Walking through Zurich's Old Town this Saturday, I came across a crowd of people, some kicking soccer balls, some drinking beers, some wearing blue and white jerseys, some with blue and white scarves. It looked interesting enough, so I wandered over and asked someone, "Sprechen sie Englisch?" "No," he replied. I found someone else who replied with some pause, "No -- but he does," and proceeded to learn what was going on from his friend.
It turned out that a group of Grasshopper Club Zurich soccer fans had assembled to rally for a new stadium a few hours before that evening's home match. Their club, the oldest in Zurich and most successful in Swiss soccer history, has been sharing the 25,000-capacity stadium -- about the size of one-year-old Red Bull Arena in Harrison, NJ -- of their local archrivals, FC Zurich, for the past four seasons. A new stadium was planned at the site of the old stadium when it was demolished, but it appears the project has stalled. Clearly, Grasshopper CZ fans are not happy about this and were voicing their displeasure before marching 30 minutes to see their favorite team play.
It's ironic that, four months after Zurich-based FIFA awarded the 2018 and 2022 World Cup tournaments to oil-rich Russia and Qatar, the two most popular soccer clubs in its own back yard appear in an uncomfortable stadium sharing situation. Russia has 13 stadiums to build or reconstruct in order to host the World Cup in seven years, and Qatar has to build 12 stadiums from scratch in order to host the World Cup four years later.
Quatar was controversially awarded the World Cup with a bid that promised, among other far-fetched ideas, to dismantle and reassemble its World Cup stadiums in other parts of the world needing them. Did the Qatar World Cup bid organizers have Zurich, not exactly an underdeveloped part of the world, in mind? Surely not. But the irony shouldn't be lost on FIFA's executives. That's assuming, of course, that FIFA's leadership even knows what's going on in their home town -- probably as far-fetched an idea as Qatar's to air condition all their new (outdoor) stadiums (if not the entire country) and then give them away!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Cosmos soccer, once… and again?
One six-letter word that makes me smile with fond memories of wonderful moments and great people is “Cosmos.” It makes me think of a time in the late 1970s and early 1980s when a galaxy of soccer stars drew huge crowds to Giants Stadium. I can still recall Pele scoring three times in a match, Giorgio Chinaglia inciting the crowd with an important goal, Franz Beckenbauer weaving through a maze of opponents, Carlos Alberto coolly stepping up to intercept a pass, and Johan Neeskens slide tackling a ball to set up a counterattack.
I also remember a pig roasting in the parking lot before a championship match, fans slowly, loudly and constantly chanting “Cosmos” inside the stadium, traveling with other diehards to away games in Washington DC and Toronto, and getting every players’ autograph while accompanying them on a flight to San Francisco.
A new effort is underway to bring back the Cosmos, which closed shop in the mid-1980s along with the North American Soccer League after declines in attendance and financial losses. Four British men have set up an office in New York and declared their intention to make a new Cosmos the 20th team in Major League Soccer sometime during the next few years.
A new Cosmos team in the MLS faces a number of big hurdles. The new owners have no stadium. Their financial resources are unknown. And, if they were to raise the money to build a stadium and join the MLS, how could the team reproduce the magic of the original Cosmos? MLS restrictions on salaries and imported players would prevent the building of a super club.
Another group of Brits probably nailed it five years ago in a book and companion documentary film about the Cosmos, “Once In A Lifetime.” The phenomenon known as the Cosmos many years ago will probably never be witnessed again in the foreseeable future.
Although it’s hard to blame anyone for trying to leverage the Cosmos name for a new New York team, it’s also difficult to envision how this effort could ultimately succeed in attracting thousands of older fans and a generation of new ones to the Cosmos aura of years gone by. Of course, if the MLS is serious about fielding a second New York area club – the league has two Los Angeles area teams, with mixed results – a club carrying the Cosmos name may be as good as any, particularly if it draws outer borough and Long Island fans who may find the Harrison, NJ home of the New York Red Bulls team a bit inconvenient.
I wish the new Cosmos owners well. Seeing players wearing Cosmos uniforms on a field again is sure to make me smile and bring back nice memories. It’s 2011 not 1981, however, and the New York Red Bulls (and its previous incarnation as the MetroStars) are now my favorite pro soccer team. I’m still rooting for the Red Bulls to win their first championship, Cosmos or no Cosmos, and generate some new memories with Thierry Henry and Rafael Marquez on the field.
The accompanying photo was taken before a May 1984 benefit game between current and former Cosmos. How many players besides Pele (with mustache) can you identify?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Will Super Bowl upstage Beyond Thunderdome?
To a group of long-time New York Jets fans who enjoy a good party as much as a good football game, their team’s ascent to a second straight AFC Championship game this Sunday poses a potential dilemna: Will this year’s Super Bowl capture their attention more than the announcement of the annual Beyond Thunderdome Award winner?
Huh? The Beyond Thunderdome Award? Let me explain.
The Beyond Thunderdome Award (the mounted lightning bolt and crushed Budweiser can by the Jets Shop pictured on the right) was created shortly after the 1985 movie of the same name by Danny to commemorate the craziest of the wild antics he and Werner, Roy, Bobby and Mike – longtime friends and Jets season ticketholders since 1977 -- indulged in on autumn Sundays.
Every Super Bowl Sunday at Roy and his wife RoseAnn’s annual party, the Beyond Thunderdome Award recipient is announced. The winner proudly accepts the award, thanking everyone for recognizing the zany act that earned them the award from the gang of five, and promises to prominently display the trophy to family and friends during the next 12 months.
My wife Noreen and I earned the award last year for, uh, drowning a bit too much in our sorrow that Giants Stadium would be soon giving way to the monstrosity now known as the New Meadowlands Stadium (yeah, that’s right) in the parking lot before a game. As the first winners outside of the original circle of friends, we proudly displayed the Beyond Thunderdome Award inside our house and at our vacation home. I even carried it to work in New York City one day for a photo session, an act that touched Danny deeply.
What recent recipients like Noreen and I did to earn the award, however, pale in comparison to the acts of those who inspired the award and were the among the first to hoist it proudly. Danny scavenged other tailgaters’ leftover snacks and firewood after kickoff on a cold Sunday to win it one year. Werner, perhaps dreaming of fulfilling his wish to be the lights on a fire engine, fell asleep during a game while his friends tossed food into his wide-open mouth, to win it another year. Roy gave a cranky and overwhelmed parking lot attendant too many pieces of his mind to win it a few years later. Bobby dreamed of his friend Roy while having fun at a park (don’t ask) to win it once.
The Shea Stadium years, which started with all five friends under 30 and single, were the wildest. According to stories, Mike would’ve won the award more than once if it had been conceived by then. Those Jets lost more games than they won, habitually disappointing fans whose memory of the 1969 Super Bowl was still relatively fresh, and Shea Stadium seemed to quickly deteriorate. But, there was still fun to be had. Sometimes, too much. But, the gang of five all survived to tell about it…and create the Beyond Thunderdome Award a few years after the team moved to the Meadowlands.
I got my season tickets in 1996 from an acquaintance of Roy and often joined him and his friends for pre-game festivities in the parking lot. A few years later, the group expanded to include Roy’s nephew Ryan, whose young son almost won the award for appearing to imitate the grownups’ behavior in the back of a pickup truck (again, don’t ask).
Who will win it this year? As the old gang gets, well, older, it’s not always easy to predict. RoseAnn won it a few years ago, when the men were particularly tame, for being such a great Super Bowl party hostess. No doubt, she will be a great hostess again. When the Jets win in Pittsburgh this Sunday and advance to their second Super Bowl in 42 years, the big question will be: Is the Beyond Thunderdome Award in danger of being upstaged by the Super Bowl?
---
Upper left photo, Beyond Thunderdome Award winners Bobby, Danny, Noreen, Charley, Werner, Roy, RoseAnn
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Millions of people, many beautiful
According to the figures announced by the U.S. Census Bureau last week, there are 308,745,538 people living in the United States. When more details are announced next year, it’s expected that New York City’s population will total almost 8,400,000, a 4-5 percent increase over the 2000 census figure. It may surprise you that New York has almost as many people as the combined populations of the country’s second, third and fourth largest cities: Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston.
If beauty can be defined as the unique rendering of color and shape, with motion that is accomplished and effortless, then I’m convinced New York City also has, by far, the highest number of beautiful people in the country, if not the world.
According to a December 14 New York Times article by Sam Roberts, “Since 2000, decades of white flight eased and the proportion of non-Hispanic white New Yorkers increased slightly, to 35.5 percent. So did New York City’s proportion of Hispanic residents, to just over 27 percent. The proportion of blacks declined by a percentage point, to 23.3 percent, and the share of Asian residents rose by almost two percentage points, to nearly 12 percent.”
That’s diversity, by any definition. And, when you walk around New York and see people small and big, young and old, dressed in all kinds of manner, it’s a beautiful sight.
I’ve been fortunate the last two years to work in midtown Manhattan with a great group of people. I’ve also become familiar with some of the wonderful people who work in various local eateries, and gotten to know some of the beautiful faces that cross my path as I walk around Rockefeller Center, including those of Abudacar and Adrian.
On most days, Abudacar can be found on the east side of Fifth Avenue, between 48-49 Street, wearing a sandwich-board advertisement and handing out leaflets for a discount men’s clothier. With a French-African accent, he told me recently that he arrived from Guinea eight years ago and lives in the Bronx. He said has no family in the U.S.
“I have an understanding with my boss about my pay,” he replied when asked if he is paid by the hour or by the volume of leaflets he distributes. “It works for both of us.”
When it’s not too cold, Abudacar looks distinguished in a fedora hat and sports jacket. He looks pleasantly at passersby with eyes that are probably somewhere between 60-70 years old. Occasionally, he chats with people who seem to know him.
On an eastern corner of Sixth Avenue and 48 Street, Adrian can often be seen holding a sign and passing out leaflets advertising a nearby Irish bar. Speaking Spanish to me just before Christmas, he told me he came from Mexico three years ago and lives in upper Manhattan. He, too, said he has no family in the U.S.
Short with a perfect complexion and Indian features, Adrian said he was 26 years old and works a couple of jobs. Asked if he had any special wish for Christmas, he paused, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders slowly, looked up at me and replied with a smile, “no.”
He also said that, although he gets paid by the hour, he was glad to have December 25 off from work. It’s a busy time of the year for him, he explained, and he’ll rest on Christmas Day.
There are many beautiful New Yorkers like Abudacar and Adrian -- probably over eight million of them.
If beauty can be defined as the unique rendering of color and shape, with motion that is accomplished and effortless, then I’m convinced New York City also has, by far, the highest number of beautiful people in the country, if not the world.
According to a December 14 New York Times article by Sam Roberts, “Since 2000, decades of white flight eased and the proportion of non-Hispanic white New Yorkers increased slightly, to 35.5 percent. So did New York City’s proportion of Hispanic residents, to just over 27 percent. The proportion of blacks declined by a percentage point, to 23.3 percent, and the share of Asian residents rose by almost two percentage points, to nearly 12 percent.”
That’s diversity, by any definition. And, when you walk around New York and see people small and big, young and old, dressed in all kinds of manner, it’s a beautiful sight.
I’ve been fortunate the last two years to work in midtown Manhattan with a great group of people. I’ve also become familiar with some of the wonderful people who work in various local eateries, and gotten to know some of the beautiful faces that cross my path as I walk around Rockefeller Center, including those of Abudacar and Adrian.
On most days, Abudacar can be found on the east side of Fifth Avenue, between 48-49 Street, wearing a sandwich-board advertisement and handing out leaflets for a discount men’s clothier. With a French-African accent, he told me recently that he arrived from Guinea eight years ago and lives in the Bronx. He said has no family in the U.S.
“I have an understanding with my boss about my pay,” he replied when asked if he is paid by the hour or by the volume of leaflets he distributes. “It works for both of us.”
When it’s not too cold, Abudacar looks distinguished in a fedora hat and sports jacket. He looks pleasantly at passersby with eyes that are probably somewhere between 60-70 years old. Occasionally, he chats with people who seem to know him.
On an eastern corner of Sixth Avenue and 48 Street, Adrian can often be seen holding a sign and passing out leaflets advertising a nearby Irish bar. Speaking Spanish to me just before Christmas, he told me he came from Mexico three years ago and lives in upper Manhattan. He, too, said he has no family in the U.S.
Short with a perfect complexion and Indian features, Adrian said he was 26 years old and works a couple of jobs. Asked if he had any special wish for Christmas, he paused, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders slowly, looked up at me and replied with a smile, “no.”
He also said that, although he gets paid by the hour, he was glad to have December 25 off from work. It’s a busy time of the year for him, he explained, and he’ll rest on Christmas Day.
There are many beautiful New Yorkers like Abudacar and Adrian -- probably over eight million of them.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
What do some guys talk about while tailgating?
Most men are not very articulate when it comes to sharing details about a spouse’s health issue or expressing their affection for their partner. But, at the Meadowlands parking lot before last Sunday’s New York Jets football game, a friend of mine couldn’t be any clearer about his wife’s breast cancer or his love for her.
He went into detail about how her cancer was discovered and the surgery that followed. He explained the decision to undergo daily radiation therapy and forego chemotherapy. With some pride, he also pointed out the detailed log she kept of her ordeal and how impressed her doctor was for information that enabled them to chart the best course forward. He also described her subsequent feelings of fatigue and discomfort and insecurity.
“She was crying almost every day,” he told me. “There is no history of this in her family. Her doctor explained that it was probably nothing genetic, and it was not likely to have been caused by anything she did. It could’ve been caused by anything. We’ll never know.
“Sometimes she wonders, ‘why me?’” But, why not? It’s not something that happens just to other people. It could happen to anybody.”
He paused, puffed on his cigarette, and reflected on their lives together.
“We’ve been together for 33 years. This week is our 30th anniversary. When she gets really down, and wonders about my feelings, I tell her, ‘you’re the only woman for me until the day I die.’”
Although he is a Jets season ticketholder, this was the only game he planned to attend this year. He wanted to be with his friends and check out the New Meadowlands Stadium, but his mind and heart are with his wife only. By the time I returned home after the game, so were mine.
He went into detail about how her cancer was discovered and the surgery that followed. He explained the decision to undergo daily radiation therapy and forego chemotherapy. With some pride, he also pointed out the detailed log she kept of her ordeal and how impressed her doctor was for information that enabled them to chart the best course forward. He also described her subsequent feelings of fatigue and discomfort and insecurity.
“She was crying almost every day,” he told me. “There is no history of this in her family. Her doctor explained that it was probably nothing genetic, and it was not likely to have been caused by anything she did. It could’ve been caused by anything. We’ll never know.
“Sometimes she wonders, ‘why me?’” But, why not? It’s not something that happens just to other people. It could happen to anybody.”
He paused, puffed on his cigarette, and reflected on their lives together.
“We’ve been together for 33 years. This week is our 30th anniversary. When she gets really down, and wonders about my feelings, I tell her, ‘you’re the only woman for me until the day I die.’”
Although he is a Jets season ticketholder, this was the only game he planned to attend this year. He wanted to be with his friends and check out the New Meadowlands Stadium, but his mind and heart are with his wife only. By the time I returned home after the game, so were mine.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Bob Dylan, again
Last Sunday night at Monmouth University’s MAC center, I enjoyed seeing Bob Dylan in concert with my wife Noreen, sons Steven and Kevin, and friend Dave. It was the 15th time since 1975 I attended a Dylan concert – each of them in a different venue. If you’ve seen Dylan or any other performer 15 times, I’d like to hear about it, particularly if the shows were spread over many venues across a long period of time.
You never forget your first time, and for me it was on November 24, 1975, at the Hartford Coliseum. I drove three college classmates a few hours in a 1970 Thunderbird with worn tires to see Dylan perform with the Rolling Thunder Revue. My friend Patrice and I co-wrote an article about the evening that was published in the local Bloomfield, NJ weekly newspaper.
Three years later - three years before we were married - I drove with Noreen to Nassau Coliseum to see Dylan. From good seats on the side of the stage, she was quite taken by how he rocked. She earned a badge of honor 17 years later, though, when she stood on the hard floor of The Electric Factory for hours with me to see Dylan. I’ll never forget when Patti Smith, the opening act, joined Dylan on stage for a song and punctuated the performance with a kiss on his cheek.
I’ll also never forget the concert in Camden’s E-Center on July 28, 2000, the first time my two sons joined my wife and me at a Dylan show. My mind still retains the image of how excited my 9-year-old son Kevin was to see Dylan perform “Like a Rolling Stone.”
Five years later, I stood on a baseball outfield at Yogi Berra Stadium in Montclair, NJ through a couple of opening acts with my oldest son Steven, who just finished his freshman year at college, and Dave and his daughter just to be a few feet from where Dylan stood on the stage.
Following is my full setlist of Dylan concerts:
1975: Hartford Coliseum
1978: Nassau Coliseum
1981: Meadowlands Arena
1986: Madison Square Garden
1989: Waterloo Village
1995: The Electric Factory
1997: Garden State Arts Center
2000: E-Center
2003: Hilton Casino
2004: Tower Theater
2005: Beacon Theater
2005: Yogi Berra Stadium
2006: The Spectrum
2009: Blue Claws Stadium
2010: Monmouth University
You can never be too sure what you’ll see at a Dylan concert even though set lists are promptly posted on bobdylan.com, but fans attending the shows at New York City’s Terminal 5 next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the Borgata Hotel Casino in Atlantic City next Friday can expect to see the 69-year-old Dylan play guitar and harmonica more than he has in many years. Uncharacteristically, he may stand in the front of the stage holding a microphone and croon through a few songs. The songs from the past 15 years will sound fine, and 1960s classics like “Ballad of a Thin Man” will pack as much punch as ever. Oh, and Bob probably won’t take off his hat during the show, no matter how loud the applause.
You never forget your first time, and for me it was on November 24, 1975, at the Hartford Coliseum. I drove three college classmates a few hours in a 1970 Thunderbird with worn tires to see Dylan perform with the Rolling Thunder Revue. My friend Patrice and I co-wrote an article about the evening that was published in the local Bloomfield, NJ weekly newspaper.
Three years later - three years before we were married - I drove with Noreen to Nassau Coliseum to see Dylan. From good seats on the side of the stage, she was quite taken by how he rocked. She earned a badge of honor 17 years later, though, when she stood on the hard floor of The Electric Factory for hours with me to see Dylan. I’ll never forget when Patti Smith, the opening act, joined Dylan on stage for a song and punctuated the performance with a kiss on his cheek.
I’ll also never forget the concert in Camden’s E-Center on July 28, 2000, the first time my two sons joined my wife and me at a Dylan show. My mind still retains the image of how excited my 9-year-old son Kevin was to see Dylan perform “Like a Rolling Stone.”
Five years later, I stood on a baseball outfield at Yogi Berra Stadium in Montclair, NJ through a couple of opening acts with my oldest son Steven, who just finished his freshman year at college, and Dave and his daughter just to be a few feet from where Dylan stood on the stage.
Following is my full setlist of Dylan concerts:
1975: Hartford Coliseum
1978: Nassau Coliseum
1981: Meadowlands Arena
1986: Madison Square Garden
1989: Waterloo Village
1995: The Electric Factory
1997: Garden State Arts Center
2000: E-Center
2003: Hilton Casino
2004: Tower Theater
2005: Beacon Theater
2005: Yogi Berra Stadium
2006: The Spectrum
2009: Blue Claws Stadium
2010: Monmouth University
You can never be too sure what you’ll see at a Dylan concert even though set lists are promptly posted on bobdylan.com, but fans attending the shows at New York City’s Terminal 5 next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the Borgata Hotel Casino in Atlantic City next Friday can expect to see the 69-year-old Dylan play guitar and harmonica more than he has in many years. Uncharacteristically, he may stand in the front of the stage holding a microphone and croon through a few songs. The songs from the past 15 years will sound fine, and 1960s classics like “Ballad of a Thin Man” will pack as much punch as ever. Oh, and Bob probably won’t take off his hat during the show, no matter how loud the applause.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
She cried, privately in public
Penn Station. Thursday, November 4, 6:30 PM. Starbucks. I sit down, waiting for my latte. The distinct opening notes of Nilsson’s “Everybody’s Talkin’” play, but they’re immediately pierced by the sound of someone very near by starting to cry. I look up and see a young woman across the table from me, head down, muffin half-eaten, sobbing by her cup of coffee.
I look away, waiting for my coffee to finally be ready. Privately, in a very public place, she continues to cry. Then she seems to stop, momentarily. After getting my latte, I sit back down, and she begins to cry again. She doesn’t seem much older than my own children, and I begin to wonder. Did someone close to her die? Did her boyfriend break up with her? Did she lose her job?
I lean over and ask her, “Are you going to be okay?” She looks up, nods, and says, “I’m fine.” As I get up to leave, she looks at me and smiles faintly. I return the half-smile, and walk out to catch a train to Newark, where I will meet my son and go with him to a soccer game. Presumably, she collected herself shortly afterwards and moved on. Destination unknown, but hopefully a happier place.
I look away, waiting for my coffee to finally be ready. Privately, in a very public place, she continues to cry. Then she seems to stop, momentarily. After getting my latte, I sit back down, and she begins to cry again. She doesn’t seem much older than my own children, and I begin to wonder. Did someone close to her die? Did her boyfriend break up with her? Did she lose her job?
I lean over and ask her, “Are you going to be okay?” She looks up, nods, and says, “I’m fine.” As I get up to leave, she looks at me and smiles faintly. I return the half-smile, and walk out to catch a train to Newark, where I will meet my son and go with him to a soccer game. Presumably, she collected herself shortly afterwards and moved on. Destination unknown, but hopefully a happier place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
