yesterday. Maybe she was wearing one of those confounded new swimsuits the Germans wore at internationals...

Maybe un till should have a logo

There’s a beautiful simplicity to a good logo. Or, for that matter, call it a brand or a seal. I like the thought of looking at a symbol and immediately seeing a story. They are open for interpretation, but powerful nonetheless. Our forbearers would see the seal from the king’s signet ring, or the hide-burns of a particular cowboy, and images, weight and emotion would meet you. These days, mighty corporations have mastered the power of the seal. You know you made it as a company when your company name does not even need to appear on the logo. Think of the Nike Swoosh on Cristiano Ronaldo’s cleats, or the glowing apple cutout on the other side of my screen.

Perhaps my favorite prominent display of brands is sports logos. They represent not just a franchise but also a city, a university or an attitude.  The best part is that it’s usually a combination of letters and colors that get people riled up. A white “n” and “y” overlapping a navy blue field makes a statement. In our civilized age where we celebrate our diversity and accept everyone else as fellow citizens, sports remain an outlet for our tribal tendencies. We wear our colors and paint our faces as cheer on our strongest champions as they wage battle against the tribe from another city.

Of course, the most prominent logo in the past months has been the Barack Obama “O.” The first time I saw it, I knew it was genius. It’s a modern day signet ring for the man who will be “the leader of the free world.” It inspires Obama’s emotions of change and hope without compromising patriotism and strength. Regardless of your politics, you’ve got to admire the marketing. The New York Times has a great interview with the man who created the “O.” I find particularly interesting his reflection on how they tried to avoid the candidate being “branded, in the sense of having an identity imposed on a candidate.”

Finally, I have to give a shout out to logos that start a conversation. My church has adopted what has been lovingly dubbed “the flaming pomegranate,” which Ben designed. I was living with him when he first drafted the pomegranate, and I saw it take several forms before there was a finished product. It is a less obvious brand then, say, a cross, or a more common church symbol such as a lion lying down with a lamb. However, I think this is a good thing. When people ask what it means, I get to explain how the pomegranate was an ancient church symbol for the Resurrection. Moreover, since a pomegranate has seemingly countless seeds packed in one fruit, it is also a symbol of church unity. Perhaps it is does not have the mass market potential as the “O” or the Swoosh, but in starting a conversation, it better helps fulfill the purpose of the church.

What do you think of logos? Do they “impose an identity” on the product/team/candidate? Do you have a favorite? 

Feel the Love

Now that Barack Obama has gained the presidency, the rest of the world (with the possible exception of Pakistan) likes us again. Even during our recent troubles, the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung made a list of reasons why the rest of the world can’t get enough of us. Since some of those who read these words are unable to read German, I’ll provide a list right here, in English, with my own commentaries (after all, it is my blog).

1.     Fashion

Okay, I don’t know why this is first, since Britain and Italy are more renown in this area. And, as any woman in my life would affirm, it’s not my forte, either. I’m told Sex in the City influences fashion and causes women to buy things. Hopefully the current financial crisis will promote savings instead. In any case, the world must like the way we, (well… some of us) dress.

2.     TV Series

My wife and are just finished up the 4^th season of Lost, and we are eagerly awaiting season 5. As a rule, I remain addicted to only one show at a time. The article sites West Wing, Frasier and Malcom in the Middle as some of their favorites. I can only speak to the second, which I like. 24 has kept my attention in the past, and Homer Simpson remains one of our biggest ambassadors.

3.     Rock Music

Amen, amen, amen. True, Great Britain has contributed almost as much (and thus more per-capita) to rock and roll. But in every American town, you can find the love affair between boy and guitar, producing beautiful music, much of which you will never hear. Today’s indy-rock scene is no longer what dominates top-40 radio, but scratch below the surface, and some amazing stuff is growing. Fresh grown rock was noticeably missing from Germany. The FAZ writer mentions Vampire Weekend as one of American rock’s current torch bearers. I’m going to recommend a couple of friends. For some good tunes, check out the Tortoise and the Hair, the Northernness and Andy Matchett. For good measure, the Oaks, are friends of friends, and are quite good as well.

4.     Love for children

Evidently, we treat our kids good here. We do produce some pretty good toys, although Denmark is home to Lego.

5.     Literature

A Nobel Prize judge recently said that no good literature is produced in America. The FAZ debunks this, citing Philip Roth and John Updike. For those of you who have not read him yet, I’m going to recommend Wendell Berry (though I don’t think he would approve of blogs).

6.     Film

Plenty of great indy movies have come from America, but Hollywood is king – and a huge ambassador to the world. As much as the artistic type in us may want to bash it, I’m sure we can all think of a star-studded Hollywood flick we love. I was in Germany when The Last Samurai came out. German critics blasted Tom Cruise’s film as un-historical, saying that its homage to the Samurai ideal would be like writing a film on church history based on the ideals of Christian love. Ok, I have to agree, The Last Samurai was a horrible film, but it does illustrate that Hollywood is often more about the ideal than about reality. Just like America. That may bristle at times, but it is not always unappealing.

7.     The Debating Culture

Interesting that the Germans would say this – they love a good debate, though these are often longer, more abstract affairs. However, the article pointed more to the comedy that came out of the debates – Stephen Colbert, Jon Stewart and Tina Fey. I have to say, our political satire is second-to-none.

8.     Universities

Okay, we do rock the top university lists. I did not go to an elite university, but they do look good on resumes. One thing that we have that many Europeans do not is the campus. Some of the best moments in college were sitting in the grass between brick buildings, playing guitar, reading and talking to those who disagreed with me.

9.     Friendliness

I’m from the south, and there is an appeal to the southern charm. However, I do find the unabashed honesty of the Germans (or even more so, the Chinese. They will honestly let you know if you’ve gained weight since they last saw you) is quite refreshing.

10. New York

Don’t get me wrong, New York is great. We hope to bus up there soon. But don’t let that be the only part of America you see. There’s so much more.

11. Basketball

I like basketball too, but I am homesick for the Michael Jordan era. Now, the most interesting part of the NBA for me is how international the sport is becoming. Indeed, probably the only reason it is mentioned in a German magazine is the rise of Dirk Nowinsky. If you want to try a truly American sport (ask any Canadian where basketball was invented), check out college football. I know the typical European complaints. They stop and every down, the action is not constant. True, but once the action gets started again, anything can happen: Hard hits, stunning displays of athleticism, and piles of bodies all over the field. Moreover, as one college football commentator said on a radio show, football is the only sport where every person is involved in every play. Blocks down the field effect how far a ball will travel. I was in Paris when France won the world cup. But I was also in Tallahassee in 2000 when the recount stopped for the Florida State-Florida game. FSU won, and the victory propelled us into the national title game. A college football rivalry in the south has an electricity not duplicated elsewhere.

12. Indian Summer

I think I lived in Florida too long for this one, and D.C. is not far enough north. Sounds nice though. 

Collectivity and Its Discontents

Last night, between saying our final farewells to those “go world” visa commercials, my wife and I sat in our hotel room and watched the closing ceremony from Beijing. Instead of watching the opening ceremonies, we had watched Batman: Dark Knight in the theater, and it seemed like everyone else, from students to colleagues to NBC broadcasters were gushing about how great it was.

The Olympics have been a joy to watch this year. Phelps & company produced enough drama and made me excited about non-league sports in a way I probably won’t be again, at least until I am schlepping my own kids to swim practice and track meets.

Before the Olympics began, David Brooks gave me some food for thought. Or, to write it better, he focused a swarming group of thoughts that I already had by putting words to them (writers I like tend to do this for me). Brooks writes that China is showcasing an alternative to the more individualistic American Dream. The great nation is presenting a vision for a people based on collectivity and harmony.

The closing ceremony, as well as the highlights of the opening ceremony that I managed to see, argued Brooks’ point for him. This astounding show proclaimed a unity to form that the best marching bands could only dream of. Thousands of drummers drummed at once with purpose and power. The dancers moved in grace, the colors were red, gold, beautiful and Chinese. There was no one star, even when China’s most celebrated gymnast flew to the top of the stadium to light the torch, he, dressed in red and gold, was one of many, among drummers and dancers. It was something different than the surprise appearance by Mohammed Ali in Atlanta twelve years ago. Parkinson’s or not, he stood out from us as “the greatest,” and we wanted to be like him, to talk his talk and put our fists where our mouths are. China, in contrast, beckoned, if not demanded us to admire the collective dance of a great, ancient people. Everyone drums, dances, knows their place, and the whole is more beautiful than any of us.

Community is in our lifeblood. We need each other for survival. It is deeply spiritual as well. One of the reasons I am a Christian is that Jesus offers a ministry of reconciliation, based on love of God and of each other. He beckons us to lay our own lives down, as he did, in so doing loving our creator with all we have and loving each other as we love ourselves.

These primal and spiritual urges add appeal to the narrative of collectivity and community. Indeed, ever since I moved to Washington, I have attended a church that is more liturgical than what I am used to, simply because liturgy celebrates community in ways many modern evangelical churches do not. Prayer is beautiful, but it is lovely when we say the same prayer, together, acknowledging that we all need God’s will to be done, on earth as it is in heaven. What could be more pleasing than being one people?

Of course, China is a massive and present-day illustration to the historical difficulty of community. What happens when someone does not wish to confirm to the norms of the community? The collective identity ends with this non-conformist. What if a Chinese person wishes to worship in a church that doesn’t parrot the state sponsored religion? What if he thinks the Chinese claim to the land of his religious heritage was unrightfully made?

I know people who have boycotted watching the Olympics in memory of such non-conformists. Collective identity loses its beauty to those who no longer desire to be part of it, worse so for those who find partaking of it impossible. Ironically, when societies attempt to smother these non-conformists, they either lose the collectivity, or make the society dangerous, brutal and un-livable (see North Korea).

There is much to criticize about American individualism. We do need each other, and we wannabe-cowboys would do well to learn it. However, community cannot be forced. Often, it must be endured; it must be allowed to change us to make us better so that we can truly reconcile to those around us. It takes time, patience and an often-unsavory amount of bearing with one another. A top-down enforced (violently or otherwise) collectivity, where there is only one drumbeat, is not a good alternative.

One part of the closing ceremonies stood out to me. To represent the transition of the Olympic games from Beijing to London, a double-decker bus appeared. Before western celebrities (David Beckham among them) ascending from the bus’ roof, out of the doors sprung a group of dancers, evidently representing London residents. They were different colors, skin colors and clothes colors. Even though there was chorography, they did not move in a way to celebrate mass collectivity. Rather, they crept, jumped, ran and crawled in ways that celebrated a loosened sort of freedom that was noticeably lacking from the remainder of the show. And that I found very appealing.

Ohne Finke, hab' wir keine Chance!

My favorite sports-writer is not a Chicago Tribune writer following the Bears or a Tallahassee reporter covering the Noles. It's ESPN Soccernet's Uli Hesse-Lichtenberger. Uli (I'm not going to re-write his last name) writes columns about the Bundesliga, so I'm already biased in his favor. But what makes him stand out above his colleagues is that he avoids the tabloid gossip issues that everyone else is stuck on. Everyone else can cover the sensations about whether Thierry Henry goes to Barcelona or whether Erikson will coach Manchester City. He finds fascinating stories within the historical context of soccer, which is a lot more interesting.

My favorite soccer team, by default, is SC Freiburg. I lived in Freiburg for two years, and both years they were in the Bunesliga. They have no superstars, but they played hard that first year and competed with the Bayerns and Werders of the league. However, the next year, they were terrible, finishing dead last and were relegated to the 2nd Bundesliga where they have been since. I saw two games, one a 2:0 dismantling of this year's Bundesliga champion VfB Stuttgart. It was one of the few bright spots of the season.

Well, now Uli is chronicling the rise and fall of Freiburg's legendary coach, Volker Finke, the most beloved Breisgau coach not named Loew. I remember being near the stadium after Freiburg got thumped by one of the league giants. Some fans grumbled about the coach, but many sang "ohne Finke hab' wir keine Chance!" Without Finke, we have no chance.

Anyway, part II of the series is here. Part I was a lot of background, not all of it necessary. Part III will be here soon.