Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Matt Christiana makes me want to put one in my own ear


Goddammit, this commercial contains so many things that I hate. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Matt Christiana is now my least favorite person in America. Possibly my least favorite person in all of North America, although I'm pretty sure Cristiano Ronaldo is still the world-wide belt holder.

Gratuitous aside: 3 more for Messi! FCB all-time leading scorer at age 24! Holy hell--viva el rey! I can't stop using exclamation points!

First off, let's start with his nasty-ass hair. You know the situation is severe when even a stylist can't get your hair to look presentable for a nationally-aired commercial. I shudder to think about what it looks like on a daily basis, particularly since anybody who is that passionate about Taco Bell's "cuisine" clearly has something of a deviant relationship with grease.

Even beyond the disaster residing on top of his cranium and his unhealthy passion for Taco Bell, look at how this dick treats his friends. At 0:13, dear lord, is he giving his unsuspecting friend a wet willie? Is there anybody older than 13 who still thinks wet willies are acceptable? Matt Fucking Christiana does, evidently. As if getting dragged across the country in a confined space with your douchebaggery wasn't enough of a punishment? Jesus, Matt, the only reason he went to sleep was to escape from you and your shit-eating grin for a few brief minutes, and you couldn't even give him that little bit of peace.

I'm not even going to make fun of that abomination he calls his mustache. No degree of difficulty in that. You just go ahead and fill in your joke here.

And then when they get there, I think the best way I could describe his friend's reactions is "barely disguised disappointment." You know when you're friend's been talking up a movie for days or weeks, and you finally watch it with them and it's awful? You plaster that halfhearted smirk on your face throughout the thing and mock it incessantly in your head, right? Well, I feel like that describes their entire relationship with Matt. I wouldn't be shocked if he got them into the car at gunpoint. They, like almost all of the non-stoner population of America, probably realized at once that a taco with a Doritos shell would be vile. Only one jackass in that advertisement seems even remotely excited.

Also, how environmentally irresponsible was this little adventure? Driving 1800 miles round-trip in what appears to be a pisshole of a car just for some fucking tacos? His carbon footprint probably looks like Paul Bunyan's. At least when Paul Bunyan cut down a bunch of trees and raped a landscape we got some lakes out of the deal. All Matt's jaunt down the highway produced was long-term climate change and (hopefully) his eventual heart failure.

Matt Christiana, I wish upon you a death most painful. I wish that your "friends" (I can't use the term anymore without sarcastic quotation marks) hogtie you in the Taco Bell parking lot and leave you to be picked at by buzzards and hobos. I wish that you contract an extremely virulent and painful case of food poisoning that renders you incapable of leaving your bathroom for days at a time and makes your asshole burn with the fury of a thousand supernovae. Then maybe, just maybe, you will have some idea of the pain you've inflicted on the unsuspecting American public by subjecting us to this commercial.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

All-Literature First XI

Holy shit. Well, I'm back. I don't really feel like writing about Mass Effect at the moment, having spent the majority of my leisure time over the past two weeks playing or thinking about it--interrupted only by my schedule of employment and a daylong bender on St. Patrick's Day. I regret nothing.

I've been mulling on this idea for a while now, but never really had an opportunity to put it down in a coherent manner until now. My musings began when I was poking through Galeano's Soccer in Sun and Shadow (a fine read, for those who are curious) and stumbled through a line in the final third of the book where the Uruguayan states something to the effect that "tell me how you play, and I will tell you who you are." Evidently, the manner with which we run around a predefined rectangular area in shorts and kick an inflated sphere is the window to our inner workings. Who knew the profession of psychology was so superfluous? Instead I took it in the opposite direction--I looked at characters whose personalities I knew and extrapolated them onto a hypothetical pitch.

So one thing leads to another up in the old brainbox, and I find myself pondering things like "Who would be the most offensively inclined character in As I Lay Dying?" or "Who would take the penalties in Hard Times?" It was about  that time I realized I may have a problem.

OK, here we go. I've tried to include a mix of contemporary and classic characters, simply for the sake of variety. We'll play 4-3-3 for no other reason than I like the 4-3-3.

 Keeper: Monsieur Meursault (L'Etranger, Camus) Keepers are different, it's universally agreed, and Meursault certainly fits the bill on that score. It's hardly surprising, given Camus' pedigree between the sticks, that his most famous character would be a natural in the position (Camus played goal at the University of Algiers). Meursault has the solitary nature and steady disposition to hold down the fort, but underneath that he's also got the fire to support his teammates--and probably scare the piss out of any forward who has to challenge him in the air. Gets the starting nod over Ron Weasley.

Left back: Humbert Humbert (Lolita, Nabokov) Humbert is the thinking man's player: never out of position, never tricked by a stepover, never baited into a poor pass. Doesn't do anything spectacularly right but certainly never gets anything spectacularly wrong. Not averse to getting forward if the situation permits (he does like to score, after all--hey-o!) but he won't abandon his defensive responsibilities to do so. Problems could arise for certain road games, seeing as he is legally barred from some parks and schools.

Center back: Jean Valjean (Les Miserables, Hugo) A workhorse at the back. Marks everybody, tackles everything that gets near him, wins every header in his own half. Spends the whole match cleaning up everybody's shit and making Meursault's life easy. Not much of an offensive presence, but has been known to pick up the occasional goal from a corner. He's also maybe the only player in the side still wearing Adidas Copa Mundials.

Center back: Jaime Lannister (A Song of Ice and Fire series, Martin) As Commander of the Kingsguard, he's obviously concerned with protecting what's important in his life (regardless of how political his appointment was initially). He plays a very different center back from Jean Valjean, one that involves a great deal more trash talk and aggressiveness. Sometimes the risks he takes backfire--there's a reason he only has one hand, after all--but those instances are outweighed by the havoc his workrate and bravado wreak.

Right back: Don Quixote (Don Quixote, de Cervantes) The old boy on the squad, Don Quixote makes up for his distinct lack of pace with a defensive craftiness and competitive zest that younger competition can rarely match. As long as his Dulcinea is on the sidelines (or rather, as long as he believes that she is) not much will get past him down the flank. Not the most offensive outside back in La Mancha, but prone to the occasional flight of fancy down the touchline. Also good in the air, albeit more as a product of his gangly stature than any fantastic aerodynamic inclinations.


Left midfield: Huckleberry Finn (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn, Twain) He won't be able to join the boys in the bar afterwards, but Finn can hang with his more elderly teammates during the game. He's obviously a work in progress, but even now he possesses both the pace to beat men down the line or the touch to cut it inside them. Discipline could be an issue: his carefree attitude means he's often out of position or careless with his defensive responsibilities, but what adolescent does have perfect discipline? It's a good thing that Humbert Humbert and Yossarian play nearby, to keep his temper in check when necessary.

Center midfield: John Yossarian (Catch-22, Heller) Yossarian's always been about keeping it real, and he does that in the middle of the park with aplomb. The 4-3-3 formation is weaker in the center than a 4-4-2 or 4-5-1, so the center midfielder is forced to do twice the work with half the help. But luckily Yossarian is used to that after his extended tour of duty in the 256th Squadron. Drapes himself on the opposing number ten, busts up incoming runs, links up with the frontline and starts the counterattack. He's not afraid to have a shot from distance, as a nod to his roots as a bombardier. Think Scott Parker, with a more subversive worldview.

Right midfield: Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Tolkien) Sam's schtick has always been about help: helping keep the garden at Bag End, helping Frodo across Middle-Earth, carrying his inert master up the slopes of Mount Doom in the finale. Maybe he'll get a little more heroic in his role in the midfield, although I suspect a fair bit of his time will be spent helping Yossarian cover for Huck Finn's defensive indiscretions. On the other hand, he's resourceful, clever, and always seem to be in the right spot. Maybe not terribly dangerous as a goalscoring threat, but he could certainly create for the front three or pick out a final ball. One can only hope there's less sexual tension between Sam and his teammates than Sam experienced with Frodo.

Left wing: Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games trilogy, Collins) Loads of pace, deft touch down the line, crosses usually on point. A surprisingly good finisher, on the rare occasions she finds herself in front of goal, but she's much more home out on the wing and in the channel. She won't win too many in the air and can get knocked off the ball if you can catch her, but good luck with that. Don't fuck with her, or you'll be getting a kick to the ankle and your hand stepped on when you're down.

Center forward: Zaphod Beeblebrox (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, Adams) He's cocky. He's arrogant. He'll never shut the fuck up. His boots are giving the spectators migraines. All the opponents and most of the neutral observers hate him. Hell, half of his own team probably hates him. But here's the thing: he's good. He's spent the first ten minutes making obvious runs into offside positions, demanding fouls that clearly weren't committed, and talking his marker's ear off all the while. And just when you're writing him off as a scrub--BAM! He's in at goal, around the keeper, and scored. Whammy. Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters on him at the postgame drink-up. He'll want to take all the penalties, although Katniss might have something to say about that if she can get the ball first.


Right wing: Rupert Angier (The Prestige, Priest) He's a magician. He's tricksy. He's good on the ball. Where were you expecting me to go with this? It's not always very complicated. Angier's defensive workrate is fairly abysmal, but I suppose I'm willing to overlook that for the pleasure of watching him dribble through the other team. His finishing and crossing are acceptable--not great, but acceptable--yet pale compared to his technical skills.

Captain: Jean Valjean Calm, dignified, always the voice of reason. A reassuring presence for the entire side and somebody everyone respects in times of duress. Maybe the only person on the team that Beeblebrox would listen to.



Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Taking Earth back...brb...

Mass Effect 3 just released--going off the grid for a few days. Don't wait for me for dinner.

Friday, March 2, 2012

USMNT v. Italy review

A day late, a dollar short, I know, but here we go with my impressions with the United States' win over Italia yesterday.

Before I go into any more detail, I'd like to put it out there that ANY win for the USMNT is a good win, especially when we can claim a high-profile scalp like that of Italy. Especially with the opening phases of World Cup qualification looming, winning is a fantastic habit to get into.

So, now that we've got that cleared up, I'm going to have to go on record as being a little disappointed by yesterday's match. I know, I know. First ever victory over Italy. Beating the four-time World Cup champs on their own soil. All of this is fine. Fantastic, even. It's a grand accomplishment. But I still find myself a little disappointed by the performance yesterday.

International friendlies are more about performances than results. The result on Tuesday was a good one. Our performance, conversely, I found to be mundane. Anybody who's followed the USMNT over the past few World Cup cycles was familiar with yesterday's game. Defend well. Absorb pressure. Win possession in midfield and try to break upfield quickly. Grab the lead against the run of play. Trust Timmy Howard and the back four to keep us in front. Proceed to profit. It's not a bad system--hell, it's been working for us the past decade, hasn't it?--but it goes against what the emphasis on this team is now supposed to be.

Jurgen Klinsmann's reign was supposed to be about getting America to take the next step--to playing teams like Italy as equals. About retaining possession and playing good, technical soccer (football?) against the world's best. Bob Bradley was fired because he produced too many results like the one we had yesterday--practical, ugly, yet effective (at least, he probably was...I can't claim firsthand knowledge of US Soccer's inner workings).

And personally, I love that approach to soccer (football?). For the US, particularly, it's fantastic way to play. It emphasizes our strengths (pace, athleticism in midfield, commitment to solid defending, goalkeeping) and downplays our weaknesses (lack of technical prowess in midfield, inconsistent forward play, outside backs' inability to get forward effectively). For me, this style of soccer wasn't broke, and we consequently didn't need to fix it. Suni Gulati and company evidently felt differently.

The progress Klinsmann has made in his quest for possession and technical domination will get a different kind of test in World Cup qualifiers--starting in June--where the US will be favored in virtually every match it plays. Objectively speaking, we SHOULD control possession and boss the game against the likes of Barbados & Antigua and Guatemala. While there's no such thing as a gimme World Cup qualifier (that goes double when we're on the road) we have no excuse not to progress with relative ease. These games will provide a better barometer about the team's progress under Klinsmann.

If we put on a Barcelona-esque display of passing and savvy, I'll be willing to buy into the new reign. On the other hand, if we have to resort to kickball and set pieces to triumph over inferior opposition, I'll have to wonder if Klinsmann has the right plan to take the team to the next level: consistently playing on level terms with the world's best. Not an easy task, but US Soccer's sacking of Bradley shows that the powers that be weren't content to play efficient counterattacking soccer (football?). The new challenge is to become one of the big boys, and not just play them well. It's still early in the World Cup cycle and the boys still have lots of time to settle into Klinsmann's system and develop but I have to conclude that early results have been at best mediocre. I'd love to be proven wrong in the future, but I can't help but wonder why exactly we got rid of Bob Bradley in the first place.