World Cup Out of Context, Part III: Separated by a Common Language...

“They may not be speaking the same language, but they understood each other.” JP Dellacamera

Which is more then I can say for us sometimes…

We don’t just call this game by different names, Soccer vs. Football, we also call the game different ways. American commentators seem to need to fill every moment with talk. If the action is slow, they’ll talk about the player’s lives off the field, or even what they had for breakfast. The English commentators take a more laid back approach, often simply stating the name of the player with the ball then stating the name of the next player with the ball: Donovan… to Dempsey… to Altidore… back to Dempsey. They let you enjoy the run of play, and fill in the details as necessary. The English also have a more colorful palette of idiom from which to choose, some of which has left me scratching my head and trying to figure out what it was he just said. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe we share a common language….

“He’s kept a clean sheet”

“James responds with a nice slide rule ball…”

“That would really put the cat amongst the pigeons…” Ross Dyer

“He put a bulge in the old onion bag!!!” Tommy Smyth

“They’re signing from different hymn sheets…”

“Their passes are bright as a button…”

“The ball was perfectly measured…” Ian Darke

“He has some more cantering, perhaps galloping, left to do…” Derek Rae

“Goals are no longer on ration.” Ian Darke

“Paraguay is very much bossing the show” Adrian Healy

“These players are going to go absolutely potty if this score holds” Adrian Healy

“No one wants to take the game by the scruff of the neck and go forward…” Steve McManaman

“[The Dutch] are capable of beautifully embroidered football” Derek Rae

"It's a Swiss defense that is tighter than a taxman's wallet." Martin Tyler

“It's getting a bit spikey out there.” Adrian Healy

“He's away like an express train.” Adrian Healy

“They are on the Boil!” Martin Tyler

“Mexico has been at 6’s and 7’s for some time.” Ian Darke

“A cracking day of action.” Ian Darke

“Slaps it into the top of the old onion bag.” Tommy Smyth

“He’s got the pedigree to stride on and give it a crack.”

“Spain has passed them to death” Tommy Smyth

“They’re signing from different hymn sheets…”

“[Spain] are giving Portugal a torrid time here” Tommy Smyth

World Cup Out of Context, Part II: Ow, Quit it…

“We’ve seen a lot of good teams at this World Cup… England is not one of them” Shep Messing

You have to wonder sometimes if the commentators plan out everything they mean to say during a game, or if quips sometimes just tumble out of their mouths. I supposed that’s part of the commentators craft, being on the ball, so to speak, with the witty, if not well-timed, analysis. Sometimes it's insightful, other times pithy, and sometimes it’s just plan snarky… and nobody does snarky like British football commentators, we could all learn something from them…



“The French will have to retreat and dig in here…” Adrian Healy They’re used to that!

“That’s what he’s so good at, that’s what he’s so adept at… narrowly missing the target…” Derek Rae of Zigic

“[Gronjaer and Rommedal] are a couple of years beyond their “sale by” date in the Premier League.” Ian Darke

“Orange figures prominently in the stands, but there’s no zest for the men wearing orange in the first half.” Derek Rea

“After the Inquisition they faced after the goalless draw against Uruguay, what awaits [the French] after this result?” “Are they still using the guillotine?” Adrian Healy and Efan Ekoku

“This looks like they’re on a training field, it looks like they were doing it against cones.” Kyle Martino

“The English fans, you have to believe, have a superior advantage in blood alcohol content over their Algerian counterparts…” Chris Fowler

The Player of the Tournament: The Crossbar. The Man of the Match: The Post.

“They do come from the land of Hans Christian Anderson, maybe they do believe in Fairy Tales.” Ian Darke

“Dysfunction at it’s absolute finest. – French Football” Mike Tirico

“The English aren’t just delusional, they’re also miserable.” Chris Fowler

“They’re a country that can punch above their weight generally, but maybe some of the players are just coming to the end of their shelf life.” Ian Darke

"No goals in this game ... ones that count anyway" Ian Darke

“Did you ever realize you could get so many nice moves out of a Honda?” Tommy Smyth

"North Korea lost the plot in the second half." John Harkes

[Brazil] are not role models.” But perhaps they are roll models!

“Flights are getting booked tonight, window seats picked out, and neck pillows are getting blown up. Some teams are going home.”

"Has anyone seen Ronaldo? I can't find him, Portugal can't find him." Tommy Symth

"Portugal is getting dizzy the way Spain is dribbling around them" Tommy Symth

World Cup: Out of Context

“All we’re seeing are preliminary skirmishes in a very long battle… “ So begins the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

We are very much enjoying watching the World Cup this summer. For the first two weeks it was like being on vacation. Nothing gets done around the house, we don’t listen to the news and we ignore the phone (OK, maybe not that last thing, except when there is actually a game on.) Since we no longer have Cable TV, we’ve been watching the games on the Spanish Channels, Univision and Telefutura. For a while we had ESPN3.com providing English commentary in the back ground, until they remembered they were supposed to be restricting the feed and shut it down. Now it’s ESPN Radio, when the local station deigns to put it on instead of their bass fishing special…

Watching the World Cup is almost as much fun for the commentary as the game itself. This Cup, ESPN has recruited a large and varied contingent of English soccer commentators to help fill in for a US sports corps distinctly lacking in soccer expertise. Although why J.P Dellacamera, arguably ESPN’s best and most knowledgeable soccer play-by-play man, was relegated to the ESPN Radio is still baffling. The English commentators have brought with them their own special terminology for the game. Be they snarky remarks, things that, even though we share a common language, make your brain hurt trying to figure out what they just said, or things that, taken out of context are just way too funny..…

As JP Dellacamera said, “Our seatbelts are securely fastened.” Sit back and enjoy the ride…


"Those who aren't interested in football are, of course, welcome to keep working," Stephan Schwarz, head of GRG Services. (Germany)

"It was a masterpiece, if you like fake Rembrandts." Jurgen Klinsmann of Luis Fabiano’s two-handed goal against Ivory Coast.

“I apparently understand the rules of football so well that I know when two Slovenians mug an American, the American gets called for a foul.” Andy Roddick, U.S. Tennis

Dempsey’s playing Greco Roman style…

“A threesome is hard to come by.” Martin Tyler     Isn’t that the story of everybody’s life.

“You just feel like death, you don’t actually die… we get these letters, you see…” Ian Darke explaining the meaning of “Group of Death”

“That’s the only way to slow them down, to stop them by kicking them.” John Harkes

"I shouldn't laugh... there's another bash in the face in case he was needing one." Ally McCoist

“Three points aren’t going to do [the Ivory Coast] any good on the field, they need another touchdown.” JP Dellacamera

"It's a Swiss defense that is tighter than a taxman's wallet." Martin Tyler

“We just wonder if this coffee growing country can give the world a shot of espresso.” Martin Tyler at the start of the Ivory Coast’s last game.

“I think some one slipped an Ambien into his Gatorade at half time.” Glenn Davis

"You begin to understand the game when the legs go. It's a cruelty of life."

"I still prefer women. I am dating Veronica, who is blonde and 31 years old." Diego Maradona after he hugged all of his player before the start of the first game.

"Their skin-tight shirts, replete with nipple-enhancing technology, will be clinging to beer bellies from Glasgow to the Isle of Skye." Roger Bennett (ESPN blog)

“He’s a Mexican Payton Manning…” “A Mexican Who?” The Mexican goalie, Memo Ochoa, who was featured in ads for Powerade, Allstate and several other corporations… but didn’t play in any games….

“I’m looking forward to the injection on Friday.” Tim Howard after suffering a severe rib bruise in the U.S.’s First game.

“Stay out of the net Donovan, put the ball in instead…” Tommy Smyth He did, Tommy, he did.

“It’s Day 9 of the Vuvuzela hangover we all have…” Mike Tirico

The Danish “Van”-guard: van der Wiel, Van Brommel, Van Brockhorst, Van Persie and van der Vaart

“He’s got a left foot you can open a can of soup with…” Derek Rea

“There could be a few drunk Vikings tonight” Efan Ekoku

“Beating England [in 1950] is not winning the World Cup.”

“We just wonder if this coffee growing country can give the world a shot of espresso.” Martin Tyler

Once again, we wonder who's writing coach Bob Bradley's halftime speeches -- Mel Gibson in "Braveheart"? Gene Hackman in "Hoosiers"? John Belushi in "Animal House"? David Hirshey

And last but not least...

"We don't want our people to be preoccupied with seminude, crazy men jumping up and down who are chasing an inflated object," said Sheik Mohamed Osman Arus, head of operations for the Hizbul Islam insurgent group. (Somalia)

Vampires... the Good Kind....

Also known as Florida Blood Services.

I tried to give blood today. Only my blood didn't cooperate. They only got about 1/3 of what they needed. Then a clot stopped the flow... I'll spare you all the gory details. Suffice to say, she didn't do a very good job finding the vein. In the end, there wasn't enough to be useful, except to give me my cholesterol results in 72 hours. ;-(

As the tech aborted the donation she said "You won't have a bruise". Right. Like I believed that. Anything short of getting the vein with the initial stab leaves me bruised. And sometimes, when they do get it on the first stab, I still get a bruise. Today my arm is sore, and yeah, it's bruising....

Every time they "miss" or my arm ends up sore, I wonder why I keep trying. I can't give with my left arm anymore, where there is a larger vein. It's getting to be like some strange game of chance... Will she or won't she get through the donation. Anymore, it's a 50-50 chance that they can't get a full pint. These folks are talented in what they do, but I need more than talent, I need virtuosity, to get my veins. I guess I keep trying because my Dad has a rare blood type. My parents have been donating as long as I can remember. It's a family tradition... so to speak.

I have 2 more pints to go until I have donated 5 gallons in Florida. I have more then 5 gallons, if you count the pints I gave in MA, NY and MD before moving to FL. If and when I get that 5th gallon, I'll seriously consider retiring my veins... Lords knows, they've done their part...

Stepping Out of the Past....

On the banks of the Connecticut River in Holyoke, Massachusetts, in a little known spot, there is exposed the bed of an ancient river, swamp, or inland lake. Preserved in the mud, now turned to rock and tilted toward the river, are ripple marks, bits of plants and tracks... dinosaur tracks.


I never knew about this spot when I was growing up. I always loved dinosaurs. Little did I know that evidence they had walked the earth was just 15 miles away from my home. It wasn't until I was in college, on a field trip, that I first visited the site.

The prints are thought to have been made by a small herd of Eubrontes, 15 foot high, 20 foot long, bipedal carnivores, likely to have been ancestors of the T-rex. There are some 130 prints, which crisscross the outcrop, most walking away from today's river. They left their prints in the mud some 190 million years ago.

We were there after some group had visited to study the three-toed tracks. Most were outlined in chalk, and marked with letters and numbers, to identify each individual. You could easily walk in the steps of a dinosaur, their stride being 4 to 5 feet long, with most individuals tracks numbering 8 to 10 steps across the sloping outcrop. Most prints were about 12-14 inches long and 8 inches wide, but there were a few smaller ones. Were those the tracks of younger individuals? I suppose that is a questions for the experts to answer.

We stayed about 30 minutes. Below us, toward the river, were railroad tracks and more rocks. The sign at the parking area asked people not to cross the tracks. I was tempted to go look, but we didn't go down to the water. Several families were swimming there. One group of teenagers, climbed the hill to look at tracks. To them, there was nothing impressive. The tracks weren't at all what they were expecting. Perhaps they weren't as clear or distinct as they thought they should be. Perhaps they expected models of the creatures that made them to be standing nearby. I guess it's all a matter of perspective. Each to their own.

I thought the tracks were neat. So much so that I wanted to share them. I specifically took Edward down Route 5 in search of them, wanting to show them to him as much as I wanted to see them again for myself, 27-odd years after my first visit. They hold as much intrigue for me now as they did then. It's what has always fascinated me about geology, and is a large part of why I choose that as my career. One simple question: What was here before me? In this spot, beside a highway, down a shallow slope and hidden from view of the road lies an answer to part of that question. Dinosaurs were here, stepping out of the past, to walk across the present and say "I was here before you."



For more information: Dinosaur Footprints, Holyoke, MA

On a Pillar of Fire....

Space Shuttle Atlantis lifts off from Kennedy Space Center... STS 132, her final mission...





















Lost from sight...


...until she peaked out from behind a curl in the clouds generated by her passage, in time for booster separation.


Then continued on her way...

On a pillar of fire....

City on the Edge of Imagination...

Last Saturday three of the neighborhood kids knocked on our door.

"We wanted to ask you permission to build a city at the end of your driveway. Would that be OK?"

I must of looked confused. The oldest explained that when it rained we would get a large puddle at the end of our driveway. When that happened they liked to build cities.

"Can you show me?" I said.

We walked down to the end of the driveway where Rebecca proceeded to explain that puddles formed when it rained because the road was high on one end of our driveway where the tree pushes up the asphalt. She and her bother, Kyle, from across the street, and Jake, from next door, would build cites out of bricks and other things. She was obviously the leader of this merry little band.

"No problem, so long as you clean it up when you're done."

This wasn't the first time they've done this. Edward has watched them a couple of other times. They would bring over sticks, bark, wood scraps and other building blocks. This time they had to supply their own water. It hadn't rained for a few days.

About 30 minutes later I wandered out to see how things were going. Rebecca, the mayor of Puddle City, gave me the grand tour.

"This is my house, and that's Jake's house. Kyle lives over there. That's the hospital, and the opera house. It has a stage where I play oboe." She looked at me. "I really play the oboe, too." The list went on...

"These are smaller houses. Over here I'm building a fire station."

Her brother piped up, "But we're on water..."

"Fine," she said, sounding annoyed, "It's a water station."

Edward and I fixed dinner while the kids continued to build there city. Jake lost a shoe, wandering around in one not-so-white-any-more sock. Cars and bikes passed by, their drivers rubbernecking to see what was so fascinating about a puddle and a small pile of scrap wood. The kids played contently, being careful not to wander into the road too far, and to hop over to the driveway whenever a car went by.

As we were finishing dinner, Kyle came back up to the door.

"Do you want to see it now?" Sure, give me five minutes and I'll be out. "She'll be out in 5 minutes," he shouted to his fellow engineers as he headed back to them.

Like any coastal community what started as a quaint village had become a city of high rises. They'd found some larger pieces of bark and created a number of larger structures. The opera had been the largest building on the water, but now it was only half the size of its neighbors. Most of the other building had been rebuilt or were gone all together. Small "boats" had been replaced by yachts. There was even a whale plying the waters.

I stood marveling at the construction at the end of my driveway. From a couple of buckets of water, and a pile of tree bark, a city had arisen, then grown. There were homes and hospitals, bridges and high rises, and a water department. It had kept these kids occupied from several hours.

Then they were done.

"We have to be home by 6:00."

It was 5:45. The deconstruction began. But it wasn't a hurricane that destroyed the city, but meteors from space. Loose pieces of wood began crashing into the builds. High rises tumbled into the water. Walls fell and boats sank. Then each bit of bark, wood and stone used in the city was gathered up in the big blue bucket they'd used for water. They had to return it to Mr. Joe, he wanted it back when they were done.

In these days of video games and hand held entertainment, three kids had created a city out of bits of junk. No flashy graphics, no sound cards, and no controllers. They had built it all from scrap, and when they were done, it was all gone, like so many electrons on a TV screen. And as I watched them from my front window, I remembered the days when I built imaginary cities, and I smiled. Sometimes the best entertainment is your own imagination.