Ding Ding! Round 3

First the news that Jacob's season is over, as they lost their semi-finals on Saturday. They were one down, then equalised in the 2nd half, so it went to extra time. At that point Keiitchi and I (the coaches) put Max, one of our best players who we'd convinced to play the last few games in defence, up front. The defence collapsed, as we have seen before when we've done the same thing. As Jacob reprimanded, "It wasn't a risk Dad - it was just a mistake." I have to agree with him, and in the proper order of things, we coaches take full responsibility for the loss.

But the boys had a great season and have all grown as players and as young men. God knows I've learned a lot as well. And the Indoor season starts next month, so the round ball rolls on.

I'm enjoying this tipping competition. Clearly in the first round we were virtually guessing as we could have got more correct results by a random result generator (we got 11 of 44 results right between us). In the second round we did much better - 18 of 56 possible correct results (I'm not talking about scores) - but it's still interesting that a bunch of die-hard soccer fans couldn't quite get a third of the results correct, with essentially 3 choices for each call. The random generator would still have been odds on to beat us. Surely as the season goes on and we get familiar with the teams and their form, we can do much better.

An advantage of tabulating the scores is that you can see the patterns, and of course it's the games we completely fail to predict en masse which are the important ones to note. We collectively found Central Coast's win and the draw between Newcastle and Queensland very predictable, and although some of us called it each way, not one of us picked that Sydney and Adelaide would draw. Especially as this comp is between a bunch of folk who allegedly have some idea of what we're talking about, it's interesting data. Thankfully as well it's a much bigger sample than last year, but there were patterns last year as well, which were not easy to spot without a clear table, so for posterity I've tabulated last years comp as well. You can find it by clicking the 'Season 2' tab at the top of the Blogger's Cup Table. I've got a little bit more to do on it and I'll get to it soon.

Wes, Mike, Wayne and Dave have already tipped Round 3 in comments on the Round 2 post.

My tips:
Queensland vs Central Coast Mariners
Roar 3:2
Another bloody Thursday night game - at 8pm! Jacob has school in the morning. Don't worry our priorities are clear and we'll be there. I've instructed Jacob to get his weekly homework done tonight and Wednesday.

Adelaide vs Melbourne
Adelaide 2:0
Melbourne will recover I reckon and start to kick some ass in round 5 or 6. Adelaide have hit the ground running and aren't going to stumble yet. I have no idea why I think that, and if history is a guide my predictions are approximately as accurate as a random generator would be.

Perth vs Sydney
1:0
Sydney are in danger of gaining this reflexive underdog-supporter's sympathy for the problems with their troops. I think they have some hubris issues though.

Wellington vs Newcastle
2:1
If anyone can help, I'm very, very keen to bookmark an amateur A-League blog from Wellington. If they're what they're promising, the fans should generate a blog or two before long if they haven't already.

Good luck everyone.

It says at the top of this page that I'm a philosopher so I better occasionally say something philosophical. It also says I'm probably mad - a crucial qualifier.

Why do I pray to the infinite? Well there are in the annals of humanity thousands of gods, all mentally graven images (thus, incidentally, false idols according to the second of the 10 commandments). There is only one infinite and it is quite clearly incomprehensible, undescribable and, to add to the anxiety of it all, all-powerful.

Often atheists, who are generally very spiritually thoughtful people, choose not to pray at all, but I think they lose something. It's my view - barely defensible in a scientific way I admit - that the evolution of our mental equipment went alongside the development of early religion, and that those creatures who could, as their consciousness radically expanded, make some peace with this unknown 'other', so enormous and frightening, by finding a connection with it, however false in the eyes of many moderns, tended to survive because they were less inclined to go mad. It may offend some, but I find it interesting that the first tenet of AA and other addiction management organisations (of which I've never been a member, but know some who are very gratefully so) is to embrace the idea of a superior being. Meanwhile however the 'infinite' is a completely rational, secular idea which we can clearly and succinctly fail to grasp. If no one else finds it a useful mechanism to get through life, that's fine because I do.

I pray to the infinite (ok, I call it God in my own space, because it's shorter and I know what I mean) every day. Usually the prayer is "Hello," but sometimes I also say, "Thanks." It certainly can't 'hear' me, but my active mental acknowledgment of the all-powerful unknowable everything, I sincerely believe, actually facilitates a successful dance with the universe - by which I just mean getting through with a smile, and even - this is ridiculous of course and I only have an intuitive accumulation of anecdotal evidence to go by - having serendipity and 'luck' work a little extra my way. I don't understand the universe at all, but I suspect there's a little more to its connectivity than we think. Being mentally alien to it is a bad risk I reckon.

Religion, in my humble view, is to madness what masturbation is to rape, and what soccer is to tribal warfare. It's an arbitrary civilised cultivation of the creative fulfillment of a need which goes back hundreds of thousands of years of evolutionary psychology.

Please forgive my indulgence here, and I am not an evangelist. It's quite irrelevant to me whether anyone gives two shits about my philosophical viewpoint.

To the infinite, may all the A-League games this week be fair with flair, may there be good sportsmanship on and off the field and may there be no serious injuries.

More Grassroots Football

What a weekend. Bloody great, bloody sore.

Saturday was one of the best days I can remember. I've put a lot of work into Jacob's team. I don't have any official status but the Coach has got me assisting him, which seems to work very well. I've known most of the kids for a long time and I'm very happy to say they respect me, so my main role there seems to be getting them to listen to the coach, who is I think quite brilliant, but (Japanese) doesn't speak English expertly and is very quiet. Meanwhile I also assist the Manager, Jim, who hasn't been around much for various insurmountable reasons so yesterday I was the acting Game Manager anyway. Yesterday, being the first game, there was a lot to do, and it was sort of my baby. That's enough introduction to my unique role with these kids.

They are the El Salvador U12s. They won 5:2. That would have made my week as is, but Jacob scored the first goal and it was a cracker. He had to race the goalie of the opposition (Hawks) for a long ball which was heading for the right corner of the box (Jacob was playing right-mid). The goalie hesitated in his run which was a fatal error, but still nearly made it. Jacob slid in for the ball and touched it once. It rolled past the goalie, and kept rolling - it was not a heavy kick - I swear it took about five minutes for the ball to roll to the goal mouth. It hit a bump and looked like it would miss. It hit another bump and found its way back on course... just. Hit the far post, and crossed the magic line.

In indoor soccer over the summer Jacob has managed to score (I think) four goals, one of which was his first ever (he has played two seasons before this one). Two of these were in one game which was pretty cool. Then in three friendlies (against U13 teams) leading up to this season he scored twice, once each in two of the games. But this one was his first outdoor goal in official competition. And it was the first goal of the season. And it was a cracker. Can you tell? I was a proud puppy.

In the second half Jacob scored another goal, off a beautiful ball from his mate Stavros, who was also on the Indoor team, The West End Terrorists. Does being a soccer Dad get better than this? Does football get better than this? I can't think so.

Before I move on, an important note is that the team seemed much more skilled and tight than last season, and quite clearly this was coming largely from the six players that played Indoor over the summer. A lot of the kids on the field hadn't played much soccer for six months. That showed. Summer Indoor is recomended I reckon.

Today I played my second real competition game, on the left wing of the 4-5-1 formation I described in my last post. The game time had been changed at the last minute and we ended up lucky to have 11 players, so we had no subs. Especially as the game was played at 12.00 midday, it was torture every time the other team shouted, "If you're tired, sub off." We held a nil all draw 'till half time, then, largely through exhaustion (our average age is about 38) we proceeded to lose 4:nil.

For myself, I didn't embarass myself too much, and got some nice balls away. For the team, despite the comprehensive loss, we felt our strategy was as good as we could get, so we're going to stick with it. The brief from our captain at the beginning of the game was to hold the ball up and concentrate on short passes in our triangles, even if that (apparently) meant scoring less. For the season our medium term strategy is to get good at this style of play, and we actually feel it had started to gell very well in the first half, before we virtually stopped running. So we're sticking with the game plan.

It was the first time I have played for 90 minutes, and I relate to what Wayne said in a comment about lungs trying to work their way out of your mouth. And yes, it was exhilerating anyway. Once again I loved every bloody minute.

After this a few of us had some beers and in a moment of madness decided to go to the afternoon kick-about as well. Now I'm really stuffed, but I kicked the winning goal ("It's getting dark; last goal wins") so I'm happy enough.

Great weekend. I love football.

Blogging some Bollocks

Yeah, I know I haven't really been on the blog, and I know everyone is still talking about the A-League. I reckon it's cool that Sydney have been knocked out, as they deserve in my view, but I haven't been watching the games, and have been content to read the analysis from Mike, Tony, John, Cecilia and Wayne.

I've also gotten a bit involved in the discussions over at the Queensland Roar Supporter's Forum. I'll do a bit of an analysis of that one day perhaps. Right now suffice to say that when it comes to "Why I hate Sydney?" I just don't relate. I don't even think it's funny.

Increasingly I'm thinking that it is hatred that is the irrational demon in our game. For all its glory, beauty and transcendental spectacle, is is just me who can see that football doesn't mean anything at all? That is, it means EVERYTHING of course, but meanwhile it means nothing at all. That's Football's superiority as a religion: unlike other religions, there is no pretense that some universal incontrovertability is underlying it. Unlike with other religions, there is no claim that football is not an earthy institution completely contrived and constantly corrupted by humans. Unlike with other religions, at the end of the day we can have a beer and a laugh with our most bitter enemies. I don't hate Sydney. I'm just bloody pleased that they're out.

For the handful of longer-term followers of this particular blogscape, The West End Terrorists are back for their second season, which is just a snappy two months ending with a finals day between the top four on the 31st March, just in time for the winter soccer to begin. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, the The Terrorists are the indoor soccer team my son is part of, and which I manage.

Last week they began well with a 3:2 win over The Hogz, but unfortunately this week (yesterday - Sat - morning) they were defeated with the same score, by AC Milan. Personally I blame school 'leadership' camp, where after being expected to go to sleep in cabins full of old mates at 8.30pm, the rest of the night is a bitter and exhausting conflict between adults and children, finally resolved by corporal deprivations of enforced standing still and quiet outside for hours. I remember that crap from when I was a kid and I still think it sucks. The kids got back Friday night and needless to say they were all quite stuffed.

Meanwhile the world is full of the beauty of our game and institution. For Brisbane folk, the kick-about continues every Sunday at 4.30pm at South Leagues Club. Last week we got up to 12 a side. The real over-35s competition looms, which will be my first organised competition since I was about 8. But tomorrow, for the sheer hell of it really, I'm also going to a kick about in the morning with the Roar supporters crew, at Tarragindi. Might be an interesting thing. I've learned heaps about watching the game by playing it, and for any football tragic with even a modicum of health and fitness, I think it is compulsory. You've just got to kick one of those balls occasionally.

And there is always, always football games to watch. For the last two Saturdays, cheaper than Fox and more convenient than Suncorp, I've watched games down at the local pitch at El Salvador Soccer Club. 20 or 30 fans, not including the birds, a Corona from the humble little bar run by volunteers, and some wholesome, passionate football. Last week was 'Brazil' vs 'Lebanon'. These were pretty much fully ethnic teams as far as I could tell, screaming at one another out there with their own lingual protocols. Of course I expected the Brazilians to win but they were thrashed by the Mediteraneans. This week was two 'El Salvador' teams, less ethnically based, but with some great individual skill. It was an entertaining 2:2 draw, with a red card and a bit of fire toward the end. Good stuff. You could write volumes about the worse things one could do with a Saturday afternoon.

Football is a religion. It's not just the A-League. It's not for the elite. A part of it will always be a ball of socks on a dusty street in the sun, but it flowers and grows and articulates. It's solace, it's esperanto, it's biophilia, it's love.

A Football Day

G'day. I wasn't going to write anything today, because I missed the game last night anyway and probably won't be watching tonight's either (even though it's on Fox Sport 1, so at least the pubs will have it).

Congratulations to Central Coast though! From the media I've read, it looks like they're back in the Comp. And without wanting to sound unsympathetic to Carbone, we have at least observed the vanity of putting too much hope in a super-striker. Mike Salter over at The Football Tragic is in denial of course, and has chosen to review the fans rather than the game. Forgive me Mike - my ribbing is in good spirit.

But aside from all that A-League nonsense I had a great football day today. I've taken on the mangement of a boys under 12 indoor soccer team, called... um... The West End Terrorists.
They made the name ok, and over some mild protests from the parents, including me, they have had their way. I'm assuming those men in dark suits and sunglasses with funny hearing aids were just interested onlookers.

Anyway, we're a week behind, and some of the kids have never been on an indoor soccer pitch before or kicked one of the oversized tennis balls they use, so they lost 5:1, but they had a hoot. It is really fast and, because they're not allowed to hit it over head height and there's only five to a side on a small court, the ball work and short passing is intense. I was completely impressed, and on a first viewing can only recommend it as an off season game to keep the kids' skills up.

It is at the Brisbane Indoor Sports Centre.

That was this morning, and this evening I went for a run by myself. Look, I'm 38 and haven't tried to keep in shape for about forty years , until becoming addicted to football about a month ago, so when I say 'a run', I mean a bit of running and a bit of walking, down to the river and back.

The route I take takes me through the El Salvador Football Club, and there was a five-a-side game going on. My mate Keitch, who coached Jacob's team the last two seasons, was playing, so I stopped and watched for a bit. Reflecting as I sat, catching my breath and watching these young skilled blokes dance around one another, it occurred to me that football isn't complete without days like today. Kids and locals, kicking about, breathing the air together, with volunteer refs and more pigeons than fans. Call me sentimental. Following the Socceroos and the A-League only enhances this experience for me, just as the local experience brings the quality and professionalism of the former into proper, sharper relief.

I love football. It might have saved my life. In the words of Tim Parks, it has given me "...a new and fiercely ironic way of forming community and engaging with the sacred." (Thanks to commentor Guido for that link.)

Best of luck tonight to the two underdogs New Zealand and Newcastle. Whoever wins, I pray to Saint Johnny Warren that they all play their best football and that there are no injuries.

Cheers.

El Salvador Soccer Club

Well we tried to see the Newcastle vs Mariners game at the Pineapple Hotel, but it was packed and we were overwhelmed by Rugby League on the screens. The food was ok though. "The food was beautiful; it was so nice," is Jacob's retort.

Jacob was also on the money with the score (well, at least the draw part) so maybe his food review is better too.

But today was a big soccer day for us both, and in a way which for me is closer to the real heart of the game than the A-League or even the World Cup. It was our local club's Fun Day and Trophy Presentation, which took us from 11.00am through to 6.00pm.

The El Salvador Club has been growing almost too rapidly in the past few years. It only has one main field and two mini fields, but the club house is great, small but licensed, with a big screen and a pool table. There were eight under 7 teams this year, so that they were obliged to set up an intra-club under 7s competition. It's a bit out of control.

So there were hundreds of people there today, all ages. Parents vs kids games all day, pinyatas and other games, a jumping castle, a dead pig over a fire, free sausages and drinks for all the players and on it went. Apart from meals and drinks it was all free. The club is doing well, and although the day was long, it was joy and community.

One of the keys it seems to the success is that the parents are catered for directly. Friday night training is not a drop-off, but a chance to sit and have a drink with the other parents, with salsa music and very reasonably priced food.

I'm bloody sore after the game between us parents of the under 11s and our kids. We showed no mercy and thrashed them 5:0. Ha! "5 nil, it was not, it was 3 nil," comes from over my shoulder. Anyway, it was fun, and by the end we were all completely stuffed.

And to top it off, I am the proud parent of one of the "most improved player" trophy getters. He deserves it too.

Anyway, the point of all this? This is football. Where a community is not alienated but laughing, talking about life and love, living together in the sun on the grass. This is much more important than Australia winning international games, but it must also be said that it is greatly facilitated by Australia winning international games. I only expect that many clubs in Australia are having successes and growth, and the Socceroos are partly to blame.

And the growth and success of these local clubs can return the favour. It is this grass roots community joy in football that will, in the long term, deliver Australia the World Cup.

Salud, and good night.