You're Welcome. Sincerely, Barcelona FC

Why there was confetti I'm not sure, but with my arms out I looked to the sky as the over-head camera slowly spun higher and higher into the air. The crowd clapped and barefoot children that had rushed the field lovingly brushed the confetti off of my shoulder. Moments ago, in the 93rd minute, I had given Diego Forlán a lovely through-ball that he finished emphatically in the top corner. His goal was the third that beat Barcelona, 3 to 2.

I was enjoying my dream as the train arrived and when I stepped on I was greeted by an ominous sign; someone had thrown up all over ground. Suddenly the empty train made sense to me now. So did all the horrified faces that expected me to step in the vomit. (Ding ding ding) Before I could run out of the doors closed behind me. I held my nose and turned away. Yep, an ominous sign indeed.

I arrive at the stadium and sit in my seat the exact moment Atlético Madrid comes out to warm up. Booooo, the crowd says, but they don't really mean it. I scan the players on the field frantically until I find you-know-who and remember to breathe again. You see, I had read a rumor on the interwebs that Quique Sanchez Flores, the Atlético manager, would not be starting the World Cup's best player. Phew. He's in the building everyone, no need to panic!

Oh. Oh wait. He's wearing warm-ups. Well not just warm-ups, he's wearing the full warm-up outfit that 10 other players and 1 goalie are not wearing. I count the passing-lines again. Shit! Ten. Hold-up, I think I got 9. It wouldn't surprise me at all if Diego doesn't warm up with the rest of the proletariat. ...8, 9, ten. Shit!! Diego is not starting. Damn you Quique, damn you to hell. To make matters worse, Javier Mascherano walks over to Doug and starts chatting him up. I may be a thousand meters away, but I can tell Diego's not really in to the convo.

So I watch them converse for longer than I would have liked and Mascherano finally walks away. An errant ball flies at Diego and he back-heels it back to where it came. That moment of class is quickly ruined because Gabby Milito jogs over and starts conversing with Forlán. Is this some kind of sick joke?

Once the game starts and I finally have clear, incontrovertible proof that Diego Forlán is in fact, not starting, a wave of bitterness overwhelms me.

Really? Really everyone? Barcelona is so unbeatable that Q. Florez Sanchez , having lost 3 out of the previous 3 games, thinks it's best to try a defensive formation against The Barcelona Futbol Club, aka, Barça F. Baby, the greatest team alive. The same squad that put a 5-hand on Real Madrid. The same squad that causes managers to rest 8 of their 11 starters? The squad that made one manager say, "If it were up to me we'd give them 6 points every year and play 36 games."

Alright that last one wasn't true, but still, can't we even try to compete against them, guys? The answer that Atlético gave was, no (!), and the same is true for 16 other teams in La Liga that mention Leonel Messi in their press-conferences just to get some air-time. It's starting to get annoying.

Oh look, Messi scored. Oh look, Messi scored again. No doubt he's getting a hat-trick tonight... yawn (yawn). The half-time whistle blows and I'm given 15 minutes to try and regain my composure. The Pakistani ooh'ing and aw'ing over simple passes and yelling Bar-sha, instead of Bar-sa, definitely got to me. Let's be frank, I was having a meltdown.

Of course, Doug E. Fresh snaps me back to reality. He has come out to warm up - just him and the trainer - and it's clear he's coming on to begin the second half. I crack a smile and dopamine washes over me. "Time to get the camera out!!" I say to myself, in Barefoot Contessa's voice. (I had already taken, um, 10 pictures of him standing on the field an hour ago.)

The players take the field for the second half and the 4th referee finally holds up the neon lights everyone came here to watch. 7. Yes. Atlético comes out of the gates with some giddy-up, naturally, and for a brief moment they look threatening. My bias knows no end, so I'll let Jimbo tell the story: "Scoreline was maybe a little misleading at the end, especially because Atletico were like 3x better with Forlan on the field". I concur.

Messi, of course, bags his hat-trick. Before I let you know how sour these grapes are, I would like to point out that two of his three goals that night were very fortuitous. Deflections that could have gone anywhere settled at his feet warmly, while goalies and defenders flailed around like pigeons scattering from a running child. He's getting all the breaks, the whole team is, there's no point in denying it. I'm not trying to say they didn't earn it, you know, the same way Dimitar Berbatov deserves all his near-post goals.

The full-time whistle sounded, and immediately the anthem blasted from the speakers. Diego played well. It was in a 3-nil loss in which he played only 45 minutes and his manager conceded before the team bus arrived, but he played well nonetheless. There was a moment around the 60th minute when he seemed to pull the earth out of orbit. He received the ball near the corner flag and dribbled at Pique. Gerard Pique everyone. The like, greatest defender on this earth. Gerard assumed his crouch and strafed, ready for yet another shot defended or pass deflected to fill up his stat sheet. Diego, maintaining his stride, looked down, feinted a cross, made a cut and effortlessly skipped around Pique. My heart stopped. It was still 2-nil at this point and Doug just made Gerard Pique look like a Serie A defender. The cross lead to nothing, Kun flubed the shot, but it did lead to my epiphany.

Yes, you are witnessing a team that only comes around every fifty years. You are all privileged to know someone, who knows someone, who has season tickets to the Camp Nou. But that doesn't mean this squad is unbeatable. The respect given to this team hours and even days before their "competition" steps on the field is too much. And not every pass they make is inch perfect. I was there, I watched every pass. It's gotten to the point where Xavi or Iniesta get away with mistakes and bad touches simply because they've been given too much respect.

There are only three instances when the opposition played Barcelona FC straight up, as equals. The first was Hercules, they won, the second was Real Madrid, they lost by I forget how many (no I don't, it was five), and the third was Espanyol, who lost 5-1. The remaining 16 teams in La Liga should be ashamed. The rest of La Liga comes out on the pitch and metaphorically empties their pockets and hands over their car keys. "Thanks for beating us so easily!", they whisper face down with their arms behind their backs.

You're welcome.

Sincerely, Barcelona FC

Leather and Glass

As Juan mentioned earlier, we passed TLOCA's three-year anniversary last month (January 15th, to be exact). According to this website, the traditional anniversary gift for the third year is leather, and the modern gift is crystal/glass. So if anyone would like to send us a pair of the pants that David Bentley undoubtedly wears around his house and any part of Robin van Persie's body, that should satisfy both the traditional and the modern gift requirements.

To business. First, regarding Liverpool's two new strikers: (1) I'm excited to see this play out, and (2) how on earth is Andy Carroll worth 12.5 million pounds more than Luis Suarez? I mean, I understand the whole "he's English and he's really tall" argument, but so is Peter Crouch. I also recognize that they have extremely different playing styles, but I would take Suarez over Carroll any day. Eighty-one goals in 110 appearances for Ajax? Sure, it's the Dutch league, but throw a fine World Cup performance on top of that, and he's worth twice as much as Carroll in my view. It's just too bad that Arsenal would never spend that. Or maybe it's for the best because it would have caused Juan to immediately buy that jersey and have a heart attack from excitement after putting it on.

Rio Ferdinand is definitely growing on me. Don't get me wrong, I still desperately need to see United lose a game, and if he were the one to score a shocking own goal to make it so, I would laugh loud and uncontrollably. But I enjoy him telling it like it is. Opining that Lord Samir of Nasri has been the player of the season thus far (get well soon, Samir of). Calling out Andy Gray and Richard Keys as "dinosaurs." Well done, England captain.

A quick jaunt around Europe: Barca greatest team ever, etc. Even Jose may want out because he's run up against a juggernaut - we'll see him at United in two seasons max. Maybe even next year, if, gulp, United continue on like this. Don't look now, but Roma are fifth in the Serie A with two games in hand on Milan. After starting the season looking like relegation fodder, they're once again proving that their masters of the creep. Slowly, quietly creeping up the table. Sunday's clash with Inter should be good viewing.

Speaking of Sunday, what are the odds on Torres scoring? Let's take a little video recap, shall we?


First Liverpool goal.


Or this.


Yep.


Remember these?

And I know there are a couple more out there. In fact, I'm a little surprised that Chelsea didn't spend all that money just to break his legs out of bitterness and spite. But I guess they were just as curious as the rest of us to see what would happen if they put the best two strikers of the past few seasons (apologies to David Villa, he's up there, too) on the same front line. Of course, they waited until after one got malaria and the other effed his hamstring. But hey, you can't have everything.

Andres Iniesta Seduced By a Bear and David Villa's Head Product

"A little back-rub, some neck keesses, then I'll go in for the kil, er, I mean, the sex."

- Inside the mind of a Grizzly Bear as he seduces Andres Iniesta

Here's the ad, if you want to know how this relationship got started.

And here's an advertisement from David Villa. According to David, only use Giorgi, "if your game lasts 24 hours."
_________

Jim was at the Emirates last night and witnessed an event as rare aurora borealis during the total eclipse of the sun - Arsenal beat Chelsea.

More from him as soon as he returns.

Until then.

"Xavi is the Best Player in the World", Said the Bored Catalan

"Wait what?? Is Xavi even the 3rd best player on Barcelona FC?" responded the surly Uruguayan born American. The party seemed to freeze in time momentarily; I would take some convincing.

Little do they know I have Xavi as the 5th best player on Barcelona, behind Messi, Iniesta, Villa, and Pique, and probably in that order.

Before we begin
I am not suggesting that Xavi is a bad soccer player. Capiche? Mr. Hernandez is obviously talented, just not better than four of his teammates.

And I must demand that we agree on one premise before beginning, because if we can't agree that Messi is the best player on Barcelona, we're shouting from different planets.

Messi
The Messiah is the best player on Barcelona FC; it's not close. If it's an argument at all, it's born from extreme boredom or a blood-alcohol level of .24. It's fit for Around the Horn in June.

Since 2007, in all Barcelona FC competitions, Messi and Xavi have appeared in 137 and 156 games respectively. Messi has 124 goals and 48 assists; Xavi has 25 goals and 65 assists. That's 500% more goals for 25% less assists.
Standardizing the numbers for "games played" adds a little to Messi's resume, and adjusting for age is when things get absurd.
25-year-old-Messi had 45 goals and 10 assists (46 games played) and 25-year-old-Xavi had 3 goals and 0 assists (44 games played). Re-read that last sentence one more time.

But I don't need to use statistics; Messi passes the eye-test as well. I'm not talking about the flash (thanks Arabic announcer), I'm talking about impact. If Xavi is the one pulling the strings of the puppet - as my friend Carlos emphasized by putting his hand out as if he were holding a marionette - then Messi chokes you with the strings, robs you, and bangs your wife on the way out the door.

Neither of the two play defense (no, they don't, squash that thought), and although they play different roles for their teams, I'm still taking Messi. And I'm offended you even asked. I'll humor any argument, because I love talking soccer and I hate Argentinian players, but I need to know you're joking before we have the discussion, that's all.

In twenty-five years, hardly anyone that isn't pining for Catalan independence will remember the name Xavi Hernandez, but I can guarantee they'll know the name Lionel Messi.
Ugh, that hurt to write. Moving along, in summary:
Messi > Xavi. Agreed? Agreed. Now, let's begin.

Iniesta
"I'd rather have Xavi than Iniesta." I get that a fair amount here in Barcelona. Here is how the argument typically plays out:

I'd rather have Xavi than Iniesta.
- Why is that?
(Begins gesticulating with arms) Because Xavi is Barcelona FC. He controls the tempo of the game. He is... the system.
- Can you name me an important goal Xavi has scored?
Xavi doesn't really score goals.
- Iniesta doesn't "really" score goals either, but I can name you three. His goal to win the World Cup, of course, his goal to beat Chelsea in the Champions League, and he scored the winner against Chile, a game Spain needed to win so badly they subbed off Xavi in the 66th minute.

Sounds like you looked up that last one dude.
- Maybe I did, but if you can find me an "important" goal Xavi scored in less than 10 minutes, then maybe we can talk. But let's ignore goals for a moment. Can you remember an important assist Xavi had?
Not really.
- I agree, that's because assists aren't really remembered, unless you're Theo Walcott. But fine, give me a game of significance in which Xavi clearly wow'd. If we're putting Xavi in the company of Player-of-the-Year winners like Zidane, Figo, Ronaldinho, surely you can think of one game when Xavi blew the lid off the stadium and announced his presence.
(Struggles to think of one) But dude, he's still good.
- I agree, I'm not saying he's bad. I just don't think he's better than Iniesta. They play the same role. They are almost literally asked to do the same thing and their stats are not significantly different from one another; Iniesta has a few more goals, Xavi has a few more assists. But for some reason, I can remember the times when Iniesta has impacted a meaningful game, whether it be for Spain or FC, but I can't remember a single instance when that was Xavi.

But Xavi the other day completed 112 of his 115 passes!
- That's a phenomenally useless statistic. It's about as useful as all of Arsenal's possession when they lose as well. Stat's don't really have a place in soccer. Put me in a plaid blazer with leather elbow pads and give me a corn-cob pipe, but it's true, statistics do a mostly horrible job explaining soccer. This isn't baseball, or even the NFL where people talk of "skill positions" and don't realize they are mocking the game.
Jose Mourinho's Inter was very successful, and they never beat Barcelona in any stats. Well, just one, the final score. And I could go on and on about how Arsenal wins the stat-battle every week. Yet no team seems to befuddle the stat argument better than Arsenal.
"What a beautiful game. We won five-nil and completed 430 of our 442 passes! And we had 65% of the possession!"
That's great. But what about the time when Arsenal had 65% of the possession, completed 90% of their hundreds of passes, gave up 2 shots on goal and still lost 1-nil to Newcastle.
(Jim sighs).

Of course statistics tell some of the story. A neutral Barcelona observer wouldn't be surprised to see that the Blaugrana control a majority of the possession. Nor would it be a surprise that they touch the ball around more than their opponents. Completed passes, however, are mostly useless. For example:

In the game in which Messi destroyed Arsenal in the Champions League, he attempted half as many passes as Xavi and completed a lower percentage of them. He even "covered" less distance.

It's not just about goals. One should appreciate players like Xavi, and I do. Just give me Andres Iniesta, who over the past 3 years has proved his impact on the big stage over and over again, and I'll let you have the invisible puppet-master.

David Villa
Speaking of impact. Is there a better player that is more under-the-radar right now than David Villa? ¡Madre mia!

He scored the most goals in the Euro 2008 - two of which were game winners - and Spain won. He tied for the most goals in the World Cup 2010 - three of which were game winners - and Spain won.

He was "slumping" for Barcelona FC, yet somehow he has 11 goals and 7 assists in 20 appearances. This was only after never having scored less than 20 goals a season, for five consecutive seasons at Valencia.

The man is on fire, literally shooting flames from every orifice. If I can only have one player in a big game, Mara-Villa is on the short-list of names. Again, it's not just about goals, but it goes without saying how important they are in order to, you know, win games. So if you need at least 20 goals during a season, several of them winners and several of them against your biggest opponents, David Villa is your guy. If you need someone who will complete 90% of his passes, take Xavi.

Gerald Pique
Consider that Gerald Pique is one of the best central defenders in the world. Then consider that Pique is 23 years old. Instead of entering into the nebulous arguments of why defense is important, I'd rather point out that a great center-back is harder to find than a great striker.

McCallan Top Tier Center-Backs:
Pique, Puyol (sigh), Carvalho, Chiellini, Lucio, Vidic, John Terry, and let's assume 1 more I'm forgetting. Total = 8

Grey Goose Top Tier Strikers:
Villa, Cristiano Ronaldo, Forlan, Llorente, Eto'o, Ibrahimovic, Tevez, Van Persie (stop laughing), Rooney, Drogba, Torres (I'm not ready to drop him yet, in fact, this makes me sad), Thomas Muller. Total = 12

Well that wasn't very convincing. This would be alot easier if VP and Torres would stop sucking so much, but still, I think I might have a point.

*Aside - after doing this exercise I wonder if we're a few years away from an odd dearth of great central-backs. Puyol and Carvalho are past prime, so is Chiellini and perhaps John Terry. Maybe I just don't know enough young central defenders - they're late bloomers I suppose - but it seems like holding midfielders and oustanding fullbacks are in fashion. Or maybe it's getting harder and harder to find a great central defender with the current outrageously talented crop of attacking midfielders and strikers.

Irregardless, I comfortably put a 23-year-old central defender like Pique ahead of a 30-year-old Xavi. And even if you don't buy Pique over Xavi, that still means Mr. Hernandez is 4th best on his own team. Why oh why is he in the running for player of the year? Please explain that to me. No seriously, the comments are open.

El Clasico

I must have looked out of place. With nearly one hundred thousand people screaming and jumping around, there I was silent and relatively still. It was Xavi's goal in the 10th minute, and if you didn't know any better you would have thought I was catatonic.


The guy to my left, probably confused by my reaction, grabbed me and shook my shoulders as if to wake me up. I gave him a high-five so that he would stop bothering me and I continued to soak in the scene.

The truth is that it didn't work. I was as capable of absorbing the moment as a deer is capable of absorbing an F150.

There was so much uncertainty leading up to El Clasico that I wasn't prepared for a goal that quickly. My body was in the Camp Nou, but my brain was still on the metro, wondering if I would even get a ticket.

My journey to find a way inside the Camp Nou for El Clasico began two weeks ago. Well, technically it began within three hours of finding out I had been accepted to The University of Barcelona five months ago, but realistically it began two weeks ago. I talked with season ticket holders, friends, locals, friends of friends, and the response was always the same - a laugh, a shake of the head, and the obligatory "don't count it on it kid" speech.

In short, I blame them for my reaction. I blame the whole city in fact. The tension and anxiety for this game reached tangible levels three weeks ago. Did you know that the game was originally scheduled for Sunday? The same Sunday as the - depending on who you ask - local elections of Catalunia. Perhaps it was the surgeon general that realized you can't have 5 million people finding out the result for both El Clasico and the "Presidential" election on the same night.

I rent my apartment from a wonderful Catalan couple who would tell you that the election was "national" rather than "local". The husband is a life-long season ticket holder and a Barça aficionado, though that's an understatement. He told me once with a straight face that his All World Starting 11 would include Eric Abidal at right back. I hadn't signed the lease yet so I thought it would be impolite to storm out.

In the first week of November, I was at their house to pick up an extension cord and El Clasico came up. Ten seconds into the conversation the wife stormed into the room saying, "No no no! No more talk about football! I've had it up to here(!) with this damn football match!!" So, yes, the tension was building.

Fast forward three weeks and there I was, 100 dollars poorer with 98 thousand people singing the hymn; it's no wonder why I was so overwhelmed.



You can hear me singing in this one.



I think it's important to note that neither manager had an incentive to go out and win 2 or 3-nil. This game had zero-zero or 1-1 draw written all over it, and both managers would be delighted with one point each, considering the stakes. The managers before the game (I'm paraphrasing):

"If we win, tomorrow will be Tuesday. If we lose, tomorrow will also be Tuesday." - Jose Mourinho.

"Win or lose it will be 1 match of 38." - Pep Guardiola


So with a pleasant 1-1 draw looming over El Clasico, you can imagine my surprise when Iker Casillas blew this game wide open, fudging a routine cross from David Villa, and defrauding Madrid fans everywhere to allow a 2-nil lead within 20 minutes of the kickoff. Yikes.

I would be lying if I said Sara Carbonero didn't cross my mind:

"What happen honey? Why you ruin Mourinho's day?... Were you cold?"

Fine. Two-nil. Remember, we're still only 20 minutes into this game.

Both goals had a very real element of fortune about them, but all the same, this just got more interesting. Phrases that don't really make sense but are cool to say come up at times like these -- The next goal will be the most important one. (Yeah totally!!... ...wait what?)

After two-nil and before halftime, Madrid fans could claim there was a moment of controversy when Cristiano Ronaldo was brought down in the box by Victor Valdez. The reason it was not a penalty, not in Barcelona or in Madrid, was because the original burst by Cristi to get into position was a reaction play. Moments before the ball squirmed free, Cristiano was standing, or relatively still. Once he saw the opportunity present itself, only then did he fly in front of Valdez. The ref noticed this as well and I'm of the firm belief that if Cristiano, by chance, had been running or sprinting from the outset, as if trying to get on to a through-ball, it would have been called. But since it was a broken play, and the intent to beat Valdez to the position was fairly transparent, the referee didn't buy it. I'm not blaming Cristi at all, or the referee since I think it was the correct decision... if that makes any sense at all.

Cue halftime. Cue the sandwiches I mentioned before. I took a picture to not only prove the culture, but to also show you how in 50 degree weather these spoiled Mediterraneans dress like they're about to ski the Pyrenees.

The second half begins and throughout the intermission I'm secretly wishing this turns into a classic for the ages. I would be right, but not the way I imagined.

Nobody expected five-nil. Nobody. Not Pep, not Puyol, not even my landlord. They are lying if they did, or disingenuous at best. What happened was that David Villa had other intentions. The man feasts on big games. It's amazing that people rave about Messi, Xavi, even Iniesta, when on the front page of every newspaper should be David Villa. It was his cross that Pedro tapped in, and his cold-blooded, world class, enter-hyperbole-here finishes that put this game to bed. If Real Madrid were a beautiful 12-point buck, Xavi shot it in the leg while David Villa calmly walked over with a chainsaw and cut it to bits.

I barely heard a peep about Villa during Spain's World Cup run and nothing has changed during the aftermath of this blowout. I'll air my gripes at another time, because right now it's still 4-nil, there are 30 minutes left in El Clasico, and the match has yet to reach it's highest level of absurdity.



For a ten minute span starting at the hour mark, Barcelona FC decided to cash in on their bets of who could nutmeg the most Real Madrid players. No joke, Xavi had 2 megs, Iniesta had 2, Alves may have had 3 (the winner), Boooosie with 1, Messi with 1... you get the picture. Ticky-tack champagne soccer had begun, egged on by the crowd who were chanting:

Hey-o hey-o hey-o.
Esto es un chorreo.

Chorreo = blowout. Ouch.

That wasn't even my favorite song. To the tune of Guantanamera, the masses hilariously begged Jose Mourinho to, "come out of the dugout":

Sal del banquillo... Mourinho sal del banquillo... Saal del banquiiiiiiiiillooooo, Mourinho sal del banquiiillooo.

The banquillo (ban-key-yo) is the pyrex bubble Mourinho hid inside, with reason, for most of the game. In fact, talking about it afterward with a friend who watched at home, we agreed there was really only one time when Mourinho stood near the sideline. Anyway, they're a clever bunch, the fans, when winning 4-nil.

The greatest insult, and this was a doozey, came via Pep Guardiola when he substituted for Bojan Krkic. Make no mistake, Guardiola was insulting Los Merengues. I'll let my Read Madrid friend explain, (I'm paraphrasing):

"When Pep says, hey, you know what will be great (mock laugh), I'm gonna put in the retard - you know it's humiliating.
[And if he had scored that break-away?, I asked]
God I don't want to talk about this anymore. If Bojan had scored I would have died. That's the only thing I left with man, at least Bojan didn't score. We got spanked and it was terrible, but if that hack Bojan scores it would have been worse."

It sounds harsh but any Barcelona supporter would agree. Half my section encouraged Bojan with, "run Bojan, run!!" sarcastically as if they were mocking Forest Gump. Send the boy out on loan, please; but I digress.

The culmination, besides Jeffren's completion of la manita (pictured here, holding up your mano to indicate exactly how many goals have been scored), was when Jorge Ramos decided he had had enough.


From the moment Messi took off it looked like a bunch of piranhas chasing after a minnow. I started cringing and just about everyone knew what was coming. What happened after the mass of Merengues converged and left Messi in a heap was a blur. A flash of red, Puyol hits the deck, mayhem, Ramos storms off, hits Xavi in the face, the crowd is incensed, thousands of whistles, more mayhem. It all converged into this:

Madrid!
Cabrón!
Saludo al campeon!

Madrid!
Cabrón!
Saludo al campeon!

(repeat 10x)

The final whistle sounds and the crowd celebrates as if the result were a surprise. The hymn immediately blasts from the speakers and it isn't for another 10 minutes when the majority of fans head for the exit.

The tunnels bottleneck with fans, factions of songs break out, smiles abound. Just another Monday night in Barcelona.

What's That You Say?

We beat them by how many goals? Oh dear, that's quite a lot. Maybe we should have taken it easy on them... I hate it when Mourinho calls me late at night and breathes menacingly into the phone, and you can be sure he'll be at it again tonight. I know it's you, Jose.

Next up (I hope): a summary from our very own correspondent, present earlier this evening at the Camp Nou.

In the Words of Ice Cube...

"It was a good day." In fact, it was a great football weekend. Let's recap...

I got my grub on, but didn't pig out; finally got a call from a girl I wanna dig out...

Aston Villa 2 - 2 Manchester United. In a way, a United loss would have been pigging out - I don't think I'm alone in having the feeling that if they lost this one, they would bounce back with a five spot against Wigan next weekend. Instead, they get to maintain a false sense of security in their unbeaten run, and can ignore that they've been leapfrogged in the table, drawn two in a row, are relying on the likes of Park and Vidic to get them out of jail, and should have never even beaten Wolves last week. Ring ring. Hello, who's there? Oh, hey Aston Villa... are you telling me you're going to start playing like the side that routinely competes for fifth or sixth and gives the top teams trouble? So good to hear from you...

Looking in my mirror, not a jacker in sight - and everything is alright...

Manchester City 0 - 0 Birmingham City. As an Arsenal fan, please allow me to redirect something towards Citeh, something that every Arsenal hater has been telling me ad infinitum (and not without good reason) for the past few years: "these are the games you have to win to be a contender." Chelsea, Arsenal, and United are looking in their rear view mirrors, and they're increasingly unafraid of what they see.

Saw the police, and they rolled right past me...

Juventus 1 - Roma 1. This is not so much a positive as it is an aversion of disaster (for both teams). All in all, a very entertaining match, and either side could have won (and either side could have had players booked or even sent off, especially near the end when it got chippy). But as it is, two good teams made sure they didn't lose big while going for the win, and two fine strikers added to their tally. Nobody got arrested, and the title remains a viable goal.

Woke her up around one, she didn't hesitate to call Ice Cube the top gun...

Barcelona 3 - 1 Villareal. I don't hesitate to call Leo Messi the top gun, and neither should you. Two goals from him (he's so good, that I expect him to score his first the way he does now... he's officially patented the double give and go, and we're all spoiled for it), and the Blaugrana got to sit top for about 24 hours.

Today was like one of those fly dreams...

Chelsea 0 - 3 Sunderland. The kind of fly dream where Sunderland drop three goals. On Chelsea. At Stamford Bridge. Three well-deserved goals, might I add. It was the kind of fly dream in which Ashley Cole passes it directly to the other team to set up an icing-on-the-cake goal. Well played, Steve Bruce. Well played Danny Welbeck and Asamoah Gyan. And extremely well played Nedum Onuoha, doing his best Messi imitation for the opener. Mmm, positively dreamy.

Even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp, and it read: "Ice Cube's a pimp."

Hercules 2 - 1 Real Sociedad and Atletico Madrid 3 - 0 Osasuna. The Goodyear Blimp being La Liga (make of that what you will), and the shining lights being two TLOCA favorites, David Trezeguet (captured in the act of reasoning with the ball and convincing it that the goal is its proper home) and Diego Forlan, who got back on target for their respective sides. That's just a nice bonus, and a reminder that class is permanent. When Trez and Forlan go to sleep at night, they see their names on that blimp.

Drunk as hell, but no throwing up...

Everton 1 - 2 Arsenal. Arsenal continue to grind out tough wins on the road while surrendering easy ones at home. We scored two classy goals (Bacary!?!), and got a little too comfortable. But despite getting drunk and reeling a bit at the end, Lukasz Fabianski provided the voice of reason and prevented us from pulling the trigger and losing two points. We may have a bit of a hangover tomorrow, but thank goodness we didn't boot all over Goodison Park. Although we wouldn't have been the first to do it.

I got to say, it was a good day.

Amen. (And Jose Mourinho and AC Milan agree.)

Fresh Juicy Mangoes

Dan Quayle would be proud of this fellow. For the neutral observer, it was a fantastic weekend of football. As an Arsenal supporter, it wasn't so great; I'll just quickly say a few words about that stinker against Newcastle and it's this: no excuses. We put out almost as strong a squad as we could; no Vermaelen or fit RVP, but whatever, this is almost as good as it gets. Cesc, Nasri, Wilshere, Walcott, Chamakh, Song. We should be scoring. And at home, we must be winning with that lineup. MUST. OK, rant over. Now, a few thoughts:

(1) Fernando Torres took two enormous bites of the mango this weekend. And with cool, slightly sticky mango juice spilling down his handsome chin, he lit a fire under Liverpool. For the first half, they looked like the squad their teamsheet has always threatened to be - killing themselves for every ball in midfield, working hard, defending as a unit, smothering Chelsea, and letting El Nino do his thing up front. That was so much fun to watch. It certainly made the poop sandwich (with a side of Andy Carroll and Joey Barton) I had just swallowed a half hour before that much easier to digest. In the second half, Chelsea had an Arsenal kind of day, lots of possession, lots of dallying, and then, when they finally got the ball into dangerous positions, they wasted their chances or were thwarted by excellent goalkeeping. I felt their pain.

(2) Roma won what might be the most intense, ill-tempered derby in football right now against league-leaders Lazio. (Frankly, I'd be too terrified to attend one of these matches.) You know Francesco Totti is nearing the end when I'm slightly relieved to see him not on the teamsheet. Also, I'm sorry to say it, but Muslera really should do better with Boriello's miserable excuse for a penalty. Good thing they had Vucinic take the second one. Who, by the way, has the angriest, most bizarre, goal celebrations around right now. He's the best.

(3) This brings me to my next point: the Serie A is bonkers. With all the focus on the EPL and La Liga, it's easy to forget that an Italian club won the CL last year. If I'm a club in the Champions League, I want no part of Inter, Roma, or Milan this year. All three clubs, while flawed, are completely unpredictable, and I could easily see one of them going to the final this year. Don't look now, but they're all on track to make the knockouts...

(4) La Liga wants no part of the (relative) parity taking hold of the EPL, Serie A, or Bundesliga (actual parity, there). But that's OK, because Mourinho vs. Barca is good fun. Juan predicted that the title returns to Madrid this year, and frankly, it's hard to argue with him. In fact, I think I'll go one better: Mourinho wins the treble with Madrid, and then leaves within the next two years to replace Fergie at Man United. It's happening.

(5) Speaking of which... Ji-Sung Park? Surely United cannot keep this up. If they somehow stay competitive for the title, then Fergie has definitely refinanced the third mortgage on his soul.

Until next time, gents.

Musings on Spanish Football and Bojan Krkic

There is no player right now in Spanish football in a bigger slump than Bojan Krkic. Bojan’s slump reached its trough tonight, somewhere in Croatia, for the U-21 Spanish squad. Let me begin by clarifying that Bojan is a Spanish national; he does not play for some eastern European country like his last name might indicate. I was quite surprised to find this out, but I digress. Do you remember last year when Nicklaus Bendtner missed twelve gilt-edged scoring chances in one Champions League match at the Emirates, and when he was finally substituted the crowd gave him a standing ovation? That happened tonight for Bojan. After an hour of heavy touches, stray passes and shots that might endanger a spectator unprepared to ever see a match-ball flying at them, Bojan reached his low. The play is a deft give-and-go near the 8-yard box, Mata shot low and to the corner only to have it blocked by Bojan on the goal line. The ball hit off his heel, deflected off the goalie, and somehow it came back to his feet as he fell down. He poked it in from his back, an ugly goal at best, but was whistled for offsides. If he weren’t in such horrible form, he might have had a laugh about it. Three minutes later he walked off the field, pulling at his hair and staring blankly at the ground. One of his teammates ran 30 yards to hug him and whisper something in his ear before he was substituted.

This all started a few weeks ago in the stands at the Camp Nou. Barcelona was on a romp in the second half of a Champions League tie against Panathinaikos and Pep signaled to Bojan to get loose. Some of the crowd in my section noticed him warming up and started a chant, “Queremos la marica! Queremos la marica!” That means, “We want the gay kid! Put in the gay kid!” This surprised me because it’s unusual for any citizen to criticize Barcelona FC. A video could surface that showed Leonel Messi setting fire to kittens and the Catalunian papers would claim the kittens were spreading the plague, so naturally, Messi had done the right thing. Pep Guardiola has a book, people buy this book; again, I was a bit surprised that Bojan was heckled by the home crowd. But why were they on edge?

This has many roots, one even stems back to Zlatan Ibrahimovic and his struggles last year, but the main cause for tension was the Hercules – Barcelona game. Barcelona opened their home campaign against wet-behind-the-ears Hercules, and lost 2-nil. They lost one La Liga game all of last year. And this was a flattering 2-nil loss; Hercules having missed a sitter and Trezeguet hit the bar. For reasons I don’t understand yet, it is a special kind of insult to bring up losses to a team that has spent time in the 2^nd division. The old, surly, drunk men at the bar that accused me of being a Merengue (“Eres Merengue!” they would say in their scratchy voices, decaying from emphysema) had memorized all the ties or losses that Real Madrid suffered to newly promoted teams in the past few years. They listed them off as if reading some secret document at a court hearing. All of this is to show that the Hercules loss was not just an unexpected thorn in their side, but rather a permanent scar that is no longer spoken about. And it was that game that reopened the small nagging wound Barcelona FC fans have chosen to ignore the past two seasons; they don’t have enough finishers.

Keita has not panned out, Ibrahimovic was practically a bust, not to mention trouble in the locker room, and Bojan has not developed as fast as some would like. Yes, they have David Villa, with his dreamy dark eyes and neat haircut, and yes, they have Leo Messi, with his witchcraft and sorcery. But when Villa got a red-card, and Messi nearly had his ankle snapped in two, guess what happened? The next game domestic game, Barcelona dropped points, again. The game before that, in Russia, they drew zero-zero. The papers the next day read, “Ruin Kazan”. Awkwardly, the passes that Xavi and Iniesta complete per game by the fifties, produced no end product. Four points gone and Barcelona isn’t even seven games through La Liga. Let me repeat; they lost one game last year and won the league by three points. One!

Obviously, that game Bojan missed a sitter (he was subbed off at half!) and Keita was/is/may always be abject. Even Dani Alves might be in a mini-slump as he too has missed open nets. Pedro, another untouchable, who has been bailed out with a groin injury, causes some grumbles here and there. And just as an aside, since this is a delight to report but has nothing to do with their finishing woes, Javier Mascherano fits into that team like Ron Jeremy does in a porno. It’s a smart crowd here in Barcelona, and I think they are starting to realize.

Now that Cristiano Ronaldo appears to be out of his funk, and Real Madrid survived it and leads them in the table, Pep’s 5 o’clock shadow grows in a little grayer. There is a feeling around city that Barcelona may not be the treble winning team they once were. When you’ve spoiled your fans as much as Barcelona has, there are surely going to be some moans with any sign of decline. But this is different. The domestic league means more here in Spain than the Champions League – or at least a lot more than it does in England. I hear all the time EPL players and their dream of winning the Champs League, but not here, at least not yet.

The key is that Real Madrid has emerged from their dark ages with their German midfielders and their Portuguese manager. This is to the horror of Barcelona fans. They won’t admit it, but Real Madrid actually scares them this year, unlike previous few years. And they should. I think Real Madrid wins La Liga this season. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.

So, What Have We Learned?

Harsh, hateful words from the fictional Sr. Guardiola, the use of which I in no way condone. In every other way, hilariously spot-on. And now, the week in review:

1) Tomas Rosicky should never, ever come near an Arsenal penalty again. Why Chamakh, whose primary purpose in life is the scoring of goals, or Nasri, who has ice water pumping through his gangster, Marseilles-ghetto veins, didn't take that spot kick against Sunderland I'll never know. Arsene was similarly nonplussed.

2) Sam Allardyce may be on some dangerous, hard drugs. The man is seriously delusional.

3) Manchester United are, in fact, somewhat fragile at the back. The discipline and steel of past years is missing. Evans and O'Shea are, quite frankly, not very good at the moment. Or as the English say: "crap."

4) However, Dimitar Berbatov is settling in quite nicely, thank you very much. Cruising along, smooth as a big body Lexus, he put in another finishing master class. Haters gon' hate, and Berba don't care. Get that money, Berba. Buy yourself another Argentina replica jersey. Maybe go for Spain this time, actually.

5) Barthalona and Real Mourinho are both capable of ugly, gutsy wins. But as Juan mentioned with regard to Barca last week, when you put out those lineups, you expect to win at any cost, by any means. See above cartoon.

6) Zlatan Ibrahimovic is probably a sociopath. Maybe he's so humorless and borderline autistic because he's constantly being scrutinized and criticized despite being one of the most prolific goalscorers in Europe. (See above cartoon.) Something I like to call Anelka Syndrome. But it's much more likely that he's just a huge jerk regardless of what the press says about him. At any rate, he's still really good at scoring goals, especially when his feet are firmly planted on Italian soil.

7) Having Florent Malouda as the captain of your fantasy EPL team has been a very good idea. Not to pat myself on the back or anything. But seriously, we won't learn anything new about Chelsea until next weekend's trip to the City of Manchester Stadium. I'm hoping (as always) for a Wayne Bridge winner that deflects off John Terry's groin.

8) Roma were clearly demoralized by how last season ended, and they look stuck in preseason mode. That squad is more than capable of winning the league this year. Frankly, it's confusing. And the pressure may be getting to the tinkerman.

9) It's official: there's something seriously wrong with Fernando Torres. I know I'm about three months too late with that obvious announcement, but I was willing to overlook his subpar World Cup display due to his injury struggles (and the general overhype that accompanies every star into a new tournament after performing fantastically at their last tournament - in this case, Euro 2008). But he really does not look like himself. (I believe) he won the penalty and the free kick that gave Liverpool a way back into the Northwest Derby, but anyone who watched that entire match knows that something is up.

10) Everybody should move to Barcelona (see Juan's excellent dispatch from the Camp Nou below). Beautiful football, beautiful women, and delicious sandwiches (mostly likely prepared by beautiful women and then enjoyed whilst watching beautiful football). Sigh. Get the couch bed ready, good sir.

A Night In Barcelona

The Camp Nou is on the west side of the city and surrounded by three or four metro stations within walking distance. I got off at Les Corts and after each stop along the way, the number of Barcelona jerseys in the car increased more and more. I was wearing Arsenal Red, though just the colors, not the jersey. I emerge from the metro on Travessera de les Corts, a busy street lined with bars and Barca supporters spilling out of the entrances. Everyone is holding a cold beer, Estrella presumably, and I'm beginning to worry about scalping a ticket since so far nobody has yelled out, entradas!

The stadium from the outside is not special at all. It's mostly gray cement and covered with broad stairs that lead to narrow passageways. The sidewalk lights are draped with Barcelona colors and paraphernalia. Pep Guardiola, so far, is the most common face on billboards and bus stops. I am about 50 yards from the ticket counter when I see the first stadium volunteer. He's wearing an official Champions League orange mesh vest and I can no longer suppress a gigantic smile. Grinning, surely like fool, I am immediately approached by a scalper.

It's a short, tan, worn out looking fellow with a hardly comprehensible smokers voice. "100 euros, pero te lo doy por la mitad," he says, grabbing my shoulder. "No lo tengo," I reply, ready to brush him off. "40", he counters. I smile - that was easy. No lo tengo. 35! "No tengo efectivo," I say - and it's true, I only have 20 euros cash. "Dimé," he says. That means say a number. "Tengo veinte." He throws up his hands - imposible, he mutters, and walks away.

By the time I make it to the counter, 5 other individuals, each with an increasing number of facial defects and each more and more tan approaches. They're a touchy bunch, constantly grabbing you like they would a rescued prisoner. I make it to the window, a small 2ft by 2ft square with a younger, volunteer-looking-fellow sitting with a keyboard in his lap. "Lo mas barato que puedas," I say, asking for the cheapest thing he's got. 42 is his reply. I almost throw my credit card at him. Meanwhile, at the window next to me, a man is debating rather loudly with a scalper while also talking to a ticket agent. It's quite a scene and nobody leaves happy. I get my ticket, a glossy silver paper with silver threads offset from the center. It's in the Champions League font - they spared no detail - and I ascend toward the stadium, almost jogging.

More Champions League vests, I nod hello to them all. I emerge from the tunnel and wow. The grass is glowing green, the pitch is perfect. It sounds silly, but it looks exactly like it does on TV. What you don't see on TV is the sun setting behind the hills outside of the stadium. A few minutes later Panathinaikos comes out to warm up. Booooo! says the half-full stands. It would only fill to about 70% capacity - 68 thousand said the regular-tron.

Barca FC comes out to cheers, of course, and Carlos Puyol looks just a silly as I imagined. The starting line-up is: Victor Valdez, Abidal, Pique, Puyol, Dani Alves, Busquets, Xavi, Iniesta, Pedro, Messi, and David Villa. Um, yeah. Looks like Barca want the win. They'd get it.

Messi and Alves warm up together, closest to the sideline. They like to be seen. Triangle passing, some cutting-drills, some stretching and they're done. The only thing of note is that they didn't do any 3-vs-1's. I thought that was required by all teams at every level. It must be a sign of weakness because the Greeks get smashed. Cue the official Barcelona song. In order to re-create the effect, find 60-thousand volunteers to do the "clapclapclap" and then Barca!, Barca! BaaaaarrrrrrrCA! Just mumble the rest. Next cue the best soccer song ever. Yes, they play it over the loud speakers and yes, they shake the tarp. I pinch myself.

Barcelona comes out of the gate on fire. They instantly dominate possession and the first crowd OHHHHH, comes at the 2 minute mark. It's easy to say now, but it immediately looks like this is going to be a rout. I'm perfectly fine with that. So is Panathinaikos by the look of it. They settle in defensively and quite literally by the 1oth minute it has a feel of a 1-nil lead that the away team is trying to hold. Everyone knows that isn't going to happen.

Or is it. Uh-oh in the 20th minute. By my estimate it was the 4th pass connected by the Greeks. A long-ball by the goalie reaches Gibril Cisse, who flicks deftly onto Govou. Mr. Govou outruns Abidal, who looks caught in slow-motion. The side of the net ruffles, Valdez looks at Abidal confused and the crowd mutters for a moment. I begin to swear - I'm trying to fit in - but just like that, less than 5 seconds after the goal, the stadium erupts in the loudest song to this point. Puyol gesticulates at David Villa, Pedro and Messi. Xavi is still working on his 5-o'clock-shadow look, without fail. The game resumes exactly where it left off, Barcelona with 78% possession to Pana's 22%. Three minutes later Barcelona scores, and the first standing ovation is unleashed. Messi lulls his defender asleep and Xavi (I believe) gives him a bouncing through-ball that Leo handles quite well. 1-1.

At this point it is worth mentioning that if you have a hot girlfriend you are apparently required by Catalan ordinance to take her to the Camp Nou. This is where couples go to be seen. A tight fitting Barca jersey, skinny jeans and some nice sandals is the dress code. The girls pay attention to the game too. Not that I was staring at one sitting one row down and 9 seats over, but she seemed to understand what was happening. In the seats and in Barcelona in general, couples are very affectionate. They pet each other constantly and girls often gaze for longer than 30 seconds into their partner's eyes. If you yelled at them to get a room, they would probably appreciate the suggestion. There is no attractive girl at the game by herself, only fatter ones.

Villa scores the 2nd from a Busquets, aka, Boooo-see header. It's well taken but horrible marking is most responsible from the corner set. Right before half, this happens. After the first give-and-go I begin to laugh sarcastically because everyone sees what Messi is trying to pull off. Um. What? He actually puts it home after a double give-and-go? Now we get the loudest cheer and many members of the crowd are gesticulating "NO MAS, NO MAS", like a hurt fighter. Jack Buck, I don't believe what I just saw. I'm cheering a little too much for an Argentian and I start to feel embarrassed.

Half-time. Everyone pulls out their sandwiches wrapped in foil. It's thin french bread with soprata/ham/salami, cheese and peppers. It looks delicious. Say dude, where'd you get that? "My wife made it at home, (his 3 friends with their mouths full nod in agreement), but you can get a hotdog outside." I pass. Not after seeing them eat those sandwiches. The women do not eat in public.

The first half felt long. I was happy about that, I was afraid it was going to fly by. The second half starts about 30 seconds after Barcelona took the field. They waste no time. Messi at the penalty spot for a hattrick. He misses. I give a small, unnoticed fist pump; that makes up for all my cheering before. It's still Messi... Messi... Meeeeessi. Two moments worth noting in the second half. Pedro gets a through ball, has a great angle on the keeper, and I'm not kidding, he looks to pass! He fumbles the ball a bit, tries to pull it back out (the goal mouth still gaping) and eventually turns it over. Xavi scolds him. Why didn't you shoot man! Are you crazy!, he probably said in perfect Catalan. Messi hits the post from no angle, twice - off the inside of one, off the inside of the other - and Pedro finishes to a hint of sarcastic clapping. This game is officially over, though it has been over for an hour. On the death, Dani Alves heads home a scoop pass from Leo, who has looked semi-desperate for his hat-trick after missing that PK. The crowd heads for the tunnels, factions of songs break out, smiles abound. Just another Tuesday night in Barcelona.

At least there's the Serie A...

So let's see.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse for Arsenal this season, they (1) lost their best defender for the remainder of the season and (2) lost to a team that hadn't won a league game against them for over a decade. Oh yeah, and it was Spurs. I really don't want to talk about it.

Chelsea also ground out a 1-0 win in a game they could have easily lost 2-1 if the referee hadn't decided that playing the ball with your hand in the area was acceptable. So barring the most miraculous/bizarre turn of events, they're cruising for the Double. Liverpool, the only member of the "Big Four" that I didn't really loathe is up for sale and essentially out of the CL, to be replaced by either Spurs (shudder) or Man City, which is quickly becoming almost as unlikable (and scary) as its neighbor. So the forces of evil triumph again.

In Spain, Barca hold a three point advantage which is quickly looking insurmountable. And anyway, it's just Madrid in the mix. Everyone else is like a million points behind.

So again, I feel stupid for asking Juan why I should care about the Serie A at the beginning of the season. Indeed, it's got my full attention now. There are three teams with legitimate shots at the title. Juve are fighting for their CL lives, and a lot more manfully than their current "Big Four" English counterpart in Liverpool. I hope they get there - the CL doesn't feel right without Alex del Piero curling in delightful free kicks and generally wreaking more havoc than you ever thought a 35 year old 5'8" Italian could cause on a football pitch. Forza Juve. Forza Roma. Let's make this a season to remember.

Weekly Round-Up

Unbelievable week of football. Maybe the most entertaining I've ever seen, and that says a lot, considering my bias and the fact that Arsenal only played once and got smashed. Let's take a look at what went down, in order of what I most want to talk about:

1) Roma went top of the league in the Serie A. Which is kind of amazing, especially when one considers the way they started the season; at the end of November, they had lost five of their ten league matches and accumulated a measly eleven points. They were in relegation territory. They haven't lost any of their 23 matches since then. They've defeated Inter, Juve, and Fiorentina. And yet it's been a sneaky climb to the top. Until this moment, I've seen very little in the soccer media world that has mentioned them. Roma aren't really a flashy club, and media coverage has reflected that: they don't have the superstar names of Milan, the self-promotion of Signore Mourinho, or the morbidly fascinating self-destruction of Juve. But I've always considered Roma my Serie A club of choice, although I admittedly don't follow that league as closely as a certain co-author of this blog. Nevertheless, it would be nice to see them win something. I've always rated Vucinic very highly, Totti is a living legend, Luca Toni (an excellent loan signing) deserves a Scudetto for his years of excellent service to the game and to Juan's love of flowing Italian hair, and despite having John Arne Riise and Julio Baptista draped around its neck, the club has somehow found a way to succeed (kidding, mostly, but hey, any opportunity to reference this). Juan (not ours, the Brazilian CB) and Burdisso have stopped leaking goals, which bodes well for both the Brazilian and Argentinian national squads. Even Mexes has looked decent in his limited appearances.

A lot of the credit has to go to Claudio Ranieri, perhaps the most underappreciated manager in world football. This is the man who built Chelsea into a serious force, only to have a certain "Special One" swoop in and take them to the next level. This is the man who led Juve to third place after the club spent a year in the Serie B (anyone who thinks they were finishing higher than that after a year of second division competition is nuts) and then second the next year. Since he's been fired, look how well things have worked out (OK, a little better in the last couple weeks, but still dicey). At any rate, if Roma somehow pull this off, it'll be one of the greatest turnarounds in football history, and Ranieri will get the league title his career so richly deserves. Last year, I only half-jokingly asked Juan why anyone should care about the Italian league. This is why.

2) Messi curb-stomped a depleted Arsenal and in so doing, seriously entered the discussion for GOAT (as if he weren't already there before). Pretty well-tread turf, this, so I'll just move on, but before I do: Xavi. My lord. More on this man later.

3) Man United had an awful week, especially by their standards of recent years. Dumped out of the CL (after coming out like a house on fire), possibly losing Rooney for a few more games, and then drawing against lowly Blackburn yesterday. The game against Bayern was delightful if you were a neutral (or perhaps holding a grudge of some kind, don't know why you would), but totally heartbreaking and demoralizing for United supporters. They wasted Nani's greatest performance in a United shirt (at times I thought Fergie brought back Cristiano and dressed him up like Michael Jackson) and Rooney's fragile ankle for a punch straight to the gut courtesy of one Arjen Robben. And what a punch, might I add. That strike, especially along with Robben's rapidly receding hairline, gave me deja vu.

I just have a few more things to add (cue Cartman voice): Oh nooo, your squad played well and yet was eliminated? You've suffered unfortunate injuries to key players? Awww. Your strikers somehow can't find the net, despite a wealth of chances? Oh bummerrrr. People are scoring wondergoals against you? You're losing or drawing key games at the worst possible time? Welcome to my world, welcome to my hell, Manchester United supporters.

4) Xavi orchestrated an excellent Barca performance to defeat Madrid in El Clasico for the fourth time running. This means Pep has won every meeting between the clubs since he took over. Messi got the opener and Pedro finished the second very well, but for me, Xavi was the standout player on the pitch. A lot of people talk about Messi as the second coming of Maradona, but Xavi is the second coming of... well, actually, it's hard to say. Zidane? He certainly can control a midfield like Zizou. Platini? His passes are inch-perfect like the original French maestro. But he doesn't score as much as either one. And he's 5'7" (same as Iniesta, and something I frequently forget). Hmm... Guardiola? Nah, Pep was more defensive-minded. And Xavi's better. Ah, forget it, comparisons like this are stupid. I'll just say that in twenty years, we'll be talking about current players and trying to figure out which one is the second coming of Xavi. And that's about the highest praise possible.


5) Maybe Villa midfielder James Milner John Terry-ed John Terry and slept with Mrs. Terry while she was taking some time away from the "Dad of the Year." That's the only explanation I can imagine for this absolutely horrendous challenge by the Chelsea captain in the FA Cup semifinal. Also, look at Terry inititally pretend like he's the one injured and then protest the yellow card (when instead he should have been showered with about ten reds - also, how awesome would it be if instead of just showing the red card, the referee grabbed a handful and literally threw them onto the player like confetti for particularly egregious behavior?). Keep it classy, JT.

6) Let's all laugh at Spurs and send a high-class Thai hooker to Avram Grant for overseeing Pompey's shock FA Cup semifinal victory. Relegated after Saturday's result, they somehow played their way into a second day out at Wembley a few hours ago. Well played, gentlemen. Well played, indeed.

Barça Bleeds

"Today's agenda:
We have your new boots up in the Sentra. Go to the Emirates, tell them Arsene sent-ya. You should feel strange if no goals are exchanged - just remain as calm as possible and if not, take more shots, we know how you do. Please make your win clean, no conceded goals in between, beat them and flee the scene. Or else, your legacy is on the shelf, we mean this Andrei. I got the trophies to blow the wall out, clear the mall out. Don't worry about the fallout, word to Cesc, I bet Barça are p*$#sy. The thought of this win pushes me. Cesc pay attention, these owners are just henchmen, if you get sold they'll get paid, and extra probably. Promise me you won't leave us." "I promise," but of course Cesc had his fingers crossed.

Barça bleeds just like us. Picture Arsene being scared of a team that breathes the same air as his. Barça bleeds just like us. Arsene would rather go toe to toe with all of y'all, running is not his protocol.

Arsene and Cesc agreed to come out shootin is silly because Barça have Messi - so Arshavin plans to freak 'em while trying to ignore Titi Henry, who, well, that's a long story. "Cesc get the gasoline because, this spot, Arsenal is about to blow this. Right here at the Emirates is the perfect place, if Barca's offside trap is late, they will meet their fate."
"Theo, pass the gasoline." And he passed Arsene Kerosene. "Whatever, it's flammable, my hunger is unexplainable."
Arsene struck the match and just what he expected, Dani Alves ejected in seconds and here comes two opposite sexes - one Puyol, one Marquez. As soon as the whistle blew Arsenal started blastin. Guardiola's jaw hit the flour, Andrei was laughin. Chance after chance, Song knows our first goal won't be long. The crowd got real loud but still seemed like they would allow it. In the 90th minute this draw was surely over as the cross came from far but can you believe it, Arshavin shanked it over the bar.

Stupid Gooners.

Finishing Strong

Before we get to tomorrow's mammoth clash, I'd like to give my congratulations to United, Inter, Madrid, and Bayern for winning their respective leagues. None of those victories seemed "wrong" or unexpected in any way. In every case, it was clearly the best team that won.

The same goes for Porto and Lyon, but here I'm not sure if I should be offering my congratulations or my condolences. Yes, they won their leagues, but now they can look forward to having their quality players stolen by teams from the "Big Three" leagues.

Three things I've been thinking about during this lengthy hiatus:

1. Both the Serie A and the EPL had fantastic finishes, with the league hanging in the balance until the final Sunday. And in both leagues, it was the favorite who finished on top and the persistent underdog who fell short. I found it particularly fitting the way United and Inter won their last games, with Ronaldo and Ibrahimovic, the true offensive catalysts and stars of their squads, rising to the occasion and breaking the deadlock. Both players have often had their pedigree in important matches questioned, and it was a real coup for both to secure a championship for their respective sides. I don't completely agree with my esteemed colleague that Inter were uncatchable; scoreless at the half against a team desperate to stay up in monsoon weather had to have even the most staunch Inter supporter nervous. But as soon as Mancini called for Ibrahimovic off the bench, you could see Nerazzuri confidence rise. And with good reason.

(Also, for those who watched that match, has it ever been more apparent that a player would score from the moment he was brought on? Zlatan's first touch was an attempt at goal which went wide, but if you watched closely, I'm pretty sure you could actually see him mentally adjusting his scope.)

2. Barca are in absolute disarray. In any other year, I'm sure Juan and I would have been leaping at the chance to jot down some thoughts about El Clasico, but there was a shocking gulf in class this year between the two old rivals, and it really showed. Pep Guardiola has his work cut out for him, and things won't get any easier if they lose half the players that have already been mentioned in transfer rumors: Gaucho, Titi, Sammy, 'Brotta, Magico, Gio, Kolo Jr., etc. Who's going where will be a good topic to accompany the Euros this summer.

3. I'm extremely optimistic about tomorrow's match. These are definitely the two best teams in Europe. Chelsea-United has admittedly been a borefest for the last few years (hell, Chelsea-anyone has the potential to become sports tryptophan), as both teams warily try to avoid committing that killer error instead of actually taking chances and being creative in the hopes of scoring, but their recent, enthralling showdown at the Bridge gives me hope. As some have already said, an early goal would be extremely welcome, as it will naturally up the tempo and urgency of the match.

Weekend Preview

In Italy and Spain, things seem to have settled back into the status quo, but the Premier League is set for a photo finish. Let's take a look at the key matchups for all three.

KING JUAN CARLOS I

Almeria (8th) vs. Barcelona (2nd). Barca, Barca, Barca. Sigh. I personally think they've blown it at this stage, but there's still plenty of football left to be played. After closing the gap to two points with Real Madrid, they promptly lost to Villareal (no shame there, but you'd hope for at least a draw at home) and are now chasing from eight points back. The safe money says that if they want any shot whatsoever, they'll need a convincing win against Almeria because Madrid has a cupcake game against Coruna. That won't be the easiest of tasks, however. Aside from the injury to NM1 (New Maradona #1) and some dissent in the ranks, they'll be facing a decent Almeria side that has made shockingly good progress since being promoted last season and which plays well at home. Of course, that has been tempered as of late as they've failed to win since February 17th.

The verdict: Almeria don't score very many goals, but they don't concede many, either. And especially not at home, where they're allowing something close to a goal every two games. Not bad for a team that was playing in the Segunda Division last season. However, I think Barca will put their poor performance against the Yellow Submarine behind them and someone (probably Eto'o) will find the net. Almeria 0 - 1 Barcelona.

PRESIDENT GIORGIO NAPOLITANO

Roma (2nd) vs. AC Milan (5th). Easy pick for best game of the week. Here we have two teams going in opposite directions: Roma fresh off their dismantling of Real Madrid in the Champions League, and Milan still bruised from the one they received at the hands of Arsenal. Over the weekend, however, Milan bounced back with a 3-1 smackdown of Empoli as Kaka and Ambrosini contributed two late goals. Roma continued their good form by cruising to victory at Napoli. Both teams have everything to play for here; Roma can really apply the pressure if a very vulnerable looking Inter slip up, and Milan are desperate to reach that fourth Champions League spot.

The verdict: Roma are a very, very good home team. They've only lost once, and that was early in the season when they had to play 10 men against a rampant Inter side (the result was a 4-1 statement game for the champs). Since then, they've been near-perfect at the Stadio Olimpico. However, Milan have been distinctly stronger on the road this year, getting a result 11 of 14 times. Add to that fact that this is their only remaining competition, and you have to believe that their motivation will be greater. But despite this, I think they're too tired and out of sorts at the moment. It took two moments of brilliance to get a win in their last game, and meanwhile, Totti, Taddei, Mancini and Vucinic have all been in sparkling form. There are some good goals in this one, I reckon. Roma 3 - 1 AC Milan.

QUEEN ELIZABETH II

Arsenal (1st) vs. Middlesbrough (12th). I was considering spotlighting Villa vs. Pompey, but since the title race is so close, it just made sense to profile this one. This is a dangerous weekend for Arsenal. They're up by two points, but one can expect that to become a one point deficit as soon as United are done thrashing Derby County. Meanwhile, Chelsea are favorites to gain ground at Sunderland. The Gunners have had three straight draws against opponents they should have beaten. Now, they're up against the only team to defeat them in the league this year. Of course, Boro are having troubles of their own. This month, they've lost to Reading, squandered a great chance to win the FA Cup now that the giants are gone by collapsing against Cardiff, and snatched a draw from the jaws of victory by surrendering a (pretty harsh) penalty to Villa.

The verdict: Van Persie returns. All season long, Gunners fans have been able to turn away criticism and stem despair by pointing to the missing Dutchman (and Rosicky too, but that's another story). That won't be the case anymore, as he is apparently fit and ready for action. If he's the savior everyone has been clamoring for, now would be the chance to prove it. Boro are in a run of bad form and the game is at Fortress Emirates. Expect to hear the old song. Arsenal 1 - 0 Boro.