Brian Thompson bthompson@media.ucla.edu
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Once upon a time, I made a vow to some friends that I would
never, ever write another soccer column again.
“What’s wrong with you?” they would ask.
“Why do you like soccer all of a sudden? It’s
un-American.”
I used to badmouth soccer like every other red-blooded American
in my younger years. Who wants to watch a bunch of wussies kick a
ball back and forth for an hour and a half, only to be lucky to see
one, lousy goal?
Well, I’ve gone to the dark side. At this rate, I’m
on track to become full-fledged Euro trash before I know it.
I’ll have to trade in my corn-on-the-cob and apple pie for
fish ‘n’ chips. I’ll have given up Budweiser for
Carlsburg. And I’ll have given up my trusty Saturn for an
Audi or a Saab.
Don’t get me wrong, I still love baseball, basketball,
football and hockey. That will never change. But this new fixation
I have with the other football ““ soccer ““ is downright
disturbing.
It all started a few years ago when I began to cover the UCLA
men’s soccer team for this very publication. I have to admit,
even this impartial journalist got a little caught up in the
Bruins’ run for the 1999 College Cup.
The interest grew while visiting Europe in the summer of 2000
during the European Championships. Knock the Euros if you will, but
they show a passion for soccer that fans in Los Angeles can’t
hold a candle to, even during the NBA playoffs when they actually
try to care.
Since then, I have gone so far as to wear soccer paraphernalia,
and watch Fox Sports World incessantly for its English soccer
coverage. This, of course, means waking up at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday
mornings.
But now, I’ve really gone off the deep end. A few months
ago, I kicked a soccer ball for the first time in my life.
I’ve even invested in a new pair of Adidas cleats, or
“boots,” as the Euros call them.
Now most of us learn to play some sort of sport, game or
activity as small children, whether it is baseball, basketball,
tennis or even dancing. Our youth seems to be the ideal time to
learn something new, and the skills we pick up can, often, last us
a lifetime.
But let me tell you, when you try to pick up a new sport later
in life, it seems a heck of a lot harder than when you learned how
to play tee ball as a 5-year-old. Even when that sport is merely
kicking a ball back and forth with someone, it can be harder than
it looks. Don’t laugh.
Popular belief amongst most Americans around the world is that
soccer is known as the “beautiful game.” But it is safe
to say that there is nothing beautiful ““ or even remotely
palatable ““ about the way I play soccer.
I really did not think that soccer would be too difficult. The
game seems simple enough: you kick the ball around, run a little
and hope that the ball goes in the goal a few times more than it
does for your opponent.
I’ve watched a ton of soccer games in the last three
years. I’ve seen guys like Pete Vagenas, Shaun Tsakiris and
Ryan Futagaki (those are all former or current UCLA players, folks)
make it look easy with pinpoint passes, blazing runs into space and
thunderous strikes for goals. And I’ve watched world-class
players every week on television.
It would be naive for me to think that I could do what these
seasoned athletes could do. After all, we all know that after
watching Shaq we can’t go out and dominate in the paint, or
after watching Barry Bonds, launch a curveball 400 feet. But come
on, this is soccer. How hard can it be?
I can throw a football decently well and can hit a golf ball
pretty far.
But for the life of me, I can’t kick those booming,
60-yard balls, or put a swerving pass right on a teammate’s
foot.
And as for playing in real games? Well, that’s been a
losing battle in and of itself. I’ve learned that real
strategy exists. It’s more than just kicking the ball
forward. And there are players that love nothing more than to
embarrass a rookie Yank like me.
My new adventure has begun. And yes, I undoubtedly will receive
a whole lot of flack from my buddies out there about this. But when
I’m playing at the World Cup, I’ll have the last
laugh.