Bore Me like Beckham

This Saturday, David Beckham, Brian Ching and Landon Donovan lead their MLS teams against squads from Australia and Japan in a showcase of soccer talent unmatched in Hawaii since Pele and the New York Cosmos played on Oahu in the summer of 1977. The matches feature big stars and international players and, most importantly, provide the rare chance to watch live professional sports in the islands. As an erudite sports maven, I should be excited for the opportunity to witness the beautiful game in person, but, for some reason, I’m not.

In fact, I couldn’t care less.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m always excited when big time sports visit the islands and I’ve enjoyed talking about something other then football for a few days; I just have no interest in attending the games. I have a couple friends going on Saturday, who invited me to tag along, but, much to their surprise, I told them that I’d rather have my Saturday free. (In all fairness, they are only going because one has free tickets and the other is working for one of the teams.) This greatly surprised them and, frankly, surprised me because, in general, I’m a big fan of all sports, soccer included. In fact, I love the World Cup. I’m CRAZY about the World Cup. In my opinion, the World Cup is every bit as exciting as March Madness and the Super Bowl. Between the screaming, yelling, singing fans, the national pride, the world class athletes, the shoot outs, the convergence of sports and politics, and the head butts, I can make a strong case that the World Cup is the world’s greatest sporting event. And my soccer fandom does not stop there. I enjoy watching the occasional soccer match on television. In college (read: when I had access to free digital cable), I routinely viewed English Premier League games, tuned in to the occasional Seria A (the top flight Italian league) match and played my fair share of FIFA 2003. (Actually, I was better at FIFA 2003 then I have ever been at any other video game. I was, literally, unbeatable. It got so bad that I had to spot my friend Steve a certain number of beers that I would drink before playing. I finally peaked at 10, though not because he finally beat me – he didn’t – but because that’s when I wanted to puke more then play FIFA. Ah, college. Good times.)

It’s not that I don’t care about soccer. I just don’t care about this soccer.

I find it hard to get that excited about an exhibition match. Sydney FC finished their season two weeks ago, have just had a week long Hawaiian vacation and they’re supposed to care about a random game against a team from the United States with nothing on the line? The two MLS teams haven’t even started their seasons yet. They have only practiced together for two weeks and they’re supposed to play sharp? I’m sure Bryan Ching will go all out for the local fans, but otherwise, I expect all the teams to play spirited, but uninspiring games as they enjoy their time in the islands.

Let’s say you’re a professional soccer player in the United States. You don’t have groupies. You’re not famous. You don’t make a lot of money. There’s no media throng following you around or reporting on how you played. What’s more important to you, an exhibition match against some random team from Australia or Japan to start off the season or the beautiful babes and beaches of Waikiki? Did you even have to think about that?

That is not to say exhibition matches can’t be fun (I kept that sentence in specifically for it’s fabulous use of a double negative). I attended the Pro Bowl two weeks ago with my buddy and had a blast. But I had more fun drinking beer in the sun and watching the players trash talk each other then I did watching the game. Furthermore the game was on a Sunday afternoon, my wife was at work and I got a free ticket. If I had exerted less effort to watch the game, they would have played it in my living room. I suppose I could have a similarly enjoyable time at the soccer games this weekend, but too additional factors dampen my excitement over the games.

First of all, the games will be played at Aloha Stadium, which is, in my opinion, the worst international soccer venue in the world. (Ok, there’s probably some small patch of scorched earth in Cameroon that is worse, but not by much.) The playing surface is Astroturf, which causes the ball to skip around rather then roll and hurts like hell when you fall on it. Think giant tennis court as opposed to soccer field. Furthermore, in order to ensure proper drainage of the turf, the field bows outward, meaning the ball continues to roll even when no one kicks it. Finally, the field is only two thirds the size of a regular international field, because the converted football stadium lacks the size – mainly the width – to support a true international pitch (See, I know my soccer. I’m using cool British words like pitch.). This makes a huge difference in the quality of play because it vastly reduces the amount of free space with which the players have to work and true, beautiful soccer relies on open space. Space allows teams to spread the ball around and work an intricate passing attack, it allows gifted athletes to use their speed to their advantage and, most importantly, it provides attackers room to work with the ball. In short, space equals excitement. A small field allows defenses to crowd the space in front of the goal and diminish scoring opportunities. If a 1-0 game sounds like your idea of a good time then by all means this is your kind of soccer.

But, I can get over Aloha Stadium. If England was playing Brazil on Saturday I would have bought my tickets months ago. Heck, I’d watch England play Brazil on that patch of scorched earth in Cameroon. Sadly, David Beckham aside, the LA Galaxy is not the English national team and the Houston Dynamo is certainly no Brazil. The fact is, the MLS is still a second class soccer league. Actually, that’s being kind. The MLS is a third class soccer league. And it’s not like they brought in big name opponents like Manchester United, Chelsea, Barcelona or AC Milan. Sydney FC? Gamba Osaka? Gamba Osaka sounds more like pickled vegetables then a soccer team. (In fact, I’m pretty sure I had some Gamba Osaka at Shyrokiya the other day and it was kind of gross.) It would be great to watch David Beckham. It would be exciting to see Bryan Ching’s homecoming. But really, outside of those two players, nothing about the games excites me.

In baseball, one pitcher can make a game a must see event. Johan Santana could come and pitch for BYU-Hawaii and I’d drive to the North Shore to watch him. In basketball, the promise of one Kobe Bryant dunk or Steve Nash no-look pass is enough to put fans in the seats. In football, no matter how good the talent, you know you’ll see some hard hits and exciting moments. In soccer, on the other hand, true beauty rarely comes from individual talent. Rather, the beautiful game relies on the seamless fluid motion of an entire team working together. On those occasions when an unbelievable collection of talented athletes combine their unparalleled skill, fitness and jaw dropping teamwork, the result is magic. Great soccer is truly amazing. On the other hand, poor soccer, average soccer, even decent soccer is usually excruciatingly boring.

If they bring true top flight, high level soccer to Hawaii, I’ll be the first in line for tickets. Until then, wake me when the World Cup starts.