Blog Archives

Once upon a time Mexico fans were happy

Do you remember that we used to win? I do.

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It’s OK if you don’t remember

Let’s face it, TRI-istas. It’s been a rough summer. So harsh that I’ve nearly given up trying to keep up with all my commentary. Mainly, I’ve resorted to sharing my foul-mouthed two cents with they guy next to me at the bar, nursing our wounds and our beers together.

PERO BASTA YA!

The pity party must end. We must get our shit together because it’s not over. On Tuesday, with a new coach, el TRI faces its second-leg game against the U.S. This is a movie script waiting to happen — rise from the ashes. Rise, guerreros. RISE.

It has been more than 30 years since Mexico failed to qualify for a World Cup. We are an institution at these events. We are a serious presence, both vocally and physically. We travel for our team. We pack stadiums. We inflict our lovably crude fandom on others. We land like locusts in cities and buy out all merchandise. We keep economies humming.

That means that if we fall short, more than just Mexico fans will be crying into their tequila and singing sappy mariachi songs with the guy next to them at the bar. You all will. 

PHOTOS: Top two are from the London Olympics 2012, where Mexico took home the gold medal; Chuy Corona celebrates during a World Cup qualifying match against Guyana; Julio Gomez during the drama-filled U17 World Cup in 2011; the 2011 Gold Cup winners.

 

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Wave your flag right, cabron!

Everyone knows flags are part and parcel of soccer games. They’re right up there with jerseys, face paint and the wave (… unless you’re English …).

But god only knows how many freaking Mexicans keep waving the flag backwards??! Too damn many to count. That’s how many. Every TRI game I’ve been to or seen on TV has some idiot jumping up and down shaking/waving the flag the wrong way.

For fracks sake, the team is called el TRI, tricolor. Everyone knows the three colors are green, white and red. NOT red, white and green!

Please, mis mexicanos, quit embarrassing me and your mamas at home. When you spot the cameraman, make sure you’re holding the GREEN WITH RIGHT HAND.

Like so …

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Not, like so …

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PHOTOS: From Thursday’s Gold Cup game between Mexico and Canada. Marco Fabian (10) and fans are celebrating a successful penalty shot.

Missing 3 more

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The last few World Cup qualifying matches have come at inopportune times for me. So when Friday’s game between Mexico and Panama was scheduled for 7 p.m., I made it a priority to sit down, sit back and enjoy it.

I got my seat at the bar. I got my beer. I even got my game on three different screens. What I didn’t get was my THREE POINTS!!!

Again we tied. How tiresome. And now we’re in a three-way tie with 7 points. Silver lining recognition: At least Mexico has moved out of the danger zone.

Time to ratchet up the pressure.

US soccer missing that love spark

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I’ve wondered for some time now why there’s such resistance to a full-bodied embrace of soccer/football in the United States. I think I’m finally able to articulate my hypothesis.

Prostitutes.

A number of current events stories in recent weeks/months has led me to the conclusion that America will never be as enthusiastic about soccer; never deify their league-leading players; never bring communities/societies to standstills as the rest of the world does until it has the full support of its sex workers. And since prostitution is illegal in the U.S. (save Nevada), it makes logical sense that soccer enthusiasts will remain pocketed throughout the country.

My proof:

  • Nigeria’s women of the night/day/mid-afternoon provided extra incentive by offering a full week of free sex if the men’s national team won the African Cup of Nations. They did.
  • Brazil’s associated sex workers are business savvy women. They’re preparing themselves for Confederations Cup 2013 and World Cup 2014 with free language classes. Must diversify.
  • In Greece, a couple of bordellos have emerged as the main sponsors/saviors for some amateur teams. Never fear; pros to the rescue.

In this light, the Mexican contingent that was sent to the 2011 Copa América was only attempting to maintain positive soccer-prostitute international relations.

Disclaimer: This is neither pro- nor anti- advocacy, just well-observed facts.

PHOTO: Credit REUTERS/Wolfgang Rattay

What?! You think this is a game?!!

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Yep. That’s kinda how we all feel, Maza.

Yesterday, during the hexagonal kickoff match against Jamaica in Estadio Azteca, Mexico put on such a lackluster show and failed to capitalize on its home-field advantage. You’re playing in the clouds practically (7,900-foot elevation)!! MAKE THEM RUN.

It got so bad that fans started booing our own team and cheering every time Jamaica had the ball. I’m sure the captain didn’t appreciate any of that.

We scraped by with 1 point, by the grace of God. Read:  By the blessings of Jesus.

Jose de Jesus Corona was the one person responsible for keeping Mexico, the regional leader, from falling oh-so-hard from grace. Aside from that spectacular diving save, Chuy had a few more moments where he punched out incoming shots and smothered balls during one-on-one breakaways.

Good stats, of course, for any goalie. But not when that goalie represents a team that has been on the rise. Get your shit together, guerreros. This isn’t a game anymore. It’s a fight to the World Cup.

PHOTO: Mexico captain Francisco ‘MAZA’ Rodriguez flipped off camera while Corona gives interview. Irony, here, is that Corona is the loose cannon you should watch out for off-field antics.

Soccer’s fat cows

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Last week, California Gov. Jerry Brown gave the State of the State address. He’s been known to be cerebral, philosophical and funny (septuagenarian humor). His speech made allusions to biblical stories, philosophers of yore and even the Little Engine that Could.

It is in this same vein, that I borrow from Jerry Brown, who borrowed from Genesis:

Pharaoh once dreamed a dream of seven glorious, fat-bottomed cows that walked out of the Nile. They were followed by seven sickly, bony cows. Then, the latter ate the former. Joseph interpreted the dream to mean that seven years of plenty would be followed by seven of famine.

And that, in a nutshell, is how I feel about soccer.

Didn’t see that coming, did you? Did you???

Actually, my feelings are flipped. I feel like I went through a severe drought of games. And, now I’m drowning in television recordings and internet streaming.

Case in point, tomorrow my beloved TRI returns to play Denmark in the evening. But earlier in the day, I’ll be working whilst watching the Real Madrid – Barcelona clásico online.

My seven fat cow days/months are upon us. That means more to watch and definitely more to write home to mom about. Be back soon!

For your information: 
Real Madrid v. Barcelona 12 p.m. PST, Bernabeu

Mexico v. Denmark 7 p.m. PST, Arizona (ESPN, UNIVISION)

 

 

Greece’s tramp-stamp of approval

Just last week, I was railing against the FIFA man (as I’m prone to do) for its dilapidated, anachronistic way of ranking national teams. As a person of Mexican descent, I’m fiercely proud and possessive of the soccer team.

Look. No puedo tapar el sol con un dedo. Let’s put the cards on the table. It’s a terrible economy. Poverty and corruption have run amok. Drug lords rule with intimidation and grisly violence. And, the cherry on top, un BEEP HIJO DE LA BEEP BEEEEEEP is going to lead the country for the next six years. So yeah, I take out all my frustrations on FIFA for not recognizing one of Mexico’s current bright, shiny spots.

But I was too harsh…

Part of my rant included laying out the English and Greeks. I won’t apologize for the English, but the Greeks certainly didn’t deserve it. And, more so, now that I’ve learned of the clever revenue sources for their soccer teams—Prostitutes!

They’re plucky! And, they’re in dire straits. Worse even than Mexico right now. Who am I to disparage their one bright, shiny spot? A Top 10 ranking on the national stage is like the sun on a cloudy day.

I take it back, Greece. Meant no offense. I tip my pimp hat to you and your lady-of-the-night uniform tramp stamps. ¡OPA!

PHOTOS: Just can’t blot out the sun. And the “Villa Erotica” tramp-stamp of approval on a Greek soccer jersey.

Chicharito transfer rumors: Good for me


By now the whole world knows that Chicharito is the odd man out in Manchester United. That team is stacked with talent and striking power and Chicharito hasn’t seen as many minutes (translate: scored as much) as he has in the past. Now with the acquisition of Golanda’s Robin van Persie, the transfer rumors heat up all over again.

It’s hard to hear transfer rumors circling one your favorites, especially after being with the club for so few years. I feel unappreciated. I feel overlooked. I feel like I’m wasting my best years keeping the bench seats warm. That’s how I feel. Who knows how Chicharito feels? Apparently, when he’s hanging with his Mexican friends, he could care less about Manchester United. Good for you, Javi!

It’s particularly painful for me because of how Hollywood-perfect his story of ascension was. Many years ago, pre South Africa, scouts had seen Chicharito play for the Chivas of Guadalajara. He impressed them much. Obvio. But they wanted to wait to make a move on him because he was still chavito. And then the epiphany landed. Dude, what if this guy goes to the World Cup and has a break-out performance? (He did.) The deal was so secretive and so fast that no one really knew what had happened until Chicharito was filling out work waiver forms. He became the first Mexican at ManU and scored 20 goals that first year.

As much as I feel that Fergie is ungrateful. I actually welcome these rumors… anything that’ll put Chicharito on Real Madrid. It’ll make my life easier tracking him if he’s playing on my beloved team. It gets difficult keeping tabs on all your players, especially when they play in different leagues, different countries, different continents. To me, Chicharito and La Liga makes perfect sense. (Just not at Camp Nou!)

He can continue to impress the European clubs tonight as Mexico closes out its first stage of WCQ2014 with a game against El Salvador tonight, 6 p.m. PST

el grito de Wembley

¡Vivan los héroes que nos dieron oro! ¡Viva Peralta! ¡Viva Dos Santos! ¡Viva Corona! ¡Viva Fabián! ¡Vivan Chatón y Herrera! ¡Viva el orgullo nacional! ¡Viva el campeón olímpico! ¡Viva México! ¡Viva México! ¡Viva México!

If it’s not perfectly obvious yet, Mexico won Olympic gold — hell, an Olympic medal — for the first time. Congratulations to the team, staff and fans who never stopped believing. This is my version of El Grito de Dolores, our independence proclamation.

 

No que no!!! Mexico goes for gold

I told you so!

The worn-out refrain of any Mexico fan is that we are going to win — the match, the tournament, the gold medal. People will always support their teams, but Mexico fans are blindingly optimistic that borders on naïve. We are fanatics. The country can be going to shit but if El TRI performs well (even the u-17), all’s well in the world.

The flipside of that coin is the contingent of naysayers who always think Mexico will lose. The people who think we have a bunch of talent but no idea how to convert it to goals and wins. The low-expectation crowd that isn’t disappointed when we lose and is surprised when we win.

Like my cousin…

That first text arrived shortly after the start of the second half of the Mexico-Japan Olympic semifinal. They were tied 1-1. She says Mexico will play their hearts out but lose, like always. I “politely” tell her to shut up. And seconds later, Mexico scores!!! GOOOOOOOOLLLLLLL de MEXICOOOOOOOO

Eat it!

Mexico will be on the medal stand. The quest for Olympic gold continues.