Gazza

Fingers in Ears, La-la-la
June 11, 2012

June 26, 1996. England, Germany, Euro semi-finals. I’m at work. My “office” is a former supply closet, hemmed in by a men’s room, and a women’s room. But for this day only such a perch is good I’m cocooned (if by bathrooms). Safe—no one can get me. At home, the VCR is whirring peacefully; I even thought to set it to run long, just in case. I can do this; I know I can. I had been in the United States for 18 months and had become a black belt at avoiding soccer scores. You learn quickly, with so many big European games being played while America heedlessly goes about its workday.

Funny Old Wayne
June 09, 2010

The average Premier League club has very little to do with you, the supporter, and your life. Yes, it is named after your town, but most of the players come from elsewhere, countries you may never have heard of, stay two or three seasons, then leave. The uniform displays the logo of an offshore gambling website. The owners fly in from the Cayman Islands to snap up your club with foreign oil money, mall money, steel money, or money loaned to them by investors which they are then happy to freight onto your club’s debt.

England vs. USA
June 08, 2010

As someone who, like Luke, grew up in England and now thinks of himself as an American, I can sympathize with his decision not to watch on Saturday, out of a feeling that there's just Too Much There.  I also strongly agree that America is awesome. People have an attitude of openness to possibilities, and to improving their lives, that you don't find anywhere else. There's less cynicism and poorly-disguised jealousy when good things happen to someone else. American girls are more interested than are English girls in English men—and some even play soccer.