Someone Call Chicken Little...

Without getting into hysterics and dramatic, there is a sea change in progress. We are currently seeing the growing pains of a system, a pyramid, that is gradually beginning to establish its tiers. Much to the chagrin of the general Soccer Twitter population, it will not directly involve Pro/Rel. At least not for 20 years or so

With the demise of the New York Cosmos, and the NASL as a whole, the routine bitchings that are commonplace on Soccer Twitter have grown louder. But, that’s the standard fare, right? Instead of mourning, the hostility grows louder. Instead of pausing for reflection, the vitriol bites back harder. Instead of working to break down barriers in terms of tribalism between leagues/tiers/teams, the animus stews. Everyone thinks they know the right way. But no one wants to listen beyond the end of their own fingertips.

I’m personally saddened by the demise of the Cosmos. Their specter looms large over the US football landscape. They were the torchbearers. They were faces. They defined the fierce opposition to the elite in US football. They were the flag-waving establishment of the anti-establishment. They, effectively, took on the entirety of US football, and lost. And the toll of the loss hasn't been felt yet. But it will be.

Football in the US is in a period of growing pains. We are past the nascent, primordial phase. The ooze is beginning to combine, and multiply. And we are in the part of the gradual evolution of the US pyramid, that we can't really see what's going on. It's all microscopic and happening at a rate that we cannot comprehend. But it's there. And it's doing its job. And it's creating and destroying. Just as it should be.

In the US, prior to the emergence of the [original] NASL, the leagues had been predominantly regional. And, in all seriousness, given the size of the US, that's how it should be. Various attempts at reviving the long-dead ASL. The same league that had Bethlehem Steel FC, the proper. And the Fall River Marksmen. Just to name two big names. Those leagues never caught on. Plus, the clubs who were having the most success, at least in terms of the National Challenge Cup, were all amateur. And it stayed that way until the formation of MLS. 

That's the soup. It's grows. It dies. It turns into something else entirely. It grows more. It dies. Something else replaces it. Until ultimately, something catches on, and maintains its foothold. As easy as it is to panic, and to point fingers at the establishment in the USSF. Don't. It's a waste of time. Much like trying to force Pro/Rel is a waste of time. Give everything a chance to further establish itself. 20 years isn't a long time. Give it another 20-40, when our kids are having kids, or grandkids. Then we'll see. 

Right now we are still, really, in the phase where football is taking hold as a popular sport for people to watch. Between the proliferation of the Premier League games, or La Liga, or the Bundesliga, on television. Not to mention Liga MX, or our own domestic top flight. There's a lot of soccer available to anyone who wants to watch it. All they have to do is hit a button. With this in mind, it'll be the generation of my children, the ones who are growing up with the game being pushed to their forefront, who will make the changes necessary to make football successful in the US. Many clubs will fall. Many leagues will fall. But ultimately, there will be something stable that rises from the embers. It won't be as hyped as the PL. Or as heavily fellated as La Liga. But it will be something unique to the US, but will reflect the global taste that the supporters of the game here, have started to establish.

Unfortunately, with this evolution, giants must fall. Also, unfortunately, it was the time for the New York Cosmos to fal. But, we mustn't let their falling be in vain. We must lay the groundwork for the next generation to do what needs to be done. This means to end the in-fighting. To end the holier- than-thou preaching, and attacking. And end the tribalism. All of these measures are counter-intuitive to the end. And they're not means to an end. They're an end unto themselves. We must work together. For we lay the groundwork that will be built tomorrow. And we must do it for the clubs that have perished along the way.

A Challenge For the Upcoming Season

As a supporter of a football club, do you ever really think about how you support your club? It’s a weird place to be, reflecting on this. But someone brought up a point on Twitter regarding how one club’s supporters appear to be more about themselves and the spectacle, than supporting the club. It’s one opinion, but it has gotten me to think about my habits, and whether they serve a selfish purpose. Or if they’re actually for the betterment of the club I love.

This coming PDL season will be my third on the opposite side of the fence, from the boys. The second full season as an established supporter group. With this in mind, I’m thinking back to all of the times that attention and energies were spent being critical of a referee’s decision. Or a lino’s misjudging. There is at least one official that we cannot stand, as he seems to gleefully shatter the concept of home field advantage. There is no psychological advantage for my club, playing at their home ground. There’s no swing of calls going in their favor. Just shit calls, and what comes off as a dire need to be the focal point of the match.

This past Sunday (6 March), the Boarding Crew, SG for Derby City Rovers, went out to support the Rovers Academy. Something I’ve been excited to do since the possibility opened up to extend our support for the club, beyond the PDL level. It was a great day of football. From the age ranks of the 13s to the 18s. A fun day all around. But with the last 3 matches, the quality of the match officials denigrated drastically, compared to those holding the position previously. There were questionable calls made, as there always is. There were liberties taken on players, by other players, that were seemingly dutifully ignored. There was advantages played to the away side that had no place being given. And I grated on my patience as the day wore on.

As an aside, I understand that the match official’s job is to call the match interpreting the Laws of the Game. I understand that they have to make decisions on the fly, in the heat of the moment. And that their job is not exactly the easiest of any place on the pitch. I understand this. However, this doesn’t excuse the fact that myself, and my compatriots, and the club have felt aggrieved at points by referee decisions. US Soccer is supposedly the governing body of all match officials in the US. But there seems to be no system of accountability in place to enforce proper application of the Laws, and to enforce unbiased officiating.

It got frustrating to watch how the Rover kids were being muscled off the ball. They’re not as big as most sides. And the style they play is more technical and finesse driven. Their opposition, however, come did not seem to subscribe to that philosophy. I saw numerous elbows thrown, on runs. Numerous elbows to the back, or shoves to the back on aerial challenges. And I don’t know how many hacks on various midfielders. My club was just as guilty, but they didn’t act out to quite the same extent.

To me, part of a referee’s job, at the amateur and semi-pro level, is to protect the players. To be vigilant, and enforce liberties not be taken by one team against the other. Between that, and a free kick that should have been outside the 18 yard box, but was given as a penalty, I lost my cool. After repeatedly seeing one kick from the Ohio Elite Soccer Academy kicking at one of the Rovers’ ankles, I got spoke up. The center official yelled at me to “Shut up”. I quipped back, “No!” He retorted, “Do you want me to throw you out of the game?” I shot back, “No! I want you to do your job!” I was fuming. But I was tired of seeing the kids getting roughed up, unnecessarily. As a kicker to this, the full time whistle blew shortly after his threat of expulsion.

In thinking about this incident, and thinking about the question that was raised on Twitter; it got me really thinking about how I support my club. For the most part, I’d say that I support my club by raging against perceived injustice, in between chants of encouragement. Or the other random crap I yell at a match. But I do wonder, is my raging at a ref or lino a constructive exercise for my club? Does it help the players who are engrossed in the match? Or does it distract them?

This has also got me to thinking about how self-important a lot of referees are. You see all types of match officials who have to be the center of the show. Mostly through excessive stoppage of play. These match officials detract from the game, as they disrupt the match flow, and run of play. Sometimes, I think that certain match officials go about intentionally playing to the home crowd, drawing their ire; as a means to justify, in their own perverse way, adjudicating a match with bias.

With that in mind, I’m challenging myself to go through this coming PDL season focusing my energy on supporting my club. To not spend time criticizing referees, or loudly ruing decisions I disagree with, or riding an opposition player whom I feel using a bit of gamesmanship. To chant, and sing, and yell, and cheer. To go and be a positive force for the club I love. To pick them up when they concede. To encourage them as they push forward. To show the club, itself, that there is more to being a supporter than grousing about injustice.

I challenge anyone who supports a small club to try to do the same. It will be a challenge. It may be frustrating. And it will require discipline and sheer force of will to accomplish. But I’m interested to see if there may be any sort of reward. I’m also interested in seeing if a change in attitude, as it relates to supporter conduct, actually affects the players. This will be something that will be followed up on, toward the end of the season. I want to support my local club, Derby City Rovers, better than I have. And I think this may be the avenue to try it

More water than blood: A cross Atlantic Context

We are privileged, here at The Razor, to be given the opportunity to share articles that were written by Martin French (of the Louisville Coopers and the Louisville/Derby City Boarding Crew); that were published in the Waterford United matchday program. Without further ado...

The top of the US football system, similar to here, is on the third game of the season this weekend, with the two other professional leagues starting soon. However, there are elements that feel very different to Ireland’s game, even in terms of basic structure. As I am going to be following it a lot closer this year, I am going to explore some of the differences occasionally here

In Major League Soccer (MLS) in the USA (where I live these days), we are also into the third round of the season, while the second and third tiers are yet to start play, with the second and third tiers yet to kick off. The system here is confusing to those of us brought up in the European sphere, with footballing merit having little influence on promotion up the ladder, and no relegation. Simply put, these leagues are really three independent companies, with differing rules (though all FIFA recognised), who have vied for the right to be considered the top and second levels of football here.

MLS is going since 1996 – it was a part of the deal to get a World Cup here. The league is now 20 strong, with two new teams coming in this season (and one ”resting” for a couple of seasons to rebrand). It’s loosely divided into a Western and an Eastern Conference, with clubs also playing some games with teams in the other conference. At the end of the regular (league) season, 12 of the 20 teams go into conference playoffs, with winners of each conference playing each other in a final known as MLS Cup. It has teams in most of the big TV markets in the country (which is, though unwritten, the chief consideration for “expansion” teams wanting to join the league.

The second tier is the North American Soccer League, better known as the NASL. This isn’t the same NASL of Johnny Giles, Best, Pele and Beckenbauer – it is a separate company that bought out the name. However, as of two years ago, the New York Cosmos started playing in it (again, a new company, but who bought the name, and got Pele to front it). There are only 11 teams in the new NASL, and it follows the Latin American fashion of having an opening and a closing season, with the winners of each meeting in the woefully named “Soccer Bowl”.

The third and final tier of professional football is owned by United Soccer Leagues (who also operate the biggest 4^th tier amateur league), and has recently been rebranded as USL. It has expanded from 14 teams last year to 24 this year. USL works somewhat closely if rather informally with MLS and has 8 teams that are essentially reserve sides for MLS clubs, and of the other 16, 12 have a formal affiliation with an MLS team. This years is the first time with conference play, and 2 inter league games for a few teams. As with MLS, the top six finishers in each conference go to playoffs, with the winners of each conference playing for the Championship.

It is in USL that the newly formed Louisville City FC – the professional team for the city I now live in – will make their bow next weekend, at Slugger Field, the local baseball stadium. Affiliated to Orlando City in MLS, and owned by one of their former part owners, the team was somewhat enticed into existence by the demands of a local football supporters’ group, set up for this very purpose.

The manager (called Head Coach here) is a little familiar to Irish eyes: James O’Connor is a former Irish U21 international, and played for a variety teams in the English Championship. He moved to Orlando in 2012 to play for them, becoming a coach and then trading off to get into managing. Further weirdness here is that he is called Coach O’Connor – I wonder what Tommy Griffin would say if we called him Coach Griffin.

It Was as if I Had Waited All This Time For This Moment and For the First Light of This Dawn to be Vindicated...

Sunday was the 20^th anniversary of one of the seminal moments in Eric Cantona’s career. One that had a profound effect on Man United. As well as on Cantona’s reputation. Sunday was the anniversary of the kung-fu kick heard ‘round England. Sunday was the 20^th anniversary of Eric Cantona’s kick on Matthew Simmons, at Selhurst Park.

In reading the retrospectives that Old Mother Beeb and the Grauniad offered, a few interesting things showed up to me. First, one of the very important points that everyone makes about Cantona, is that he was a man who wanted to do what he wanted to do. He didn’t always feel like it was important to remain within the confines that surrounded him. Throughout his career he was known as L’enfant terrible due to his issues with discipline. But it speaks to something deeper, to look at Cantona within his own context.

As a philosophy student, I found myself in love with Existentialism. I found in Albert Camus a kindred spirit. Someone who saw a lot of the same things about society and life, that I was seeing. He just happened to articulate them, in a manner that was accessible to me, in my mid-20s. Camus’ most famous work is a book called The Stranger. It’s main character Meursault finds himself in much the same type of existence as Eric Cantona. In the book, Meursault is arrested and sentenced to death for committing murder. When asked, repeatedly as to his motivation for doing so, yet he could rarely explain why he committed the murder. Momentary impulse. In the book, Meursault is raging at being blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the beach, and fighting heatstroke. That’s the best guess you can get as for Meursault’s motivations. With this as the basis, the argument could be made that Eric Cantona’s professional football career was similar to that of Meursault’s life, in The Stranger.

Eric Cantona had a way about him. He was the type of footballer whom you either loved zealously. Or you loathed equally as zealously. He was incendiary. He was arrogant. He was mercurial. He was magnificent. He was not man. He was Cantona. He was unlike anything that England had seen before. And truthfully, as I started diving into football played before I came into it, he was unlike anything I’d ever encountered before. He was genuinely his own player. And that made him revolutionary to me.

Football in England, in the early 90s was an exercise in the absurd. The Football League and FA were still recovering from the Taylor Report, and its recommendation of moving from terraces at the football grounds, to all-seaters. England was in the process of transitioning back into European competition after a lengthy ban due to Heysel. On top of all of this madness, SKY felt that the early-90s were a great time to invent football by ushering the Premier League era. In a lot of ways, it was a time when English football was looking for heroes, to help pull them from the doldrums of the late 80s. It needed someone to come along to reinvigorate and energize the game from its slumber. It came, in a manner of speaking, and proved to be more than they could handle.

Eric Cantona was the everything that the Premier League needed at its inception. He embodied a lot of what the Premier League, still, believes football should be about. It was the time of players like Matthew Le Tissier, Alan Shearer, Tony Adams, John Barnes, Teddy Sheringham, Andy Cole, and Peter Schmeichel. It was a time of players who were larger than life. But none of these guys could capture the imagination in much the same way that Cantona did. He began his career, in England, at Leeds. He was a part of the Leeds squad who won the old Football League championship in ’92. The story of how he got transferred to Man United is the story of legend, and has been told to death. So I won’t share it here, except to highlight that part of the reason why Man United got him, was because he was considered to be a bit of a troublemaker to Howard Wilkinson.

Cantona as a player was as enigmatic as you may have ever seen. But he was also very much mercurial. Allegations of how he wouldn’t show up for big matches, but would steal the show in matches that didn’t matter are rife on the internet. His detractors are adamant that he was a blight upon football, and that he should have been banned for life, for his actions at Selhurst Park, 20 years ago Sunday. Yet, for all of those who want to see his legend and legacy torn down; Cantona has an almost Christ-like following. Those who preach of his legend revere him as King Eric. The same one who scored the beautiful chipped goal against Sunderland, was also capable of terrible temper tantrums. The complexity of his character, and the complexity of the man beneath the Cantona exterior is unfathomably intense.

With this in mind, let’s reference the events of that night at Selhurst. He was feeling aggrieved at the referee for not punishing Richard Shaw. He took umbrage upon the continual kicking he was receiving from Richard Shaw. When the referee finally bothered to brandish a card, it was a straight red to Cantona for a well-placed retaliatory kick on Shaw. Cantona had a knack about him for drawing attention, especially negative. And this was no exception. So, he was given his marching orders. Converging events. Meursault, in his own similar way, got caught in a build up of events. From his Maman’s passing, to his relationship with Marie, to the plot with Raymond to catch Raymond’s girlfriend cheating and to beat her. Eventually, much like Meursault and the Arab, because of his aggravation at the brightness of the sun on the beach; Cantona hit his breaking point after being disparaged, and kung-fu kicked Matthew Simmons into history.

Cantona, as a player, was adamantly determined to do things by his own rules. He never really felt remorse for his decisions. He just acknowledged them, and moved on. Much in the same way that Meursault never truly felt remorse for killing the Arab. Meursault’s tenuous relationship with the chaplain, especially in how the chaplain is threatened by Meursault’s stubbornness about seeking forgiveness; it’s Cantona and the FA, or the media. Meursault would rebuff the chaplain without bothering to hear him out. And Cantona famously had the apology to the prostitute had supposedly spent the night with, as well as his infamous quote about seagulls and trawlers. Their flippancy is indicative of their disdain for the society who cannot understand that you don’t necessarily need a justifiable cause to do something. Without delving into the philosophical paradox that arises from the projection of one’s morality onto another, that’s really the point. Meursault and Cantona existed in their own worlds. They did what they wanted. They did not worry about what consequence it may bring. They accepted their consequence, albeit begrudgingly, and moved on. In Cantona’s case, it was a 9 month ban, and for Meursault, it was execution. It was a drastic response and consequence for a choice made, in the heat of the moment, by a man whose perception of the world, and his role in it; something that convention and society cannot understand. Therein lies the absurdity. To Cantona and Meursault, the reactions of society at their actions makes no sense. To them, it is a blowing out of proportion, the events that took place around them. In this sense, the context of man fighting against an absurd tempest surrounding him, becomes clearer. They were just men who wanted to live their own lives. And it wasn’t until they were worn down by the system they raged against, that they ultimately relented.

Eric Cantona, to me, was very much the fish out of water story. While he excelled in facets of English football, he wasn’t for the game. It wasn’t a good fit for him. While he may not have killed an Arab, he did randomly kick and punch a Crystal Palace supporter. He also opened a can of worms of animosity between his former club and Palace, that ultimately got a Palace supporter killed. Maybe the parallels run deeper than I thought.

I suspect that Meursault, had he been a footballer, would have been of a similar mettle. His indifference to straying from his own path would have brandished him as a troublemaker. And maybe a scintillating goal or two for the ages. He would, had he been born of this world, been Eric Cantona. Enigmatic. Mercurial. And most importantly, controversial. And he’d have everyone’s attention, whether they loved him or not.

Thoughts on the US and Germany...

We are 17 minutes in, and I'm watching with my 2 month old son.

- To summarize: Sloppy pitch. Slow match. And Germany are attacking with such intention, I'm thinking they are marching into Paris. The German attack off the wings is carving the US back four to absolute shit, but they're not finishing. I don't know if it's because of the rain or soggy pitch, or what.

- The US once again gets the benefit of a questionable no-call.

- I still hate Taylor Twellman. He's a shit color man.

- The US' first true attack came to nothing.

- Apparently, the US back four have seemingly learned to not leave Howard stranded.

- The German possession control has been amazing. Even despite the rain falling, and the deteriorating pitch.

- Great tackle by the referee there.

- The US looks moderately lethal on the counter, except that there's no support for the man up top.

- The US is giving Germany all kinds of space going forward. That's gonna bite them soon.

- Ironically, on the anniversary of the beginning of the Berlin Air-Lift, that seems to be the way the US will get ahead. Go over the top.

- Tim Howard should be playing the old Beckenbauer role.

Half-time thoughts:

- The US are chasing this match. Like their other matches.

- Germany look composed, menacing, and threatening whenever they have possession. If only they could finish.

Second half:

- Klose coming on, Germany may have their edge now.

- Defensive shape shouldn't be a worry, Taylor. They should work on remaining organised and composed. Gonzalez and Howard aren't enough.

- Did they just say that if results stand, the US would play Monaco in the knockout? I'm sure Berbatov would love to pick the US back four apart.

- And so it begins, Klose has way too much space.

- The only way Bradley could have been more late on that challenge, would have been for him to be Paul Scholes.

- Nice goal for Muller. It was coming, it was just a matter of time.

- I have to credit Klose for that goal. He has completely unwound that US back four.

- Germany are into siege mode.

- Klose is just the walking epitome of cool. He's just composed, focused, and nothing is rattling him.

- The US are showing impatience, and carelessness with possession.

- The German counter is fantastic. Support for the forward man, so rare.

- And as we draw onto 79 minutes, the match moves into its familiar metronomic tempo. Steady, consistent, and intricately German.

- Germany just keeps pushing forward. Heavy touches in the box are their undoing in the second half.

- At this point, if the US has sealed qualification for the knockout, maybe it's time they start to slow up. Even though those players should play as though Portugal were level with them on goal differential, whether true or not.

- What a run for the US. What a great bit of awareness and tenacity for Lamm to stop what would have been a goal.

Post-match:

- Germany look good going into the knockout.

- The US still have a long way to go, but Klinsmann is laying down some very strong roots. For the US to make it past the round of 16, they need to do something about their positional awareness. They need to do something about not leaving Tim Howard in the cold, to defend goal on his own. His midfield and back four need to pay more attention to how much space you give attacking players in their final third, and allowing the play to get into their final third, in the first place. If the US could shore up this big issue, they'd be formidable on the counter-attack.

Post-post-match:

- The US was lucky that Germany couldn't finish. The Germans could have easily destroyed the goal differential between the US and Portugal. Easy. Sloppy sloppy luck.

Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that...

I have been a football supporter for 13-ish years. I fell into my love of European football because of Michael Owen, and it has been a passion of mine since then. In the time since my first exposure to football, I have been a part of a lot of things. I've experienced the ecstasy associated with being a supporter of a club that has had a modicum of success, and I have experienced the agony of watching as my club underachieved. More than anything, I have experienced the politics and inanity that comes with football supporter groups.

I cut my teeth as a football supporter with Liverpool Football Club. I supported them from 2000-2009. I saw them win Europe. I saw them lose on a Pippo Inzaghi handball that went uncalled. I saw them fight so hard to win England, but consistently fall short. I saw the infamous Stevie G FA Cup final. At the same time, I was on the whiteboards, the message boards, and any supporter site that would take me. I saw the derision and animosity within the factions of the club while Tom Hicks and George Gillett were the club's owners. I saw unrest toward Rafa Benitez, as the club underachieved in the Premier League, yet flourished in Cup competitions. I spoke up, in those groups, wanting to support the manager. Wanting to support the club. Unfortunately, I was met with a lot of accusations of being a plastic. A term of derision used by football supporters to denote the genuineness, a perpetuation of a sort of hierarchy. I was told that there was no way I could be true supporter of the club, because I didn't grow up within walking distance of Anfield Road. It angered me at the time. I fought these accusations, and attempted to establish some sort of credentials with my peer supporters. As I have learned time and again when it comes to arguments based in textual medium; it was all a waste of time.

Around the time of all of this unrest, there was the big brouhaha over Steven Cohen. Cohen is a Chelsea supporting radio personality who had a few choice (read: derogatory, incendiary) comments about the Hillsborough Disaster, on his radio show. Cohen made baseless claims about the disaster, and incensed the Liverpool supporters into a frenzy. So, at this point in time, you have supporters turning against the owners. Turning against the manager. And now attacking a radio host. At the time, with the animosity I felt toward the other supporters for how they treated me, I felt justified in just wanting them to shut up about the owners, and the manager. And frankly, I just wanted them to shut up about Cohen. It was during this time, that I was fully exposed to a lot of the politics that define the football supporter culture. I got effectively ostracised by my peers, because I had opinions that were contrary to theirs. Eventually, I got so fed up with not having my opinions heard, that I just walked away. I just ended my association with Liverpool Football Club and its supporters.

It was around this time that one of my associates pushed me about "supporting a real club". He wanted me to stop supporting a losing club, as he saw it, and support a club of winners. It was through him that I crossed the divide that few ever venture. I transitioned into being a supporter of Manchester United at this point. I got welcomed with open arms by some supporters, and others met me with contempt. I was later dubbed as a plastic again, by a handful of the supporters, when Michael Owen signed for the club. It was something that infuriated me then, and when I think about it now, it still perturbs me just a bit. It was a rough lesson to learn that the Man United supporters are equally as ridiculous and as hierarchical as the Liverpool supporters were. And that lesson was only beginning.

During 2011, I was writing for a Man United blog called 7 Cantonas. It was a job that I loved, and was the main inspiration behind the blog you currently read this on. After one of their writers, Darren Jennings, posted an article about Steven Cohen, that was meant to inflame the Liverpool supporters who read the blog; it got me to thinking about my past. I wrote a lengthy missive on my history as a football supporter, where I first truly delved into the politics of the supporter culture. I discussed my history as a Liverpool supporter, and my history as a Man United supporter. It was also at this time that I was writing for a second site, one called Red Views, which was headed by David Hammons who blogged on the site The United Religion. This was a piece that was to be joint post on both sites, where I had hoped that supporters would heed my lessons. That ultimately failed. However, before I get into that, there was more going on at that point.

During that period, there was the infamous(ly failed) Green & Gold movement. The Manchester United Supporters Trust engaged in its war with the owners of the club, the Glazers. The MUST and its ranks were raging against the fact that the owners were accruing a sizable debt in the club's name. While I appreciated and respected the MUST, and its Green & Gold movement, especially about making the owners of the club accountable; as I learned about the tactics used to get that point across, I started to speak out against it. The MUST would berate, or in some cases physically attack, supporters who were stepping into the club megastore, or were wearing a modern shirt. I found myself in various flame wars, through Twitter and a few other sites, where my being critical of the supporters and their blind criticism of the ownership was found to be a great point for me to be ostracised. The supporters though wouldn't turn on Sir Alex Ferguson, he's as revered as Matt Busby to them. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A couple of years ago Fergie wrote an essay in one of the match programs, asking the supporters of the club to unify together with the club, and to support the Glazers. That put Fergie firmly in the crosshairs of the MUST. And that was something that annoyed me, and I spoke up about. And it got me called a plastic, yet again.

When I was writing for 7 Cantonas, I carried a very dim view of any Man United supporters who were aggressively tribalist. I hated seeing slogans like "The only good Scouser is a dead Scouser" or "We won it three times without killing anyone". I criticised the blogs who perpetuated that. Eventually, the pissing matches that were treated like feuds, got me into pariah status. David Hammons, especially making an example of out me. I got called a traitor. Compared to Benedict Arnold. And effectively had any credibility that I had as a Man United blogger, flushed out from under me. While I was never truly singled out for verbal abuse, I got ignored and cold shoulders from former associates. That, along with being made to feel like I'm not a true supporter because my life doesn't revolve around going to watch matches, proved to be the straw that broke me as a football supporter. As well as watching how the supporters were absolutely mutinous toward David Moyes. Because of this, I don't really align myself with any particular club anymore. I just want to watch football to watch football.

With the formation of a club in my hometown, I had hoped that my experience would be a bit better. Again my hope was let down. In my hometown, there is a semi-pro club, the Derby City Rovers. One which I had wished I had discovered sooner. I had learned of their existence as a part of the supporters group for the newly founded Louisville City Football Club. The group, The Coopers, had a very large role in convincing the new former Orlando City SC to relocate to my hometown. The group was ferociously active online, and through semi-regular meetings and events, geared toward building up the support. It's been a hell of a lot of fun, but recently, it has lost its luster.

The semi-pro club, in an effort to unify the football culture in Louisville, had extended invitations to the Coopers to establish a working relationship with them. As a way of extending the Coopers' profile, and to extend the brand of the Rovers. It should have been a wonderful relationship. Somehow, or somewhere though, the wheels fell off. The first home match of the season had a total of eight of us there. We were welcomed and treated amazingly. We were given our own specific section. It was great. However when the second match rolled around, we got no special treatment. What was our section was not marked as such. And we only had five people there, for the second match. None of the higher-ups in the group really bothered to make it. And of those who were there for the first match, one of our group was at work that night. So his absence was understandable. But where was everyone else? Apparently, they were on Facebook or Twitter bitching about proposed crest for the new Louisville City FC. A move that enraged myself, and one other member of our party. But this isn't the first time this has happened. Ever since the first big meeting, in January, the higher-ups in the group haven't really shown up for most of the other events. They can't seem to be bothered. But I'll be damned, if there is a photo op to make, those higher-ups are there. Shaking hands. Schmoozing. And generally acting like goodwill ambassadors. But they cannot be arsed to appear at these smaller events. Places where the profile of the group could be made or broken. And in a lot of ways, it's just another lesson about the politics of football supporter groups.

I've seen a lot of stuff online regarding the group and their distaste toward the proposed crest for the Louisville City. I've seen equally as many expressing displeasure at how the Coopers weren't consulted about any sort of proposals regarding the club. The group doesn't have ownership stake, as shares haven't been floated. Some of the group is angry about how they were only given approximately 40 minutes of time to get their season tickets first, before the rest of the public, after the announcement was made of the club's establishment. The politics at play could very easily get messy in this case, and in a lot of ways, it could alienate a lot of people. Present company included. So, for the time being, I am going to continue to support the Rovers. And when the time comes, I'll decide how much I'll allow myself to support Louisville City.

I have seen the politics of the football supporters groups firsthand. I've seen how divisive they can be. I have spoken out against them wherever I can, because football is supposed to be fun. Supporting a football club is supposed to be fun. It isn't supposed to be about this bullshit. It isn't supposed to be about dick-waving. It isn't supposed to be about feeling like the owners of the club are against the supporters, or vice versa. We are all supposed to be together, sharing in the joy and pain of loving our club. It isn't about only showing up when there are cameras present, it's about cultivating unity at all times. It's about celebrating football, and your club. It's about watching a game we love, with people who feel the same. Not about getting bogged down, or getting one's panties in a wad over minor details. Colors don't matter. Crests don't matter. The club matters. The players matter. The manager matters. The supporters matter. And too damn many people seem to forget that.

Wynalda Needs the Lipstick...

A few years back I was on my couch relaxing (probably just finished firing off some knuckle children or preparing to do so. Hey it was a boring day, don't judge.) when my good buddy Eric texted me with an idea for a piece he wanted to write. As a former blogger for a few sites I was familiar with his work and have to admit, I was a fan. While not a supporter of a club I have fond feelings for (absolutely hate) his work was always well thought out and very articulate in my opinion. He then mentioned starting his own site and tossed out the idea of me joining him in this venture. Now on this particular Sunday afternoon I was in the midst of an alcohol infused haze. Admitedly I was a bit fixchased. Whats that youre thinking? Well it's a lot like shitfaced but worse. In this state I thought this was a brilliant idea not taking into account the fact that I absolutely suck as a writer. Suck isn't a strong enough word but I can't think of something stronger. Lets say I suck slightly less than that meth addict hooker from that Breaking Bad episode that had the montage where she blew everyone within a 5 mile radius. Yeah, her but just a few cocks short. I've always wished I could do it (the writing not the meth and knob slobbing) but it's a skill I sadly lack. After sobering up I wasn't as enthused but said fuck it. I'll give it a shot. A few pieces later I proved my chops at knocking out garbage articles that were more entertaining for how pathetic they were than well written. I fancy myself a great talker but the words don't translate to paper for me like they do Eric. Fast forward to present and he is back doing his thing and busting out great pieces.He has asked me to do what I can and stink the place up worse than a white castle fart again so I decided to oblige in hopes that it might inspire more form him and help keep things rolling in the right direction. As most of you know my beloved Arsenal finally ended the trophy drought this past weekend and there are a few points I'd like to touch on so continue at your own risk and hopefully you'll bear with me and find amusement in my ramblings.

   Why am I still doubting Arsene Wenger? Why do we as sports fans always feel we know best when we cleary know dick about the actual goings on? Everyone who knows me well knows that I am the most hard headed asshole around so it probably isn't a shocker when I don't learn. The man admittedly has taken more undeserved shit than a taco bell toilet and it's sad to say numerous times I have been amongst the haters. Like a horrible rap cliche his haters are his motivators though. He has done so much with so little and kept  the boat afloat many years against odds that only a handful of managers could overcome. Yet he still takes shit. He's taken m ore shit than a case of depends in Mexico after some old fucker drank the water. As he took Podolski off for Sanogo I was back amongst the shit giving. Taking off our most clinical finisher for a man who has proven he isn't ready for this level and looks like a newborn horse trying to stand up every time the ball is at his feet while down 1 appeared to be the stupidest move since I tried writing a serious piece for The Razor. By the games end it proved to be the right move. Sanogo brought a pace and physicality against a squad determined to kick us off the field that made the difference on the day. I really think this substitution made the difference that ultimately won us the cup. He even had a part in the winning goal. If this was hockey he would've been given the 2nd assist that other sports don't recognize the importance of. Taking off Cazorla who was our best player on the day was frowned upon by many supporters at the time but I definitely agreed Rosicky brought a pace and drive that was badly needed so I was in agreeance there. So for doubting the most intelligent manager in football I owe Wenger a sincere apology. My parents have 4 dogs which is actually a low number for them. They constantly watch dogs for family who are out of town or have multiple more when myself or my sister visit. To the extent that sometimes there are a dozen dogs at their house. So to a man that has taken more shit than my parents back yard all while constantly winning and doing things the right way and with extreme class,I say sorry boss. I'll try to keepmy ignorant opinions to myself from now on. Can't promise my thick skulled ass will be succesful but I'll try

   Has there ever been a more funloving guy than Lukas Podolski? The man is always smiling and the pictures of him pouring a 40oz Budweiser on Arsene and wearing the top cups lid like a hat while giving the goofiest smiles ever really nailed down the point. Vermaelen dropped the lid while over zealously raising the cup too fast and Lukas knew exactly what to do. I couldn't help but laugh seeing a grown man looking like an exuberant little kid. Also he poured that 40 on Arsene like he was his fallen homie and pouring the beer on him was going to actually bring him back. I loved it.

   Gus Johnson is the man. Fox knew what they were doing when they put him in charge of calling their soccer matches. The man might know jack shit about the game but he brings an excitement only matched by Hispanic announcers that is sorely needed in a sport a majority of Americans find about as exciting and painful as recieving a 90 minute long titty twister. If we could only teach him to yell GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLL!!!!!! he'd be the perfect man for the job. That and he needs to put his foot down and make them cut out the make up. I think Fox is fucking with him by constantly having him look like a trasvestite who is over doing it. Is all that blush and lipstick really necessary? come on Fox.

   On the flip side we have Eric Wynalda. He blows way harder than the hooker from Breaking Bad. I couldn't stand him as an analyst for Fox. He doesn't know shit about shit and spends a majority of his time bashing Arsenal for nogood reason. Listening to his verbal diarrhea as the color commentator I couldn't help but think he is the cuntiest cunt who is currently cunting in the football world until I remembered the existance of John Terry, Luis Suarez, Wayne Rooney, and Jose Morinho. So he's made the top 5. Congratulations you worthless shit head. He had no real insight, no enthusiam,a serious inability to call the match objectively, and sounded like he had no desire to even be there. Put the lipstick and horrible make up on him so he can be seen as the joke he truly is. Apparently across the pond Michael Owen is just as bad if not worse. I have no clue why all the butt hurt but when I get my butt massager company off the ground to cure butt hurt forever I'll send them both one for free to help them get over their chapped asses.

    Aaron Ramsey. The Welsh Jesus. I feel like that's all that needs to be said but after the season he has had I'd love to hump his leg. The man struggled to recover after his horrific leg break a few years back and became the most hated player at the club but he fought through everything to be our best palyer this year and score the game winner. For some reason Diaby is given a pass for never being the same after a broken leg but Ramsey was never forgiven. The double standard was a bit unwarranted but now he is a legend. Well done sir.

   And last but most importantly ARSENAL WON THE CUP!!!! After 9 years of constantly being reminded we haven't won anything we can now send a collective fuuuuuck you! to everyone who felt the need to rub that fact in our collective face. Many clubs have gone much longer but for some reason it has been the stick used to repeatedly bash Arsenal supporters in the nuts with. Wenger is a specialist in failure huh Mourinho? How many trophies did you win this season, you twat? Days later and the excitment of this win is still fresh inside me and I love it. Here's to the upcoming community shield and many more.