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11月30日 OK, OK, so he scored a goal!Cristiano Ronaldo scored yesterday. I am grateful to him for contributing to United's huge advantage over Chelsea in goal difference--26 to the Blues' 17. I am, however, embittered because I just took him off one of my teams.
He's still the Nuke LaLoosh of the Premiership.
11月18日 Pretty is as pretty doesThose eyebrows! Those cheekbones! The perfectly bronzed hue of his skin!
What I wouldn't give to have a sit-down with Cristiano Ronaldo. We would have so much to chat about. Do you think I could ring him up and sweet-talk him into a lunch date?
Never fear, dear readers. The Guy has absolutely nothing to worry about. In fact, he knows better than anyone else on earth the true nature of my feelings about Manchester United's Portuguese pretty-boy.
Jealousy, for a start.
If Cristiano and I went out for a lunch & shopping date--just like with one of the girls--I would employ all of my female powers of persuasion in the hopes that he would give me what I'm really, really aching for: his stylist's telephone number.
His eyebrows are to die for. And what brand of blush does he use on those runway-model cheekbones? For that matter, I would beg him to tell me what brand of self-tanner or bronzer or whatever it is that he uses to give his skin that sun-kissed tinge that never fades even in a chill, sunless climate like Manchester's.
Then I would ask Cristiano if he learned that dazzling footwork in a jazz dance class. I myself prefer to stay in shape by playing tennis, lifting weights, and hitting the elliptical, but lots of fitness-minded ladies do enjoy aerobic and jazz dance classes. Whenever I see Ronaldo juking and feinting his way down the field--you know, just before he shoots the ball twenty feet or so above the goal--I wonder if he was tormented by the choice between a Broadway dancing career and the world of big-time European football. Did any of you see the live telecast of the Man United-Sheffield United match today on FSC? I don't think I've ever seen Ronaldo dance around the pitch the way he did this morning. No wonder he is so fit! He expends twice the energy of anyone else just fancy-footing the ball.
Now that I'm thinking about it, though, all those pretty moves that Cristiano tried to wow us with didn't have much of an impact on the game's outcome. He didn't score, which was remarkable. Near the end of the game, when Man Utd. were up 2-1 but victory was by no means certain, somebody--Giggs?--worked kind of hard to put the ball right smack dab at Ronaldo's feet. He was lonely there, too. Maybe that's why he quickly chipped the ball way over the net. Actually, young Cristiano didn't have such a super day on the field. There were a lot of dud passes, runs that came to nothing, and errant shots.
He looked awfully stylish, though.
At the end of the day, it didn't matter to the Red Devils that one of their eleven was on the field just to dress it up. Because they've got another young player who is decidedly not cover-boy material, yet whose pasty, podgy, jug-eared visage sets my heart aflutter whenever he gets near the ball. More importantly, Wayne Rooney strikes fear into the heart of the opponent's defenders--as well as their fans--because he seems to care about things like scoring, accurate passing and tackling more than pretty moves. I will admit that Rooney's temperment at times does have a bit too much in common with that of a poorly-trained pit bull...
And yet, when you're down 0-1 to a team that's teetering at the edge of the relegation zone, who do you want on your side? A talented young fop who's as shallow as the kiddie pool or a squat bulldog who fights hard for the two goals needed to win the game?
Me too.
11月16日 Small Man, Towering IntellectThe Brazil of the economics profession has passed away.
The Guy called this morning with sad news: Milton Friedman, winner of the 1976 Nobel Prize in economics, has died at the age of 94.
Interested readers can learn a great deal about Mr. Friedman from the Wikipedia link that I have provided. The entry under his name is a long one, as befits a career that spanned more than six decades. He is perhaps most famous for his role as the leading proponent of the so-called Chicago School of economics. The ideology of the Chicago School--which included not only economists, but professors from the business and law schools at the University of Chicago--had its origins in neoclassical economic theory. What's that all about? Only this:
Free-market capitalism, while not free of flaws, is the system that is most capable of allocating goods and services to their highest-valued uses. And when individuals enjoy the freedom to act in their own best interests, the entire economy benefits through sustained growth.
That's strong stuff, isn't it? There was never a shortage of people who disagreed with Milton Friedman about the consequences of laissez-faire economics. We all know just how heated political dialogues can become and how quickly they can devolve into playground-style name-calling. None of that deterred Mr. Friedman. He remained "on-message" for more than half a century, authoring numerous books, articles, newspaper columns, and starring in his own PBS television series, Free to Choose. He co-authored a book by the same name with his wife of nearly seventy years, Rose.
The study and practice of economics became increasingly specialized during Mr. Friedman's lifetime, rendering his own accomplishments even more impressive. Although he was awarded the 1976 Nobel Prize for his work on the consumption function, his reputation grew wildly for his work in monetary theory beginning in the 1960's. ("Inflation is everywhere and always a monetary phenomenon"). Mr. Friedman's extensive study of Federal Reserve behavior during the Great Depression (with co-author Anna Jacobson Schwartz), shed more light on the most vexing problem in American economic history than that of any other analyst. Although he utilized quantitative techniques in his work, the focus of his research was overwhelmingly pragmatic. He did not employ elegant mathematical models for their own sake and deplored those trends in the profession. Milton Friedman was a lifelong student of the economy because he wanted to unlock its mysteries and use them to improve the lives of the world's citizens.
Those who are tempted to dismiss Mr. Friedman's conclusions as those of a right-wing ideologue would do so in error. He was a self-described libertarian who consorted with Republicans as a matter of pragmatism. He often argued in favor of legalizing prostitution and the drug trade. In a delightful Wall Street Journal interview with Rose & Milton, The Romance of Economics, we learn of the venerable couple's disagreement on the war in Iraq. Milton was opposed to US aggression from the beginning, while Rose passionately defended the invasion. It was, she said, the first time in sixty-eight years of marriage that they had failed to find common ground on one of "the deep things."
On the campus of the University of Illinois (Champaign-Urbana), there's a monument called the Alma Mater. It bears this inscription: To thy happy children of the future, those of the past send greetings.
I found that message to be intriguing, if a bit sentimental. I remember walking by it with a friend one day when I was in grad school and it prompted me to ask her this: what good do economists do for the world? Why does economics matter? We concluded that the task of economists was to seek those policies that would deliver goods & services to consumers with a minimum of waste. Or something like that.
"Goods & Services" is a very broad term, indeed. I don't happen to believe that it's particularly noble to institute policies that enable someone like Paris Hilton to have access to an unbroken supply of cocktail dresses. On the other hand, are smoothly-functioning markets for food, housing, transportation, books, chocolate, and coffee worth fighting for? You bet they are. And there are more complicated market situations in areas critical to human welfare, such as education and health care, that desperately require the attention of clear-sighted and committed economists. Milton Friedman exemplified both of those qualities.
The role of economics in intellectual and political discourse has continued to expand in no small part because it was distinguished by the energy, relentless curiosity, probity, and formidable intellectual gifts of Milton Friedman. He bestowed, through the work of a lifetime, a gift to the world--a greater appreciation of why economics matters.
11月13日 Just another mirage, I fearI'm shuffling through the unforgiving sands of a Sahara-like state of mind these days. I long to discover an oasis that is rife with original, blog-worthy soccer thoughts. But I'm teased by one mirage after another...
This dry spell hasn't yet tempted me to abandon Soccer Orb, surely a testament to my fascination with the game. Several years ago I started another blog to fulfill a course requirement, but dropped it when the assignment was complete. I will confess to having begun two other blogs that each consist of precisely one post.
Is it possible that other human beings are not tormented by a love-hate relationship with writing? Of course it is true that many people hate the act of putting finger to keyboard. (I almost wrote "putting pen to paper." How quaint). But does anyone actually love it?
I suspect that people like Joyce Carol Oates, P.D. James, Salman Rushdie, Ruth Rendell, Richard Russo, Jeffrey Eugenides, Yann Martel, Ian McEwan, and Sharon Kay Penman view writing as the essential element of existence. They are probably out of sorts each morning until the moment when they sit down to begin spinning beautiful stories out of the same words that mere mortals use to write memos and grocery lists and blogs. And there are scores of less talented writers whose desire for self-expression is so intense that every spare minute is spent scribbling away at books, screenplays, and poems, all destined to remain unpublished.
I run hot and cold with writing. It's not so bad when I feel that I have something to say about the game, but this happens rarely. And when I am graced with a visit from Podaspheria, the things that strike me as noteworthy could rightfully be perceived as weird. Like inventing a Soccer Muse, for example.
The most significant obstacle to writing about soccer is my limited playing experience. High school gym class and a mercifully brief spell in an adult women's indoor rec league are no substitute for involvement as a real player or coach. It is obvious that I've no analytical underpinning with which to approach the game. This stands in contrast to tennis. I understand things like why it's easier to hit cross-court shots than down-the-line shots, why topspin is effective, and why there are fewer pure serve & volley players these days.
What did I learn about soccer from those brief minutes on the pitch? Let's see...making contact with the ball is even harder than it looks and it's an amazing workout.
I am drawn to the cultural aspects of soccer. And because I am writing from America my exposure to this culture is fairly limited. So my posts are merely observations that may or may not be convincing to those readers who have enjoyed more substantial contact with the sport.
End of disclaimer. Here goes...
Congratulations to the Houston Dynamo on their thrilling MLS Cup victory yesterday. The game was enjoyable mostly because I had no rooting interest in its outcome. Long ago I lived in New England, so at first I was pulling for them. Eventually, though, the presence of Dwayne De Rosario (eternal gratitude for that goal against Chelsea), Brian Ching (USMNT), and Kelly Gray (former Fire player) won me over. The drama of Ching's immediate answer to Taylor Twellman's late goal was compelling. And I discovered that penalty shootouts are much less irritating when they do not involve one of my own teams (Chicago Fire, Manchester United, USMNT, England). In fact, the shootout was rather entertaining.
Speaking of Man United, last weekend's victory was a relief. Last season the Red Devils lost both their matches with Blackburn, despite their disparate positions in the table. And one of those losses was of the humiliating 4-0 variety.
Always Look on the Bright Side of Life...
So Saturday's game at Blackburn was cause for some worry that United could lose its slim advantage over Chelsea.
United 1, Blackburn 0.
O'Shea sent up a long sweeping cross to Giggs on the left, who managed to angle it back perfectly to Louis Saha. Sorry Brad, but you've no chance against Saha at point-blank range.
Club loyalty trumps nationality. Aside: Brad Friedel, Blackburn's long-time keeper, is a Yank.
I am ever so pleased that Saha is a member of both my Fantasy League teams. But I am absolutely delighted that Chelsea's Didier Drogba--he of Saturday's hat-trick--is also a teammate on Kings Road Rangers & Susie's Banshees.
Am I saying that fantasy team loyalty trumps club loyalty? I don't think so. If Manchester United's most formidable competitors--Chelsea & Arsenal--must win, then I am entitled to salvage some meager satisfaction by stocking my teams with their players.
That's the essence of hedging, isn't it Steve?
11月7日 Soccer Orb Jinx?I must amend my previous post: Sir Alex vincit omnia...
except for South End.
Another amendment: I guess it's Southend. Whatever. 11月6日 Is That Latin?I've been thinking about who my all-time favorite Scotsman might be. I have decided that it's a toss-up between Sir Alex Ferguson and a self-described shy, homely bachelor who died in 1790. Sir Alex may not know it, but I've paid him a compliment of the highest order. I actually had a tear in my eye when I stood before Adam Smith's grave in Edinburgh.
The shower of accolades bestowed upon Sir Alex Ferguson began last week, but it is today that marks the twentieth anniversary of his appointment as manager of Manchester United. This tenure has been remarkable by any standard. In particular, United's achievements during the annus mirabilis of 1999 must be regarded as the ne plus ultra for professional sports clubs around the world.
Not that I have always seen eye-to-eye with Sir Alex. Most recently, I questioned his sanity--er, judgement--when Ruud van Nistelrooy was rendered persona non grata. I am certain that other observers will agree that Roy Keane--whose personal motto must surely be nemo me impune lacessit--remained in Sir Alex' graces for longer than was best for the team. And why was David Beckham dumped? Because Fergie couldn't stomach the influence of Posh Spice and the cult of celebrity that accompanied her to Manchester? Whatever.
I'm assuming that Sir Alex' accomplishments are well-known to anyone who happens upon this space. I must admit, however, that even I wasn't aware of the exact quantity of hardware that United had collected under his leadership: eight Premier League titles, five FA Cup titles, two League Cup titles, the UEFA Champions League title, UEFA Super Cup, UEFA Cup-Winners Cup, and an Intercontinental Cup. His competitive instincts are alive and well a full seven years after his magnum opus: the astonishing Treble Year of 1999 when Manchester United won the Premiership title, the FA Cup, and the Champions League. Today United sits at the top of the Premiership table three points clear of Chelsea.
Sir Alex vincit omnia.
United's gaffer hails from Glasgow, Scotland. Scots accents are difficult for the American ear to navigate. The Guy and I once overheard a group of people speaking a delightfully lilting yet mysterious language that was tantalizingly familiar. We asked them where they were from and were shocked to learn that they were Scots. They had been speaking English, in accents so different from ours that their speech was incomprehensible. I am reminded of this episode whenever Sir Alex is interviewed on Sky Sports. In fact, every time this happens I turn to The Guy and ask, "Is that Latin?"
Those of you who've seen a sweet little film called Rushmore will understand this reference. It's the story of a big-dreaming kid (Max, played by Jason Schwartzmann), who is a student at a tony prep school. Max becomes sort of a third wheel in a love triangle that includes a teacher and the father (Bill Murray at his soulfully zany best), of twin lunkhead classmates. When you see the film, you'll understand why those metaphors needed to be scrambled like that. Another classmate is an oversized Scots boy whose accent prompts Max to wonder "Is that Latin?"
Ave Sir Alex Ferguson!
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