Sports Help Men Avoid Feelings

As featured on Click2Houston.com:

This time of year is difficult for a man; there's nothing good on television.

What I mean by that, of course, is that there isn't much to watch in the way of sports. For many men, sports is the only thing worth watching.

The football season is months away, baseball is at its tedious early-season stage, most people's knowledge of hockey begins and ends with the film "Miracle," and the only ones paying attention to soccer are us Anti-American Europhiles who are hell-bent on having the U.N. take over your town.

"What about basketball?" I hear you say. "It's playoffs, baby!"

Exactly. There's nothing good on television. I question the legitimacy of a sport when the players haven't figured out how to dress properly.

As a side note, due to my lack of interest, I had to check the official NBA Web site to ensure that it really is time for playoffs. I discovered there that the NBA has something called a "D-League."

Apparently the "D" stands for "development," but think of all the other words that start with "D:" deficient, dull, dumb and dunderheaded. Who's going to go watch a load of D-League players? Give me C-League, at least. Do D-Leaguers have to repeat the season?

Most amusingly, there is a team in the D-League known as the Fort Wayne Mad Ants. Really? Mad ants? That's the best they could come up with?

What do their fans say? "Go Mad Ants! Get angry, you ants! Play like someone's taken all your sugar!"

But the thing is, if there were a Mad Ants game on TV tonight, I would watch it. I am male and I have to watch sports. If I don't, the terrorists win.

Actually, I think a man's seemingly constant need to watch sports runs a bit deeper. Watching sport is a kind of emotional opiate.

The common perception by women is that men are emotionally D-League -- we don't quite get it. In truth, though, we do get it. We just don't like it. Feelings are hurty and troublesome. Feelings are the Bo and Luke Duke of our souls, upsetting our happy Enos Strate status quo.

I've never bought into the idea that men feel particularly differently than women. I think we just respond to feelings differently. Also, we generally don't seek out particularly emotional experiences. I know women who watch films that they know will make them cry. How does this make sense?

"Sometimes it's good to cry," my wife insists.

Sometimes it's good to get a colonoscopy; neither event, however, is really my idea of a good evening in. So, I watch sports.

I can sit there comfortable in the knowledge that at no point will I be introduced to some cute and quirky female character whom I will fall in love with, only to watch her make an idiot decision or die of a horrible disease. At no point will I be confronted with my own prejudices. At no point will I be forced to question my moral foundation.

There are moments of high emotion in sport. I will always remember the way the whole of Cardiff seemed to jump when Wales won the Grand Slam. A particularly important rugby achievement in this part of the world, it was met by rapturous celebration in Wales' capital city. My lasting memory is of all of us in the Maltster's Arms in midair as the final whistle blew.

But that kind of thing is rare. Generally all you get from watching sports is a handful of people you don't know running around for a few hours. If you are watching basketball or soccer, you get the added feature of watching people you don't know pretend they are injured.

Watching sports is easy on the soul. It settles all the frustrating things that might be dwelling there. In my case, watching sports helps me to take my mind off the paralyzing fear of exams I'm facing next month. I know I can trust Manchester United star Cristiano Ronaldo to do nothing more than run around like a sprite and pout.

Somehow that puts the world at right.

Footie

Portsmouth and Cardiff are in the FA Cup final. Anthony, if you are reading this you'll want to read up on these teams because this is the match you will be watching when you and Maggie come to visit. Travelling several thousand miles only to find yourself watching soccer in a pub may seem a bit silly, but this is non-negotiable.

You will be supporting Cardiff City. This is equally non-negotiable. I'm not necessarily happy about it, but supporting the home team is a matter of health and safety in this country. In the United States, it is a cheeky thing to sit in a bar in one team's town and support the other team, but this isn't the United States; people here don't think it's funny to do that. They will hurt you on principle.

For those of you playing along at home, there's this game called soccer, which is really popular over here. They like soccer so much that their leagues and divisions mesh into an incongruous mess that forces the soccer season to be approximately 78 months long.

In America we are used to having ESPN tell us which teams are good, but here they expect you to actually watch loads of matches and figure this stuff out for yourself. I can't be arsed to do that. An easy cheat is to look at who is playing in the semi-final and final matches of three major competitions: the Champions League, the FA Cup and (to a lesser extent) the UEFA Cup.

Diehard soccer fans will split hairs with me on this statement, but that is because all diehard soccer fans are bound by the International Code of Diehard Football Supporters to disagree with anything anyone else says about the game. Bylaw 234 of the code also specifically states that anything an American says about the game should automatically be questioned, even when we make inarguable points like, "Soccer is played with a ball."

Anyway, the FA Cup is kind of big. In Britain (i.e., in competitions that take place solely within Britain), it is the biggest sporting event of the year. And now the two teams representing the cities that tie me emotionally to this country are set to take on one another on May 17.

I was wearing my old Portsmouth jersey as I sat in front of the television Saturday. I kept turning around and stupidly grinning at Rachel when strains of "Play up Pompey" could be heard over the BBC announcers.

"See?!" I wanted to say. "They really do that! Just like I said they do!"

Rachel wasn't bothered, and went upstairs to read. Mentally it appears West Brom did the same thing, defeated by Portsmouth's magical ability not to outplay them but simply bore them into complacency. But as Cardiff's Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink would remark the next day: "It's not how you do it, but that you do it."

Indeed, Cardiff adopted a similar strategy Sunday of playing slightly better than Barnsley, scoring a goal early and then just sort of running about for an hour. Or, at least, that's one interpretation. It really depends on who you were listening to how the match played out.

The Cardiff-Barnsley match wasn't on television, so I followed via the wireless (FTYPAH: "radio"). I started out listening to Five Live's coverage, featuring Alan "I hate David Beckham for no good reason" Green (a). The match was so boring to him that he started commenting on things outside the play, such as what he and the other announcer would be eating during halftime. At some point he looked across the broadcasters booth and spotted a fellow announcer, Malcolm, who was "doing commentary for the Cardiff crowd."

"My goodness, he's really worked himself up, hasn't he?" observed Green.

"I think he's speaking Welsh," said Green's co-announcer.

"Is he? Well, if you speak Welsh, you might want to switch over to listen to Malcolm, because he's clearly watching a match different to the one I'm watching."

So I switched over, and indeed, it was a different match. The same teams were playing, but in this competition Cardiff were not a mid-level Championship team and Barnsley were not close to relegation (b). Instead it was The Greatest Story Ever Told. Cardiff were Cúchulainn (c) against the English horde.

For amusement, I found myself switching back and forth between Five Live and Radio Cymru.

FIVE LIVE: "I'll be honest, with the exception of that goal by Ledley, the standard of play today has been really poor."

RADIO CYMRU: "Crushed in Watford (d), whipped in Toulouse (e), Swansea and Wrexham humiliated and heartbroken, this has been The Most Black Weekend for Wales. But now our Capitol City carries the hopes of a nation. After 81 years (f), Cardiff -- Wales -- are just 10 agonizing minutes from their chance to fight Portsmouth! Their chance -- our chance -- to defeat the English and take from them their cup!"

FIVE LIVE: "...Barnsley have really only had one flash of inspiration in this whole match. Anyway, we have been given by the producers an enormous tin of biscuits, which I can't imagine anyone could possibly consume in a single sitting..."

RADIO CYMRU: "Rise up! Rise up! Now is the time! Fe godwn ni eto! (g) Wales' moment of glory is at hand! We will defeat them! Providence is on our side! The Capitol City ushers in Cymru's Golden Age!"

OK, well, perhaps I'm exaggerating a bit. But the point is, in Welsh it was a much more exciting match. As the clock ticked toward 90 minutes, Radio Cymru's announcer became more and more rapturous. He was at times incoherent. My favourite moment came when the match's four minutes of added play were announced.

"Pedair munud! O, bobl bach! Pedair munud o artaith!" he screamed ("Four minutes! Oh, Jesus Joseph and Mary! (h) Four minutes of torture!").

Cardiff, the city that so many Welsh speakers are keen to disinherit, is now in the good books. This morning on Radio Cymru, First Minister Rhodri Morgan stated that a Cardiff City win would be more important than the Welsh rugby team's recent capturing of the Six Nations Grand Slam title. And other people were eager to suggest that Cardiff's prominence would be a boon for the Welsh language, despite the fact that Cardiff City can't spell its name in Welsh.

The next few weeks should be interesting as we get closer and closer to the actual match. I will be working on suppressing any natural desire to cheer for Portsmouth. I am resigned to jump on the Cardiff City bandwagon. Indeed, today I plan to buy a Cardiff City scarf. If you're going to superficially cheer a team simply because you don't want to get beat up by its supporters, you might as well do so in style.

-----

(a) I used to listen to England matches online when I lived in the United States, and one thing that struck me was Green's strange contempt for Beckham. Occasionally he would just blurt out, apropos of nothing: "And David Beckham has done nothing!"

(b) A beauty of the British system is that if your team is shit, it gets dropped to a lower division. Imagine if, after sucking it up for a year, the Miami Dolphins were dropped down play against college teams.

(c) Cúchulainn is a Celtic folk hero: A king who once fought off an entire army on his own.

(d) Welsh rugby team Ospreys were beaten 19-10 Sunday.

(e) Welsh rugby team Cardiff Blues were beaten 41-17 Sunday.

(f) Cardiff won the FA Cup in 1927.

(g) "We shall rise again." It is the motto of the comically inept Free Wales Army, a 1960s Welsh republican movement that was headed by a man authorities described as having "a mental age of about 12 years."

(h) That's a figurative translation. Literally, "bobl bach" means "little people." It is usually shouted in moments of frustration. I have always assumed it to have a folklore connection, cursing fairies (little people) for things going wrong.

How The Super Bowl Looks Abroad

My latest column is out. If you read my blogging of the Super Bowl, the themes will be familiar but they are better fleshed out.

My favourite part is the observation that: "rugby... is what football used to be before being taken over by figure skaters. American football is so laden with rules and technicality that is at times more performance than sport. Yes, I realize you need to be fit to run really fast and catch a ball, but is it a real test of mental and physical capacity when you're allowed to stop every 15 seconds and do the Charleston?"

Fourth quarter

EDIT: If you're the sort of person who likes to read in chronological order, before reading this post first go through these:
- First quarter
- Second quarter
- Halftime
- Third quarter
- OK, now read the post below

15:00 - Sweet Jesus Joseph and Mary. I am so tired. I hate the NFL. Why am I forcing myself to watch this game?

14:52 - They're showing "celebrities" now, including Frank Caliendo. Is there anyone in Britain who knows who that guy is?

13:53 - Hey Bradshaw, run it into the pile.

13:12 - Hey Bradshaw, run it into the pile.

11:50 - Hey Bradshaw, run it into the pile.

11:05 - Touchdown. 10-7 Giants. I will never understand what the hell "play action" means. I love seeing Tom Brady look miserable. Tom Brady is great for me to poop on.

10:59 - Eli Manning looks like a 17-year-old boy. A really stupid 17-year-old boy. If I saw him at Starbucks, I would walk down the street to another Starbucks because he would be the sort of person to hand you a cold hot chocolate.

9:36 - I am so tired. I have been watching this game for three days.

9:20 - The San Diego Chargers and the New Orleans Saints are the teams playing in London in October. How shit is that?

8:21 - Why do the refs have tight athletic shirts? Is that really necessary?

4:12 - I'm disturbed by Sterling Sharpe: "Randy Moss is a very cute route runner."

2:42 - Now 14-10 Patriots. I hate Randy Moss. I hate him. I also hate that for the last 20 minutes there have been less than 3 minutes on the clock. What day is it? Where am I?

1:26 - I think it's May now. Please send help.

1:04 - Holy shit. That was the best play ever. Manning shook off a certain sack then threw into hardcore coverage to get down the field some 20 yards. Almost certainly he will fumble the next snap.

0:51 - Or get sacked.

0:35 - Holy shit. A proper comeback. Now 17-14 Giants. It's like a football game that's actually worth watching. A Super Bowl that lives up to its hype.

0:29 - I am going to be pissed if this game goes to overtime. For the love of Pete, let me sleep.

0:19 - I love seeing Tom Brady get sacked!

0:01 - That's game Hendrix. There's still a second left on the clock and I'm surprised NFL rule mongers haven't forced everyone off the field for the sake of kicking the ball. I don't care. I'm going to bed. It is 3:07 a.m.

Third quarter

15:00 - I am so tired. It's 1:40 Why does this game have to air so late? They could have scheduled it to air at noon on the West Coast and it would have aired at a reasonable time in the UK. I hate you NFL.

14:26 - Did I mention I want to kick Dick Stockton in the teeth for his "New England, old England" comment?

11:00 - Again I find myself annoyed by NFL rule-mongering. Some guy is 6 inches from making it off the field and the Patriots throw a red flag. Ass. Hat.

10:22 - That ref has a certain show choir nature in his hand signals.

8:36 - Hey Maroney, run it into the pile.

7:18 - I love seeing Tom Brady get sacked.

6:43 - If you're only leading by 4, why would you not try to kick a field goal? Patriots are cocky tards.

5:22 - Hey Bradshaw, run it into the pile.

4:00 - That trick never works. The hail Mary pass is only successful in films. Why do they insist on doing that stuff?

3:12 - Randall Gay has got to be the suckiest name ever. His name is a description: randy gay.

3:04 - False starts are lame. Get rid of that rule, too. Who came up with all these crap rules? It's as if the whole thing was laid out by figure skating judges.

0:14 - Again with the false start nonsense. I'm happy to see the Patriots screw themselves, but this is so lame.

0:06 - Tom Brady looks like he's going to cry. Maybe I should kick him in the teeth.

Halftime

- I just thought of that "New England, old England" comment again. Cripes, I want to hurt that guy.

- When I used to live in Ballard Hall on the campus of the learning institution formerly known as Moorhead State University there was a guy across the hall who would play Tom Petty really loud when he and his girlfriend were having sex. It was disturbing. Seriously mind-scarring. Needless to say, this halftime show is taking me to a bad place.

- Does Tom Petty have different songs? Or are they all the same song with pauses in between?

- Do they really need monkey men in front of the stage? I'll bet a fair amount of money that all the people allowed on the field to be Tom's audience have been security checked to hell. There's no need for stage security.

- At the end of the halftime show, the English guy on the BBC's colour commentary team said, dryly: "It's about half past 1 in the morning back in the UK right now. I'm sure the fans back home are really glad they stayed up for that."
I love this guy.

Second quarter

- It's 7-3 Giants now. Didn't Laurence Maroney play for University of Minnesota? Presumably I could Google that information, but I won't. Where's Eric when I need him? Or Dan? Or Anthony?

- The NFL will play another game in the UK, apparently. They were just promoting the thing and the American commentator (Dick Stockton) said: "The British fans love the Patriots. I think because the word 'England' is the title -- New England, old England."
I want to kick that guy in the teeth.

- I want to kick Tom Brady in the teeth, too. But that's just for being Tom Brady.

- For fuck's sake. If the NFL were to outlaw celebration dances by defensive players this game would be over by now. Just play the damn game. I mean, a defensive player is supposed to defend. If he does defend, he's doing his job, which he is paid a bajilizilimon dollars for. I want to see normal people pumping their fists and jumping about when they simply do their job. The next time I take a taxi somewhere, I want the driver to get out and make six-shooters with his fingers every time he successfully navigates a roundabout.

- Now the announcers are kissing Randy Moss' ass. I definitely want to kick them in the teeth.

- When those of you playing along at home go to commercial, we watching the BBC get a collection of colour commentary guys including former Oakland Raider Rod Woodson. There's a random English fellow who clearly thinks that Tom Petty is the most crap Super Bowl entertainment ever. I'm inclined to agree.

- The BBC guys just described NFL football as "basically rugby league with two fewer players." Yeah, I hate rugby league.

- I sure wish these defensive players would celebrate more. They should stop mid-play to celebrate.

- How many people does that stadium hold?

- Remember "Jock Rock"? Whatever happened to playing "Rock n' Roll Pt. II" before everything? Now that I think of it, I've heard no ridiculous background music during this game. Phoenix is dropping the ball, yo.

- Way to go, Giants. Run it into the pile.

- Randy Moss looks like a homeless man. If only.

- Why can't you bat the ball? Who the hell cares if you bat a fumble? This game has too many rules.

- Good name for a band: The Illegal Bat

- They just promoted the NFL in the UK again. You wouldn't have thought that the words "British Prime Minister Gordon Brown" would be all that hard to say, but Dick Stockton pondered over them the way my dad stumbles over Welsh words. Immediately afterward, Stockton had no trouble saying: "Oh look, Pamela Anderson."

- Tom Brady looks like a Disney teen film version of a quarterback.

- Dick Stockton: "I think at this point the Patriots know they are in a game."
It would be funny if they didn't.

First quarter

I'm up and watching the Super Bowl tonight and blogging it because... uhm... I can.

I haven't watched or paid attention to NFL football since the last Super Bowl, so I've spent the first quarter paying attention to the various rosters. Junior Seau is still alive?! Randy Moss plays for the Patriots? And I thought it was impossible for me to hate them more.

After a weekend of watching Six Nations rugby, I'm having trouble getting into this. When the ref called pass interference I was baffled. What? That's pass interference? He just sort of stuck his hands out. You can do that in rugby. And then rip his head off.

25-21

Twelve points down and only five minutes left -- why did we take a penalty kick over kicking for touch and attempting a try? My only guess is that the USA knew it was going to lose and decided that a nine-point loss was better than a 12-point loss.

As it happens, we only lost by four. The 25-21 final score is respectable but not what I think the USA was capable of. They didn't seem to start playing rugby until the second half. As usual, we suffered from a lack of experienced players and intelligent strategy (why did Ngwenya not get the ball more?). The USA seems to split between playing a game designed for two types of team -- a power team and an endurance team. It is neither at the moment. It's frustrating because our next and final match is against South Africa and only the most deluded fan would think we could win that one.

(Although, Tonga performed well against South Africa and we performed well against Tonga...)

I'm sure my neighbours will be looking at me funny for a while, because I was screaming at the television throughout the second half. Hopefully they were able to figure out that I was screaming at rugby and not just stomping around my living room in a homicidal rage.

I think the thing that frustrates me most is the number of guys in the United States who don't make the NFL cut who would make brilliant rugby players (assuming they improved their fitness and learned to check their egos a bit). I hate New Zealand so much and it just twists a knife in my gut to know that I come from a country that could present a team to destroy the All Blacks, but doesn't.

You cut me USA. You cut me deep

I am presently watching the USA lose to Samoa and I am in a rage. Why do we even show up to this fucking thing?

I've been thinking about this a lot over the World Cup. There are so many minnow teams who have to break their backs and their bank accounts just to attend a World Cup, only to get thrashed by a bunch of pro teams. I realise that there is a certain poetic justice to the USA getting slammed around in international competition, but you have to wonder: what's the point?

U-S-A

A while back, I suggested that if the United States could score a try against either England or South Africa, they could go home feeling that their campaign had been successful.

With only one match played, the United States' World Cup campaign has been successful.

A 28-10 defeat doesn't really leave one screaming "Do you believe in unlikelihoods?!", but today's USA vs. England match turned out better than I think anyone could have realistically hoped.

First off, we scored a try. Tongan-born Utah resident* Matekitonga Moeakiola trundled across the try line in the 74th minute, which leads to another reason to be happy. In the final, most exhausting minutes of the match, the United States, with only a handful of pro players, appeared more fit and into the match than England's all-pro squad.

Earlier in the day, Japan (the only team the U.S. has ever beat in the history of the World Cup) was clobbered 91-3 by Australia and New Zealand stomped all over Italy 76-14 -- it was generally expected that the United States would meet a similar fate. But instead they held England off and forced them to treat the U.S. as a legitimate threat (something France failed to do against Argentina the night previous). Even the blatantly pro-England announcers found themselves forced to extend respect to the U.S. team by the end of it.

The U.S. should now go into its match against Tonga with a tremendous amount of confidence. Tonga is beatable for them. Afterward, a win against Samoa is unlikely, but not impossible. If those two things happened, though, it would be the Eagles' most successful World Cup ever. Right now it feels just barely maybe possible.

The USA-South Africa match, however, is almost certainly going to be brutal. I think the U.S. goal for that one should simply to avoid getting any players killed.

*Hmm, Tongan-born Utah resident. What religion's he then? Holla, Mormons.

The tragedy and glory of men

I've mentioned before that the Welsh love poetry. I've had a few people try to disprove me by pointing out that they don't like poetry, but that is simply because another thing that is true of the Welsh is that they are naturally contrary.

The fondness for verse was again on display this week. Where else but Wales would they have a television programme that mixes poetry and rugby?

On Tuesday, BBC 2 aired a programme called "Rugby: Poetry in Motion." Featuring poems by Phil Carradice, Gillian Clarke, Kathryn Gray, Paul Henry and Owen Sheers, it was little more than half an hour of slow-motion shots of rugby players set to dreamy voiceover.

What's strange is that it worked. It shouldn't have. When someone refers to the fullback position as "midwife and curator," and suggests that it is an allegory for Western culture, that should cause you to throw things at the TV. But I sat there watching and writing down phrases and thinking: "Ooh, I wish I had come up with that line."

The poems focused on the various field positions, the team, and the game as a whole, making it all sound as if rugby were a part of the eternal struggle. Having played rugby, I suppose that in a simplistic and ridiculous way, there is truth to that -- a lot of my personal philosophy derives from my short time of having my ass kicked on a weekly basis.

So far, I can only find two of the poems online: Sheers' "Flankers" and Gray's "Prop," which I think may be incomplete from what I remember of the broadcast. Neither of the poems have my favourite lines, one of which I used for the headline of this post.

I also like:
- The poem referring to the time in which a player stares into the sky waiting to receive a kick as "the dazzling light between birth and death."
- The poem that described the scrum as "the mud and bone." Seriously, how bad-ass is that?

But easily, the best was the poem that started with the line: "I felled a tree with my bare hands."

Fuck yeah.

I tried to imagine something similar being done in the United States; it would fail miserably. I suppose Quincy Troupe could pull it off*, but he'd be the only one and then he'd be dropped as soon as they found out he hadn't really played varsity in high school**. Troupe, by the way, is one of only three living American poets that I can name off the top of my head -- the other two being May Angelou and Henry Rollins. Unless you count Common, which you probably should, because he's the bloke who came up with "Doing all she can for her man and a baby/ Driving herself crazy like the astronaut lady."

For those of you in Wales who missed it, "Rugby: Poetry in Motion" airs again on BBC 2 Wales, Wednesday 12 September at 10 p.m.

*The camera work here makes me want to kill. Just close your eyes and listen to the poem.

** I doubt anyone will get that reference without a Google search.

Fair play

Those of you playing along at home may not know this, but the World Athletics Championships are currently taking place in Osaka, Japan. This is the major competition that Olympic athletes compete in when there are no Olympics.

In the United States, this is never televised. But here, where they televise sheep dog trials and air racing and darts, athletics is receiving pretty extensive coverage. It's refreshing. Arguably, people of the United States are a bit silly in that they suddenly care about the Olympics and forget all about these sports in the space between.

Also refreshing is the British attitude toward the sports. If you watch Olympics coverage in the United States, the general attitude is that there's not much point in watching unless an American is going to win (or, it's figure skating/gymnastics). It's similar to Eric's response to may taking part in various organized runs: "Did you win? No? Then what's the point?"

If such an attitude were held in Britain, of course, Olympics and World Athletics coverage would consist of "Allo, Allo" repeats. No -- here, they tend to go on about personal bests and how an athlete has improved over their past performances. All of which sounds like a load of rubbish until you see Jessica Ennis absolutely delighted with a fourth-place finish. And then you think: "Hey, good for her! She's a normal person."

I can't imagine there are too many people in their right mind* who attend the Twin Cities marathon thinking: "I'm going to win this thing." Most people are happy to simply take part or improve upon their own performances. For example, when I run in the Cardiff Half Marathon in a month, I'll be happy to equal or better my performance in the Fargo Half Marathon. Actually, I may not even do that well. I won't care, though, because I'll be more focused on the fact that Elisa, Donal and Isobel will be in town and I get to go to the pub with them afterward.

Anyway, there's something to be said for this mindset of personal bests. Britain's goal for the entire World Athletic Championships is to walk away with three medals -- colour is irrelevant.

Sometimes you need to judge athletic performance on something more than whether you win or lose. I found myself thinking about this today whilst watching France comfortably destroy Wales in rugby.

Those of you playing along at home will probably be equally unaware that the Rugby World Cup is less than two weeks away. In this rugby-intense country, though, they've been thinking about it since... well, since the last World Cup.

It may surprise you to learn that the United States has a rugby team, and that it has qualified for every World Cup, including this one. As a matter of fact, the United States has held the Olympic gold medal in rugby since 1924 (although, that has more to do with the fact that rugby hasn't been in the Olympics since 1924**). But they're unlikely to make much of an impression this time around.

All the teams with a realistic shot at the cup have rosters of entirely professional players. That's not so much the case for the Yanks. In terms of players in top-level teams, the United States has really only got Mike MacDonald, who plays for Leeds Carnegie, and Paul Emerick who plays for Newport Gwent -- my nickname for him is "Viking."

To make things worse, the United States is the lowest-ranked in its pool of South Africa, England (to whom the United States suffered the biggest defeat in its history -- 106-8), Samoa and Tonga. In short, we're going to get killed.

So, obviously the United States needs to approach the competition from a different mindset. They need to set a few realistic targets and if those are achieved, they can walk away claiming to have had a "successful World Cup." Winning a match would qualify as a successful World Cup campaign in my eyes; scoring a try against England or South Africa would qualify as an extremely successful World Cup campaign.

I've decided that Wales needs to approach the World Cup with the same mindset. The fact that they have only beat one proper team in the last year is indicative of a team that's not going very far in World Cup. I have already accepted this, I am emotionally prepared for the possibility of Wales losing to Japan; their failure won't affect my enjoyment of the World Cup. But I am trying to think what could realistically be considered a successful World Cup for this team.

Wales is a team that won Six Nations with a grand slam a few years back. With most of the players that accomplished that feat still on the roster, this should be a team with a real chance. For whatever reason, that's wholly unrealistic. So, what good can they get from this World Cup? What challenges can they set that are both legitimate yet achievable challenges?

*There are a surprising number of people participating in marathons, though, who are not in their right mind.

**The story of the 1924 Olympics is one of my favourites. The United States played France in the final. At the time, the rules of rugby weren't exactly set in stone and a game's time would fluctuate depending on the mood of the teams. The Americans asked for a 90-minute match because they suspected they were more fit, and the French agreed because they were the 20-to-1 favourites to win and they wanted to put on a good show for the Paris crowd. The Americans then proceeded to beat the living hell out of the French, scoring five tries, and breaking the arm of a French winger. The French crowd were in an uproar by the end of it and somehow one of the French reserves was knocked unconscious by a walking stick amid the ruckus. When the U.S. national anthem was played, it was booed vociferously by the 30,000-strong French crowd.

Yeah, but how many times has he been on Radio Cymru?

I'm a bit behind the curve on this one, but, dude, a guy I went to high school with is coach of an NFL team. Meanwhile, I had to ask my dad for money last week. Yeah, things are going just great.

Thank you, Lord

Admittedly, I'm not truly Welsh, but I think I can speak for all the people here when I say: "Thank you, Lord, for Duncan Jones and his ability to make a tackle."

If we're honest, Wales is not going to beat France next week, which meant that this week was Wales' best chance of going into World Cup with at least one win after the record defeat to England. Without Duncan there to strip the ball from Durand, it would have been a draw and the Western Mail would be calling for a Nicolae Ceausescu-style removal of Gareth Jenkins from the coaching job.

The thing that baffles me is that the commentators were on about him having to compete for the No. 1 shirt. Who the hell are they watching? Duncan's got good hands, he's a forward that backs can't get past and when the players have to be lead by children onto the field he's the only one who actually talks to them. And, sometimes he cries when he sings the national anthem. Duncan is the shiznit.

Ish, Richard

What the hell is that? I hope the London Olympics committee didn't pay too much for it. Their graphic designer had clearly spent the weekend before making this watching "Fame" over and over and over.

Can't blog. Sleepy

Throughout the Super Bowl the NFL hyped the fact that a regular season game will be played in London (the game is supposed to be played at Wembley, so it may end up being played in Cardiff). Despite this apparent desire to expand to the European market, the Super Bowl didn't kick off until 23:25 UK time. So I am very, very tired.

Go Colts.

Cut that meat!

Holy shit, Payton Manning can actually win an important game. My dad would probably tell you that this is a clear sign the Republican-controlled Congress was holding him back.

(The headline refers to this advert)

Becks

Here's another thing about Britons: they are more conformist than we are in the United States. They're not all crazy lockstep or anything, but one does find that in many cases there is almost always an unquestioned prevailing viewpoint.

I'm not talking about political thinking necessarily -- every nation has its insufferable share of people who are doggedly liberal or conservative despite any evidence. I am referring more to the way people here will view various elements of pop culture.

For example, the David Beckham deal. The line of thinking on this is that Beckham is a washed-up footballer who has effectively given up on the game and is content to milk his fame for all it's worth in a soccer backwater.

Add to this the fact that he's English and I'm not winning any new mates by admitting that I actually like Beckham (he influenced my choice of shaving razor). And I think his move to Los Angeles could turn out to be a stroke of brilliance.

If you were to walk up to average Americans and ask them to name a professional soccer player, I suspect the top three answers would be something along the lines of:
- "Soccer is boring. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to watching NASCAR and golf on television."
- "Oh, you know, that one red-headed guy."
- "David Beckham"

I was still in the United States during World Cup 2006 and when I went to the pub to watch the matches, all the England shirts had Beckham's name on them. In my experience working for the Global Media Conspiracy, Beckham was the only player ever mentioned by U.S. media outlets. With the exception of those shown during MLS matches, Beckham was the only professional soccer player to appear in adverts on U.S. television. NBC, ABC, and CBS all ran the story of his signing with the Galaxy. Sports Illustrated carried as its top story this morning and ESPN had the story prominently displayed on its front page. If anyone is going to draw attention to the game in the U.S., it's going to be him.

Beckham has style and Americans respond to that -- sometimes more than actual skill. Jermaine Wiggins and Wally Szczerbiak could tell you that. And that one red-headed guy, Alexi Lalas, general manager for the Galaxy, understands it, too.

There are a lot of Americans who will never like soccer and a lot who will never take a full interest (I haven't decided whether I fall into this second category*). But, Beckham will bring exposure that will help fuel the slow progression of the game in the United States. I have already predicted that USA will win the World Cup in my lifetime. If that happens sooner than later, Beckham will be able to sit back and say: "See, I made that happen." It's certainly a greater legacy than he would ever achieve playing in Europe or a chronically underperforming England side.

It's clear that this is something Beckham is hoping for -- he has said almost as much. And I think he is sincere in wanting to promote the game, having set up the Beckham Academy a year and a half ago.

Beckham also has, you know, talent. He's still in his prime playing years and he's a better player than England fans will admit. So, it's not like he's Ric Flair. People drawn by Beckham's star power will see a player of top quality.

Hopefully that quality will rub off on some of his fellow players (I'm looking at you, Landon Donovan, you fucking slacker) and, by extension raise the level of U.S. play. But he's not exactly stepping into the "Mickey Mouse League" that I've seen described on a lot of UK discussion boards. Like Brazil, England and several other sides, USA underperformed in the most recent World Cup but it did have flashes of brilliance. Their battle against Italy was intense.

Americans don't tend to respond well to the idea that they should do something just because everyone else does (you know, like care about the environment), so Beckham faces a pretty massive task in popularizing the game. He's not helped by the fact that the Galaxy have the gayest name in all of professional sport**.

But I would like to see him succeed. I would also like to see his wife eat something, but that's less likely. Ideally this would result in a team that could legitimately compete against a top European team. Lalas has said his goal is to create an "MLS super-club." The top UEFA teams regularly travel to the United States in the summers to put on exhibition matches -- I'm sure someone somewhere is already salivating at the idea of putting one of these teams up against the Galaxy.

*It is, at least, in my top three: rugby, American football, soccer.

**MLS was started in the heyday of late-90s political correctness, and the names of the older clubs reflect the desperate attempt to avoid upsetting anyone: the Galaxy, the Wizards, the Rapids. In addition to gay team names, the MLS also carries the distinction of having the gayest logo in professional sports, a team with the most half-assed sell-out name ever and a inclination toward pointless gimmicks.