50 Knows Football

Yeah, [expletive] Bo Jackson.

Nike should enlist Curtis Jackson, a-k-47-a 50 Cent for their next stateside soccer ad campaign.

In fact, [expletive] Juergen Klinsmann. Make 'Fiddy' the next coach of the USA. He seems to know the basics of football, and best of all has solid know-how to ensure that the game catches (gun)fire in America's concrete jungles.

Click on the [expletive] photo to read an interview with him in the newest Four Four Two. Or check out the story of how Action Jackson Heights became a fan of Jamaica's Reggae Boyz in a roundabout way.

(censorship services by the G-8 Office of Stopping Sh*t.)

Gallagher. On Tevez.

One of the very few interesting areas of the suprisingly low-fi (though hard-hitting) official FIFA World Cup website has been the mercurial 'VIPs Love Football'.

Fittingly, one of the final installments of that section sees two of this publication's favorite people coming together.

Noel Gallagher. Carlos Tevez. 


Now talk amongst yourselves.

ComMunich Manifesto

The overwhelming "gamesmanship" and "sophisticated defenses" that have wrought havoc on the knockout stages has Franz talkin' and Sepp blatterin' about a summit. Yeah, a summit. Nice move. Don't forget to invite Kim Gone-ill and Jorge Dubyah-Bushleaguer. Surely they've got some opinions, too.



One person who also has opinions on making the game more attractive to a stone-cold business-casual observer is the lead singer of the Sheffield UK-based band Arctic Monkeys. This distinguished youth, specifically as a Brit rocker, understands the nuances in how to break into the ellusive hearts-and-minds of the American "market". After all, why wouldn't someone want a fine slice of that microwaveable American Pie, or a sweet sip of that high fructose corn syrup Cool Ade?

The matches should be announced 5 minutes before kick off, in the middle of the night. The players are woken up by a high pressure jet of ice cold lager and have two minutes to put on their boots and pads before being dosed up to the eyeballs on crystal meth and PCP.

Strobe lighting and deafening white noise in the tunnel ensures that they're hopelessly disorientated by the time they line up to sing the national anthems. Any that fluff a line or sing without sufficient gusto fall through trap doors in the pitch and are eaten alive by starving rabid heyenas. These inevitable casualties are replaced by highly efficient but wildly unpredictable mechanoids who can score from 70 yards but are often red carded for brutal sliding tackles that spoil the turf and bisect their opposition. The ball is made from tungsten and the referee's whistle is so loud it can melt lead. The referee himself is a highly intelligent genetically engineered polar bear who can see round corners and doesn't take shit from anyone. Collina's soul is trapped eternally within his pituitary gland. He has 9 different colours of card, from yellow for a caution all the way up to black for disembowelment and banning from the next 5 games. The linesmen are omnipresent.

Each half lasts for 5 hours and the pitch is 7 miles long with terrain varying from greased astroturf to full canopied jungle, interspersed with sand pits, ball pools and active volcanoes. After each goal a hundred strong troupe of naked local teenage girls the action on the pitch, preferring to focus on closeups of the cervixes of the most attractive supporters from some latin american country, even if it's Scotland vs Canada.

If the scores are tied after 10 hours of play, mutagenic chemicals stored in the players' spines is automatically released and they quickly transmute into horrendous lamprey like creatures who rapidly reproduce 7 fold and form an enormous writhing mass of suckers, slime, shredded football atire and hooked teeth. The teams are disbanded, the pitch is flooded with a 50:50 mix of stout and KY jelly. A horrific 5 dimensional game of twister then ensues, with each hideous player trying to force his way around or through his former team mates in an attempt to get as close as possible to the ball, which has now armed the tactical thermonuclear warhead within. The player closest to the ball when it detonates is declared the winner, and his vapourised remains are trapped in a canister and rewarded with the dubious honour of being vaginally inhaled by geriatric Estonian pilgrims who believe (incorrectly) that it will cure them of rickets.

This new version of the beautiful game proves so popular that 95% of the planet's workforce downs tools to spend all of their time watching it on tiny little screens directly inserted into their retinas, and the global economy collapses. With food running short, the blinded population of the planet is soon crawling around on the ground searching for a morsel of edible organic matter as parasites and diseases become pandemic. Brother is soon killing brother for a flake of dried up sm*gma as the planet consumes itself, polluted by discarded plutonium studs and overheated by constant arguments over whether or not something that looks like a giant hagfish with a number 7 on its hairy back can be declared offside when the ball exists in 11 dimensional space he has just eaten the last defender whole.

Forever Pyoungyang

Lets face it, folks.

It simply wouldn't feel like semifinals week at the World Cup without some grandstanding from Kim Jong-Il, now would it?

Didn't think so.

As the corporate media bots keep telling us, the government of North Korea tested a few missile-thingys. But, geez, what's a country without cable television supposed to do with all that spare time in the middle of a long hot summer?

Shockingly, the last time there was a major fracas of this level was exactly four years ago. Just before South Korea played it's final match in the 3rd Place game against Turkey, a jealous Jong-Il was guilty of some Korean-on-Korean crime out on the disputed high sea, in a weak attempt to grab headlines away from the sweet run of the Red Devils.


Interesting event planner, that Jong-Il. Even the squares at the Pentagon mentioned a few weeks ago that the grand leader was going to do some stuff during this World Cup like he did four years ago.

Maybe Kimbo should just get North Korea to qualify for a World Cup. They haven't been there since their surreal run in '66 -- coincidentally the last time Portugal was also in the last four. 

But that would all be too rational.

Naming Rights Going Wrong

If you haven't noticed, it seems most matches in this World Cup are being played at "The FIFA World Cup Stadium" in so-and-so city.

Yes, German sports officials have caught on quite superbly to the All-American skill of commodifying every inch of public space: Welcome to the 'America Online (AOL) Arena' in Hamburg, Germany. Now get used to it.

This is the first World Cup where the issue of corporate naming rights of stadia is an issue. It seems FIFA is suspect about a non-sponsor getting free promotion, but not too interested in the fact that major sporting venues around the world now have names which have nothing to do with the city they're located in, and will change as fast as you can spell E-N-R-O-N.

Not ironically, on the same day that Germany '06 kicked off, the NBA Finals tipped off in the States featuring a series between teams from two different cities which play in the exact same arena name. (the creatively titled 'American Airlines Arena') That was a first in professional sports, and it won't likely be the last.

Very soon, Arsenal FC fans can get excited to cheer on the pride and joy of West London at their posh 'Emirates Stadium' . Expect a new name to call home every three years.

Diving Off the Stamford Bridge

Six unfortunate reasons why we should re-name the Man of the Match award....

Chinese Guys Gone Wild

While the race for the Golden Boot award as the tournament's leading goalscorer enters its final stage, one man in China on Friday made his claim to the Golden Re-boot award.

Said individual bravely reconnected his electronic viewing apparatus before the final whistle despite being rudely interrupted by a little-bitty fire which threatened to torch both his home and the wife and kids.

This is only one of many Outrageous Acts of Hardcore Fandom taking place in China since June 9th. Here are some other tidbits from the land of the rousing sun:

READ CHINA: Government issues guide to enjoying World Cup in moderation
THE AIR UP THERE: Entrepreneaur sells oxygen from German stadiums
RINGATONI: Broadcaster's orgasmic Italian fetish makes ringtone splash
FACE OFF: Medical officials disturbed by numbers of fans hit by facial paralysis

America's Next Landon Donovan

Postcard from Los Angeles....

Life of the Communist Bloc Party

Much brouhaha has been made about this World Cup encouraging a newfound, redefined sense of nationalism for the host nation, one devoid of fascism both off the pitch as well as on it. They can finally forgive themselves for producing Adolf Hitler and Rudi Voeller.

The massive outdoor parties that have been taking place in Berlin at the Brandenberg Gate have been a symbolic reminder of how far things have come.

But relics from the past still remain. And they're not from Germany.

No, we're talking about the ex-Communist countries in this Cup. Teams who clearly lacked a pairostrikers like Poland, the Czech Republic, Croatia, S&M (that's Serbia & Montenegro, you...), and good ol' fashioned Ukraine. These teams produced cynical soccer that hasn't been seen since the '90 Germany squad captained by one Rudi Voeller.

Think about this fact. Those countries combined to score 13 goals through 16 games. Of those sixteen games, they failed to score nary a goal in eleven of them -- and it would have been twelve had it not been for the dubious penalty given to a diving Sheva in their last group match. That's a far cry from when freshly de-walled Romania and Bulgaria took USA '94 by storm.

Anyways. On to more pressing concerns....



No, that's not Ukrainian TV's new sideline reporter. Nor is it Rudi Voeller.

But what's with the Beavis'n'Butthead-era haircuts? All the training pants worn chest-high? The coaching staff looking like judges at a Soviet greco-roman competition? Combined with the over-hyping of Mr. Shevchenko and the appalingly negative Cold War'ish tactics employed on the pitch, it's virtually impossible for a neutral to get on Ukraine's highly radioactive bandwagon.

Such turnoffs don't even negate the fact they'll be playing modern Azzurri sportsmen on Friday.

the+neck+of+Carlos+Tevez

Ever since this site brought up the minor concern of cameramen zooming in on the ravaged neck of Argie bulldog Carlos Tevez, there's been a growing number of people stretching from every corner of the world who've come here after Google'ing about a certain topic.

So if you're here now after their victory over Mexico, and want to find out what the hell happened to his cervix, here's a brief story about Carlitos.

Rest assured they are not hickies.

Spanish Armadafuckas

According to the official Germany '06 website, there are a lot of famous people who we'd be surprised to know are big followers of the World's Game. One of them is Brooklyn homeboy Spike Lee, a filmmaker noted for capturing the themes of civil rights and race relations.

Wonder what Spike would've thought watching Monday's Spain v Tunisia game.

First we saw a couple of Confederate flags waving amongst the Spanish contingent in the stands. It's the same flags we've seen the last few years at the Nou Camp, Bernabeau and venues throughout Spain where brown skinned people are heckled by intoxicated and unemployed cro-magnon bufoons.

Then on the sidelines we had the cantankerous head coach of Spain, Luis Aragones. This fossil attempted to energize his players a while back by instilling some comically Hitleresque racially-tinged motivational speech. One target was Arsenal's Thierry Henry -- coincidentally a good friend of Spike Lee's.

I Have A Dream: One day Barcelona's head coach, with Barcelona's best player, along with Barcelona's second best player, and their best substitute player, get together to form the "International Alliance of Colored/Black Footballers". And just walk off, middle fingers blazing, during the middle of a Champions League or La Liga match. You know what we mean.

Ignorance is everywhere, but what makes the Spain situation particularly bizarre is their pretentions toward being some sophisticated, advanced country. Seeing how diabolically non-chalant and dismissive their authorities (and populace?) are to the actions of their moronic ultras on both club and international level makes their Road to South Africa 2010 an extra long trek indeed.

Powered by Seoul'er Energy

Regardless of the outcome between Korea and France on Sunday, rest assured that the Korean fans will get together in astonishingly large, organized numbers.

Then find good reason to Be the Reds again. And again.


Koreans are good at many things, and one thing they've mass-tered is the art of congregation. Of course we saw it worked to resounding perfection when South Korea hosted the World Cup in 2002. It might also explain some of the Weird Christianity and Weird Music, too. And North Korea's awol government knows a thing or two of squeezing people together in an attempt to make a statement.

Thankfully, the Koreans haven't taken the proverbial foot off the pedal of their Hyundai Sonata V6 ever since.

Over one million hit the streets of Seoul for a 10pm kickoff for a first round, first game against first-time minnows Togo. On a Tuesday. There were also big street gatherings in Los Angeles' bustling Koreatown and other major cities around the world.

Best of all, it's all hooligan and litter-free -- Korean fans, like the Japanese, are famous for cleaning up after themselves. Hopefully they won't forget that virtue.

Access of Evil

Iranians without thick beards and turbans revisited American TV airwaves for the first time in eight years on Sunday, with a matchup against Mexico live from Guadalajara. Okay, Nuremberg. Same damn thing.

The pre-game show on ABC was hosted by Chuck Norris and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Match play-by-play presented by Henry Kissinger alongside color commentator Alan Dershowitz. On-field reporting from Pat Robertson.

Well something like that.

On Monday the U.S. team entered TV-equipped homes in Iran, as they opened up against the Czechs. No word on who the persian broadcast team was over there. But you know they mentioned this gem before Team USA ended up getting nailed in the nuts, 3-0.

That game was televised live in Iran in full terrestrial bliss. In fact all 64 games will be, which usually wouldn't be a big deal but this year it makes the feat an anomaly. Especially in that region.

Being the well-oiled rogue state that it is, Iranian officials are bucking yet another global trend by making the games all available to the public without paying serious cash for it. The only price paid for the state-run telecasts might be the time-delays to allow censors to clear out all images of attractive women and expressions of individual spontaneity.

In a world awash with media-access discrepancies, this is the first World Cup where relaxed FIFA rules on mandatory telecasts by TV rights-holders have come crashing down on the little man, allowing corporate media mo-ghouls space to run amok.

No region has felt the brunt effect of this more than the good people of the MiddlEast. From Israel to Palestine to Lebanon, Morocco to Egypt, Jordan to Iraq, finding a telecast has been as laborious as finding WMDs .

A saving grace could come from a Middleastern-based World Cup corporate sponsor. One just needs to travel a few miles to access the signal.

A Joga Bonito No-No

Surely you've seen them. The whole wide world has seen them. 

Even three inmates at Guantanomo have apparently seen 'em.

It's the Nike 'Joga Bonito' campaign featuring Eric Cantona, going around having fun with a video camera and a rather mediocre script from the copywriters at Wieden-Kennedy.

Questionable choice, methinks.

Firstly. Why would the good folks in Beaverton, Oregon commission the use of Cantona as the spokesperson of the World's Game for the mainstream American market? Our feeble, internationally-challenged nation ("Freedom Fries! Get it?") wouldn't be receptive to a French dude's futile attempts at stoic english - especially when that man usually talks incoherently in his own language.

Non-speaking roles, please. Cantona is a veteran of Nike's World Cup ad campaigns. But they worked because King Eric didn't open his mouth. In '94 he was crashing through skyscrapers, and four years ago was on a Mad Max-like rampage. That was more like it...


Second. Looking like a stiff-necked, Camus-on-doughnuts doesn't actually make you Camus-on-doughnuts. Where does this come from? Cantona was never invited to the French pop-culture intelligentsia; he broke in, just like the commercials.

Third. A man with a disciplinary record like Cantona's shouldn't be introducing us to the sublime skills of the ballerinhas and ballerinhos of Brazil. But then again, he has tried to showcase his own version of on-field acrobatics before...


Said 'doughnuts' quip is partially plucked from the ever-thickening quotebook of Oasis guitarist Noel Gallagher discuss the Beautiful Game in a foul language we can all understand.

Ding-Dong Diplomacy

A couple of interesting events happened simultaneously this past Friday.

Two of God's foremost Chosen Ones, U.S. President George W. Bush and Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, each held ceremonies honoring their respective country's beloved football teams.

Lord, what a difference a century makes.

The last time both Iran and the USA qualified for the World Cup our planet seemed to be in a much more peaceful state. Of course, this was a long, long time ago -- 1998. France. Before all the demagoons took over.

Then, not only were the two teams grouped together (now that's real divine intervention), but prior to the match cool overtures were made. Iran, then headed by a (relatively) pragmatic head of state, splashed out with gifts, flowers and kisses for their counterparts. Meanwhile then-U.S. Prez Bill Clinton recorded a hyperbolic speech and even uttered a couple of words in Farsi prior to the match broadcast.

Ah, cross-cultural engagement. The good ol' days of geopolitics.

Here's a friendly reminder. When one sees headlines in the media like the ubiquitous 'U.S. Wants to Mess With Iran' and 'Iran Tells U.S. to F*ck Off' (paraphrasing, folks...) we're just hearing about feuding governments, not people.

Therefore its annoying to hear the talk about protesting Iran's presence at the World Cup. Especially when it's spearheaded by supporters of a peculiar government that calls itself "the Jewish State" yet avoids The Ten Commandments at every opportunity. Quite sketchy, no?

This 'Iran' we'll see on the field has a lot more to do with actual Iranian people than the 'Iran' we read about virtually all of the time. Time to start taking notes, 'America'.