Valencia CF - Inter Milan 0-0

Valencia CF - Inter Milan 0-0


I was let in on the secret of how this elimination round of the UEFA Champions League works. Two clubs play each other away and at home and the winner is decided either by wins or goal differentials. Valencia tied Inter Milan in Milan two weeks ago with a score of 2-2. This means that for last night’s game Milan had to either win or score at least two goals in another draw. If the game had ended in a 2-2 draw, then it would go into an over-time. If the over-time did not decide a winner then there would be a penalty shoot-out.

Barcelona needed to score at least two goals and beat Liverpool to advance to the quarter finals. They won 1-0 and were forced out of the tournament. Real Madrid plays Bayern Munich tonight in Germany.

Luckily I knew this before the game began last night or my stress level would have been even higher. It was pretty crazy around the stadium last night as you would imagine. There was an army of police on hand complete with a horse brigade. Last week the Coach for the Sevilla club was hit by a bottle someone had thrown from the stands so it isn’t like Spanish football is immune from the violence that has erupted elsewhere. I also learned that the reason for the small crowd in Milan two weeks ago for the first match between these teams was because Milan was only permitted to let in 35,000 fans. This was a precautionary measure because of fan violence in Italy.

The crowd hanging out in the Plaza del Valencia CF was well-behaved. There were perhaps 400 people all singing and screaming at the televisions. At times it seemed that this mob was making more noise than the crowd inside the stadium. It was a very harmless group for the most part. I was, however, keeping an eye on the dozen skinheads standing directly in front of me. A television reporter from Channel 9 was interrupted during his filming when the skinheads started chanting “periodista, terrorista” but that was about as rowdy as they got. Even skinheads respect Spanish football.

At the very end of the game a tussle broke out on the field between the players. It was getting a bit ugly and all I said to myself, “This is how a huge riot probably starts,” but the only aggression was on the field. I watched the game recap in a bar down the block and everyone got a big laugh watching one of the Valencia trainers running away from a Milan player. He’ll have to live with the shame for a long time. Remember, if you are going to do something incredibly cowardly, don’t do it in front of 53,000 and TV cameras.

Hype Quake

Hype Quake

Cue the song Also Spake Zarathustra from 2001: A Space Odyssey.

After that you can pipe in Flight of the Valkeries through the deafening sound system of your attack helicopters.

Run clip from early 1960’s Japanese monster movie of terrified villagers fleeing for their lives.

This is big, people, as big as it gets (at least in early March).

There can only be one. There will be no prisoners. No quarter will be requested and none given.

Perhaps you just crawled out from under a rock in some god forsaken cesspool section of the globe, where soccer daily newspapers don’t litter the tops of every bar in the city. Maybe where you live the television airwaves haven’t been bombarding you relentlessly for weeks on end about this bit of news. If you are to believe the hyperbole, this could be the greatest challenge to Valencian society in all of history—or at least this season. Tonight at 20:45 local, in Mestalla Stadium here in Valencia, Spain Valencia Club de Fútbol plays Football Club Internazionale Milano known as Inter. I don’t know about you but I know where I’ll be tonight.

I’ll be standing in the Plaza Valencia Club de Fútbol along with all of the other lose-oids who didn’t score a ticket for this deciding match in the UEFA (The Union of European Football Associations) Champions League playoffs. This is round 16 and the last time these two teams met in Milan it was a draw so one of the teams needs to win tonight. Don’t quote me on this because I haven’t verified it yet but I think that this means a penalty kick shootout at the end if the score is still tied after an overtime period is played. The winner advances to the quarter finals and the loser stays home, so to speak.

I have read about four newspaper accounts of the match so far today and they all have the same quotes from the same people. There don’t seem to be any articles geared towards dumb Americans who, although they have been here for over three months, still don’t understand the Byzantine world of European club soccer. I’m sure that I will know a lot more about this match tomorrow when it has all been decided. I just like watching the matches in the packed bars in my neighborhood.

I thoroughly buy into all of the hype surrounding this match because that is a lot more fun than just seeing it as two teams kicking a stupid ball back and forth. Two teams kicking around a ball isn’t much fun at all unless you believe that somehow the fate of Western Civilization lies in the balance. I went out and bought duct tape and plastic sheeting to seal up my apartment just like after 9/11 just in case the shit hits the fan after the game. Or maybe the shit will hit the fan DURING the game! I bet you didn’t consider that option mister “I’ve considered every option.” I have some stuff left over so why don’t I just seal you up in duct tape and plastic. I won’t put any tape over your eyes so you can still watch the game. OK, I’ll leave a little hole so you can breath…and drink beer.

Maybe tonight’s game isn’t going to signal the apocalypse but it seems the closest thing to it since I’ve been in Spain. What’s that you say? Barcelona is playing Liverpool tonight in another Champion’s League elimination match? Listen, if you are going to the store can you pick up some more beer? And get more duct tape and plastic sheeting. Make sure you wear clean underwear just I case something happens.

March is Better than February

March is Better than February


Life has become appreciably, even measurably better this past week. The warm weather has turned my apartment from a cold meat locker into an open and airy space that takes full advantage of the sunshine. My blood seems to have thinned out enough so that I can get back to my regular workout routine. It is difficult not to become overly-enthused about the weather when it is so unbelievably pleasant. About the only thing that I have to complain about, and it’s not such a big thing, is that Valencia seems to have turned into a free-fire zone like Baghdad or Beirut.

The annual Fallas festival has begun in Valencia which is one of the biggest in all of Europe. What this means is that all of the parents in Valencia seemed to have been locked up in prison somewhere leaving their children to run wild through the streets lighting off fireworks. Yesterday was a constant series of explosions throughout the day. The bombing terrified all of the poor little dogs here so in addition to the fireworks going off you had little dogs going off in barking fits all day long. Add a slight hangover to this mix and you come up with a pounding headache and an almost overriding urge to pour boiling off from your balcony on to the heads of the little shits blowing off strings of firecrackers. Unbelievably, no one else is annoyed by all of the racket. Everyone else just goes on about their day ignoring the deafening blasts. I just grin and bear it.

Today I promised someone that I would go with them to the Plaza de Ayuntamiento for the daily Mascletá. From what I have been told, this is also a bunch of explosions. How do you say “earplugs” in Spanish?

I came into the possession of a new double bed. I had to find a frame for it which I made out of an extremely sturdy pallet and a bit of hardware I bought at the Chinese Wal-Mart. I am very happy with how it turned out and it is as solid as an oak tree. I also picked up a few items to help organize things in my bedroom. It’s amazing how much I appreciate little stuff like this after what seems like living out of a suitcase since I left my apartment in Seattle back in September.

What I appreciate more than the new organization of my living space is the being comfortably warm after shivering for the past couple of months. I actually had to get out of bed last night to open my patio door to let some air in my room. I appreciate the fact that today is a school day and all of the little Valencian terrorists have their hands too full with books to set off ear-damaging explosions. I can’t even hear any dogs barking this morning. The explosive celebration in Valencia’s main square isn’t until two this afternoon so I have a few hours of peace.

Pics

Spanish country estate. I wish that I lived here.


You can almost see Africa.


If I hadn't been cycling today I would have gone to the beach.

Generations of Mediocrity or No-Name Brilliance

Generations of Mediocrity or No-Name Brilliance

Merit seldom plays a part in who our society decides to worship in the arena of popular culture. The only aspect of pop culture where merit is absolutely essential is sports. Ability is the only thing that matters on the playing field. If only this were true of our other forms of entertainment.

The people we worship the most, America’s answer to medieval royalty, are the handful of actors that inhabit or pollute the majority of the major films in America. They are the least vulnerable to the harsh reality of merit. They are also the most self-congratulatory group of folks you are ever likely to see walk along the red carpet. Only Hollywood is capable of taking a thoroughly mediocre film like The Departed, call it the best picture of the year, and have the rest of the world nod their heads in agreement.

Goodfellas was a movie worthy of such an accolade, maybe even Casino, but The Departed was just not a very good film. The best picture Oscar is rarely ever given for a good film so Hollywood was just being consistent. Rating one work of art over another is a stupid exercise to begin with but Hollywood is not famous for its intelligence. I realize that I am being preposterously generous by defining as art the product that ends up in the landfill of your local Cineplex, but I suppose even Adam Sandler movies somehow fit under the umbrella of art.

I can’t ever remember willfully watching an Academy Awards presentation, I have always thought that it is the height of anti-intellectualism to quantify art, and I have rarely agreed with the choices they make for "best" whatever. I just tune out this spectacle like I do anything else that I find annoying. Something that is a little more difficult to live with for anyone who enjoys movies is the whole Hollywood star system of actors.

There are probably tens of thousands of people in America who are capable of performing in a movie yet we are stuck watching fewer than about 20 people star in at least 90% of the major studio movies. If an actor stars in one successful film we seem to be stuck with that person for an entire generation. Whether or not that film was successful because of the merit of that actor is beside the point. A star is born. Any future success that this actor enjoys can be written off as a self-fulfilling prophecy. If a studio wants a film to succeed it can make that happen via marketing.

The last time that I went to a movie theater and sat through the previews, all that I could think was, “Are these the only actors we have?” One actor was staring in two of the upcoming movies. The choices Hollywood makes have nothing to do with merit, it’s all about marketing. There is very little incentive for studios to make good movies, all they want to do is make money. I have said that Hollywood could take a security camera tape from a suburban 7-11, doctor it up with a snappy musical score, market the living shit out of it, and it would be a blockbuster. If a movie has a $40 million marketing juggernaut behind it and opens in 3,000 theaters nationwide, it’s going to have a certain amount of success.

It’s depressing to me to think that I’m going to have to dodge Tom Cruise movies for the rest of my life. Jack Nicholson may live for another 30 years, and as long as they can prop him up in front of a camera, he will be staring in movies—most of them bad.

If only the movie industry could adopt some sort of “Three strikes and you’re out” policy. Actors should only be able to star in three films and then they must retire. They can go off and do local theater. They should at least have to lay fallow for a few years until they are able to develop a new persona. Since I have already mentioned thee two, Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson have been living off the same personas for their entire professional careers.

I couldn’t name three good movies that I’ve seen in the last two years, but it is hard for me to reap enough praise upon all of the fantastic HBO series. HBO, for whatever reasons, has not relied upon the usual stable of stars to make all of their great serialized programs. I have watched six seasons of The Sopranos and the only actor I know by his real name is the guy who plays Tony. The rest of the cast may as well be real life New Jersey gangsters for all that I know. I know all of the character names on The Wire, even the minor ones, but I don’t know any of their real names. The same goes for Entourage, Rome, and Deadwood.

I would include the FX series, The Shield, in this same lofty category of television innovation, although that show had an entire season tarnished by the over-the-top acting of Forest Whitaker in his guest role. All of the other actors on the show are no-names. I love no-names. I don’t want to know an actor’s name except that of the character he is playing.

Probably my favorite character on The Sopranos is a shifty-eyed little creep called Silvio Dante. He is the person he plays on the show as far as I am concerned and I wouldn’t want to see him in any other role. To me, Silvio epitomizes the strength of these programs because the actors bring an anonymity to their roles and then the serial nature of the shows allows a character development that just isn’t possible in a two hour movie.

There isn’t a lot of room on these programs for a huge ego like Dustin Hoffman or any other major Hollywood jackass. I am almost never impressed by the work of super-celebrity actors which is why I have a soft spot for foreign films where I recognize no one. I would much rather sit through a Bollywood musical than see another movie with Leonardo diCaprio or Matt Damon. There are a lot of actors out there who deserve a chance. It’s time we start letting a little bit of merit play into this industry instead of the old methods of nepotism, cronyism, and using the same tired stars in every film.

This same system dominates the writing profession. In the January 29, 2007 edition of The New Yorker there is a not-very-funny essay by David Sedaris. I am among the people who thought that Davis Sedaris was a very funny writer back when he first became a household name. Since then he has been pretty hit and miss with week’s essay falling under the later category. Actor Steve Martin has an unfunny essay in their Shouts and Murmurs page. On merit alone neither of these two articles would have been published, but the name recognition goes a long way even in the hallowed pages of The New Yorker.

You can criticize professional sports all you want but it is an industry based entirely upon merit. You can be the greatest ball player that ever lived but if you have a few bad weeks—in some sports a bad game or two—and some new kid is going to be taking your spot. And as far as nepotism, the team you play for may take a look at your athlete kid, but if he can’t play he doesn’t get in the game.

It’s sad to think how much we are missing. Instead of watching Keanu Reeves in another lousy performance we could he heralding in a wonderful new actor. Instead of reading second-rate efforts by Steve Martin and David Sedaris, we could be ushering in a striking new talent.