World football: kids on the loose (II)

Tomorrow is the big day. South Africa 2010. Heaven coming down to earth, as it does every four years. If I were blogging directly from J-bourg, Pretoria, Port Elizabeth, down the Cape around the Tip or any of the townships, today would already be this big D-Day in anticipation to V-Day on July 11.

It's the perfect moment to remember the second golden kid. Diego Maradona: gifted, self-assured, strong, feisty, rebellious, loyal to team mates and to his team, opinionated, a blessing and a curse. A leader. He came to this world to flood it with the beauty of football to the highest pitch of plasticity. Some top ranked coach in Italy used to say: "Thanks God, it's Sunday. It's Maradona Day."

And yet, Maradona was a tragic hero. All the foundational narratives, myths and legends that speak of the mysteries of human life and the divine took up residence in this unique man that keeps on challenging his destiny today that he aims at claiming a top spot as a respectable coach. The divine and the plain human, Cain and Abel, angel and demon, light and darkness, ying and yang, but above all pure passion, love for beauty, all those constructive and destructive forces drive this genius who was once a kid. His temperament didn't help him to surf easily into adulthood. Just check this out:



I am one of those who grew up giving thanks for the blessing of seeing his prodigious left foot unleash terror and awe in foe and friends alike around the globe.

Dieguito was just coming out of his teen years when he touched the sky as a world champion, but by then he had already built a strong reputation as a world class footballer. In the World Coup of Mexico 1986, he created the masterpiece that you can see below. To many the best goal ever was the one that Maradona scored against England after leaving Her Highness's subjects and realm all scattered behind him as he proved to be the unstoppable little giant that snatched the world trophy for his country for the second time. Thanks, Diego, for so much beauty!

World football: kids on the loose (I)

There was a kid way back in 1958 who managed to convince his soccer mom to let him go on bigger adventures as soon as he blew the candles celebrating his 17th birthday. He joined the Brazilian squad in their foray across the Atlantic, took full advantage of his youth, unmatched skills and God given football wisdom that propelled him to the world throne of football and signalled the dawn of a new era. I’m telling you about one of the greatest: the king, Brazil’s Pelé who remains the youngest player ever to play a final and the youngest to be a champion. He scored twice to give Brazil a 5-2 victory over Sweden and its first world title.

If you can put up with the mid-20th century TV technology (and I hope you will), just look at him. A marvel beyond description!

On the road to South Africa.- Soccer? Football?

And here we are, once again! Finally, after four long years the long awaited for whistle will be blown again down in South Africa to kick off a whole month of maddening euphoria around a ball and around the world, from June 11 to July 11.

Not even my humble quarters in Toronto escape from the noise. Home to over 188 different ethnic groups, our streets will be flooded by waving flags, chants and just plain marrymaking regardless who scores and who gets scored. All the chatty-chat will be on football here, and football there… football everywhere? I’m not sure.

So, let’s make this clear. The beautiful game is soccer, right? Not so fast. The world all over, or most of it, sings in unison to the beauty of football. Italians: you’re exempted; you can disagree and continue on with your calcio (let’s pronounce it: kál-shee-o). You’re the reigning world champions. Period.

How come around this neck of the woods we just hear of soccer while football as a name has gone awry? Isn’t that funny that in the NFL the foot touches the ovoid ball only once and for a fraction of a second and still the whole business is called football?

Let’s ask those who know. Here comes Gerry Archer, from the University of Texas, an Englishman himself, with a cool story about this word. Gerry claims soccer as a word for the British crown and insists that it was coined by the forefathers of the English Premier League. Soccer was taken from the first two syllables of a longer word: association. He says that some football official of yore, Charles Wreford-Brown, in 1863, used the word soccer to tell it apart from rugby. Back then, the word football was used to speak of the two sports. And soccer was born, right there, on the same lofty cradle of football. Sorry MLS, but there are aliens even on your name.

South Africans had no qualms to christen their new temple Soccer City. However, worship will be conducted in high quality football as we follow the ups and downs of teams, players and coaches we root for or against. Just ask our very own K'naan. Check him out!

(Written for http://www.futbolwithu.com/, a portal designed, managed and maintained by a Middle School kid in Chicago)