Chaos Theory: Five Managers, One World

*** WARNING. These stories may contain adult language and situations. ***

This is the first post in a grand experiment. Essentially, I want to write about a long-term game that I’ve started, but I want to do so by following five different managers as they move through the football world. There is a blog, which will always have more information than anyone else could ever want to read, about the five managers and about other clubs, other players, other bits of that reality. And, there is a thread in the Careers forum which will have monthly updates, the sort of drier who beat who and what I’m hoping for tactically at a glance type thing (http://community.sigames.com/showthread.php/212972-Makonnen-s-World).

But the soul of the game is the stories, the narratives. I don’t know what will emerge, but I’m pretty sure quite a few things will, and I hope that some of you find it interesting and at least mildly entertaining. I have enough material to post something every day or so for a while until we catch up to where I have played, so I’ll start with that. It may feel pretty disjointed at first—there are five different storylines to track, each with its own cast of characters—but I think that, over time, some sense of rhythm and continuity will emerge. At least, I hope so.

Thanks to tenthreeleader for being supportive and willing to let me try something a little different here. And thanks to anyone that decides to hop aboard. We’ll begin with a brief sketch of the five managers, including an overview of the leagues they find themselves in, and then we’re off. We join the universe in June of 2009—it’s a bit like jumping into a story on page 30, since the seasons for 2 managers are well underway, while 2 are in their preseason and the last is busy with cups, but months away from the start of their league play.

The cast, in no particular order:

Tadesse Makonnen is the new manager at Saint George in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Easily the greatest club in Ethiopian football, St. George—or V as they are known—is the dominant force in the history of the Ethiopian Premiere League. The EPR combines with the Ethiopian National League to form a two-tier national football system for the East African country. Teams are largely historical. Stadia have been added, as has an assumption of financial continuity. As a reference, most players in the EPR make under $10 a week. St. George’s focus is always on continuing their dominance of the EPR while excelling in the various and sundry cups that have been created as part of their competition.

Levi McKinnon is the first manager in the history of the newly formed Houston Comets. The Comets occupy the lowest of the four rungs of North & Central American Soccer, known as NADII (North American Division II). NADII and NADI are full of teams created for the game, as well historically accurate teams from the Caribbean and Central America. The North American Champions League and the top tier, the North American Select League, are dominated by Mexican and MSL clubs. There is a convoluted promotion/relegation system and literally dozens of special cups ranging from regional championships to multinational invitationals. The Comets are a good NADII team, with a reasonable budget and facilities. McKinnon is joined in NADII by David Barron, hired to help one of two Haitian clubs in NADII, Racing Club Haitien, in their first season in the league. Barron is new to Haiti, and faces a daunting task with virtually no budget and a team of almost exclusively raw 16 to 18 year olds.

Danyil Oranje is the new boss at Stamford Bridge for Chelsea. The ex-Dutch international was a surprise hire for the men in blue, and clearly expectations are high. There have been no changes to the English Leagues in the game.

Finally, Dublin-born Terry Langford was recently introduced as the new boss at Ajax Cape Town in the South African Premiere League (SAPL). Langford has bounced around a bit in his career, largely because of his obsession with a tactical holy grail of the perfect attacking side. Whether he survives long enough in Cape Town to succeed—or to even attend a World Cup game in 2010—remains to be seen.

Press Conference, Addis Ababa Hilton, March 15th, 2009.

In a crowded room at the Addis Ababa Hilton, St. George’s new manager, Tadesse Makonnen, met the press for the first time. Makonnen seemed confident, answering questions in both English and Amharic from the crowd of journalists and supporters for about 40 minutes. It seems that Makonnen is likely to continue the upheaval at the club: since joining, there has been a near complete backroom turnover, with highly regarded Abinet Nassir joining Ababi Ibrahim, Atakilti Mebratu, and goalkeeping specialist Meuar Kosrof as coaches. The turnover in players, however, will have to wait as the EPR transfer window closes later tonight.

Kosrof is seen as key by Makonnen, as he anticipates great things from the two 16 year old keepers, Mesfin Negash and Zerihun Taddele. Given his stated preference for a 4-1-2-1-2 formation, young Kefo Mengesha figures to play a role in V’s future as well. But the surprise of the day may have been the revelation that Atakilti Mengesha and Mohammed Abera, both at the tender age of 15, will be moving into the starting 11 for the club up front, joining with 18 year old Bereket Addisu in attack. Last year’s starter, Andualem Negussie, has already been loaned out to Awassa for the rest of the season.

If the club can continue their success with such a young attacking line is yet to be seen, as is the reaction of established starter, Said Saladin.

Perhaps the shocker of the day, though, was Makonnen’s announcement that he had thrown his hat into the ring for the position of head coach for Ethiopia’s Under-19 team. No word yet from the national federation on whether he will add that to his responsibilities at St. George.

Makonnen, let me 'officially' welcome you to FMS. I'm looking forward to seeing where you take this story -- having read ahead a bit through your courtesy, I am sure our community will enjoy it.

A note for the group here: Makonnen, as mentioned earlier, is actually cross-posting this story here and in the Careers Forum. I don't know if anyone has ever tried this before: now we will see if the concept works.

Best wishes to you and don't hesitate to call on me if I can be of service.

I'll echo what 10-3 said. This looks very promising. Good luck going forward

@ttl,SCIAG: Thanks for the warm welcome, and the indulgence!

Chelsea Rumors: March 15, 2009

Danyil Oranje is evidently wasting no time shaking things up at Stamford Bridge. There is a rumor–substantiated by highly reliable sources–that the Blue have made a bid for Tottenham’s Gareth Bale.

What is uncertain, of course, is if Bale would be willing to leave the comfort of Hotspur for the greater glare of Chelsea.

Update: Sources are confirming that, evidently, he would not. Chelsea was willing to open op the pocketbook to the tune of over 40 million pounds, but Bale refused to join the cross-town rivals.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary, 31 March, 2009.

Well, that was nice. Michigan was outclassed, but still, after two drubbings, it was good to get a win.

They’re coming together. Leiweke and De Carlo still are skeptical, and I really don’t care about Leiweke. But Gianmarco could be a contributer at the back if he decides to buy in. But the important stuff today was up front: Ramage and Miller were combining nicely after we switched their roles this week. Mark my words, Lance Miller could be something special in this league.

Contract talks with Michael Nsien seem to be progressing. If he signs, that solves the left back position for us, too. Slowly, this team is coming together. We don’t have much money, so we need to be careful, but the Dynamo sending us Danny Cruz for the season should pay big dividends. Perhaps we can grab another striker on loan from somewhere.

Now, some scotch: a victory is a victory is a victory.

RASS Early Days, LiveBlogging

The Red & Arabian Sea States Cup is a major source of income and reputation for East African and Middle Eastern Sides. Ethiopia is looking to make noise here, and the standard bearers will be, as always, mighty St. George. Experts, however, believe this St. George team is simply outclassed when compared to the Arab sides.

Today, V take on Al-Karama from Syria, with highly touted newcomers Lencho Skibba and Fitsum Kebede both set to make their debuts.

5:09. St. George on the counter. A lovely pass from Assani Bajope frees up Skibba in front of goal. And, it’s in! It’s in! He’s done it on his debut! 1-0 St. George.

10:00. St. George continue to put together long strings of passes, but have no more to show for it, and Al-Karama looks deadly on the counter and on their free kick opportunities.

20:00. Yazid Kaïssi and Mohammed Ashouri continue to look dangerous in the middle of the field. It is doubtful St. George can preserve the shutout at this rate.

30:00. Mohammed Abera has been deadly on the left, his pace quickly outstripping the Syrian defenders.

32.50. Kaïssi tries an audacious free kick from 30 yards out and clatters it against the goalposts. Adugna Deyas was well beaten, and could only watch helplessly as the ball rebounded. Al-Karama earned a corner kick from the melee. St. George pounced on a deflection and took off down the pitch, with Atakilti Mengesha again exposing the lack of pace on the Syrian left flank. A low cross was met by Skibba’s head, and he was unlucky not to add his second score of the game.

42:00. Al-Karama are piling on the pressure, but despite a barrage of corners, St. George have survived.

Al-Karama are dominating the match statistically, with an 8-2 edge in shots and over 60% possession. St. George will have to make some headway there if they want to preserve the victory. Mulalem Regassa picked up a knock in the first half, we’ll see if he comes out for the second. Tactically, it is just a matter of time for him: Gorge Owino was the preferred starter in any case, but is still returning to match fitness after injury. I would look for Owino to enter the game soon, and drop back to a true defensive midfielder, returning St. George to their preferred diamond formation.

45:00. Regassa comes out for the start of the second half.

55:10. More danger for V. Wael Al-Salman shot an in-swinging corner kick towards goal that froze the St. George defense and was met on the rise by the head of Ahmad Haghigi. But, the ball clattered the woodwork, and an alert Fitsum Kebede clears out of the box. However, the ball comes right back, and Deyas is caught horribly off his line, having to scramble to maintain any order. Again, though, they survive.

61:04. Regassa hobbles off, and as expected it is Owino on for him. St. George may have further substitution issues: Skibba and Kebede are both grabbing their shorts, and young right-back Liban Elmi looks tired as well.

76:22. Kebede and Skibba both come off, to be replaaced by Solomon Opoku and Bereded Gawo. I’m not sure what Makonnen is going for here, but it looks like they may pull Bajope into the middle, with Gawo playing a deep right midfielder.

77:00. Yes, that’s it, and Mengesha has pulled back, leaving Opoku all alone up front.

79:00. AGAIN, Al-Karama hits the posts, this time on a wonderful lob from Samer Dabi to the head of Mohammed Al-Roulli.

90:00. We’re into extra time now. The 4th official indicates three minutes of it. One last push by the Syrians. AND THERE’S THE WHISTLE!!!

St. George does it, against all odds.

A man of the match performance by Mohammed Abera, who was deadly and dangerous all day, a wonderful effort on defense by Wodemange Mengestu and Skibba’s goal on his debut, combined with a friendly bit of woodwork, and Makonnen must feel on top of the world, victorious in his first RASS clash. Still, the optimism must be tempered: the victory ties St. George with Dhofar and Al-Karama at 3 points each, trailing Group E leader Al-Ittihad of Saudi Arabia.

In a final note, right back Liban Elmi set a record for St. George as the youngest player in a sanctioned competition at an age just shy of 15 ½ years.

A potentially excellent idea and a very interesting start! Will be following

From David Barron's Diary, April 2nd, 2009.

What am I doing here? We have no money, no training grounds, and little talent.

We do have this kid, Ishmael Butler. His buddies on the team call him Butterfly, but I dunno, that seems like a weird name for a soccer player. But he’s good. Fast attacker, great acceleration, a ton of potential. Best thing I can do for him is to play him as much as I can, and help him get someplace with a real gym and even a practice field. If I can do that, maybe he’ll remember me when he makes the big time.

And our first game tomorrow is against–get this–San Juan Jabloteh. SAN JUAN JABLOTEH? Seriously, though, this will be a hard game for us. They have a kid Namond Brice who I’ve heard great things about, but he’s injured, which helps. They also have a scout I’d love to get a hold of. Iranian guy, huge beard, the whole thing, named ibn Fadlan. He’s been everywhere, has a good eye for talent. Which means he doesn’t think much of us.

It’s not that bad. I do like the kid we just picked up. Kid! He's what, 23? That makes him the wizened leader of this crew. Hard nosed defensive midfielder named Edens Chery. He’ll do OK. I gotta’ get to sleep–our cup game is tomorrow, and I gotta’ figure out how to get these 17 year olds to play together for 90 minutes.

@ScottT!, thanks, and lmk what you think.

From David Barron's Diary, April 9, 2009.

A lovely morning. Gentle breeze, and a bright sun. The pitch is in good shape, and the boys have even shown up early today. They’re excited. They have reason to–we are, for perhaps the only time all year, favorites for a match. We face Villa Clara from Cuba in group play for the Islands Championship today. We have to win this–the three points would put us in position to make some noise over the next few months.

Villa Clara looks like we do–underage, underskilled, underfunded. But they have a couple of kids that just look different on the ball. We’re going to see if we can poach them.

My real concern is fitness. The boys are just exhausted, and it will take everything we have for them to make it through the game. Need to remember to give them a few days off, win or lose.

***

Well, that was a mess. We were slow, and lost concentration often. Ten minutes from time, they got a screamer from the edge of the box, and we lose 1-0. Disappointing.

How am I going to get traction here? I need to find a way to get some talent down here on the dusty fields … it may be time to hire that third scout.

Embarrassed in Haiti: From David Barron's Diary, 15 April, 2009

Ouch.

There’s this local club down the way. Amateurs and semi-pro’s, the lot of ‘em. Mechanics. Cooks. Bus drivers. We arranged a friendly with them for today. And they tore us apart. They were more disciplined, better on the ball, and better finishing.

Need a drink. Copious amounts of it. Crap.

I bet Santos calls me in tomorrow. This could be the fastest return to New Zealand on record.

And I was thinking of applying for the Trinidad & Tobago job if it came open. Christ … the only team that should hire me would be a grammar school side looking for a waterboy.

Where’s that drink.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary, April 27, 2009

Money. It always comes down to money. We’ve brought some great guys in on trial, and we can’t afford any of them, so I shake their hands and wish them well, both of us knowing they would start every game and add significantly to the team, if only we could pay them.

We need to resolve the contract situation with Derek Guadet, though. He’s affordable, and he’s building up some rapport with Lance Miller–who is going to be a star somewhere, someday–and Matthew Ramage. I can’t believe my front line will all be under 21. Hell, Miller is just 15. I have socks older than he is. Still, since the other strikers we’ve looked at want more than we can afford–and that Lopez kid from Chivas USA turns us down for a loan, then says yes to the frigging Soccer Seals from San Diego? Bastard.

There have been moments, though: Guadet laying sweet through-balls that Miller has pounced on. Lance has 5 goals in 8 games. Friendlies, sure, but that’s a nice rate of return.

Cups start soon: our next two matches are against Veracruz and DC United. Ouch. It gets better after that, though. Only a month until league play starts. One month to figure out the rest of the team. The back line feels pretty set right now … but I would really love to find an experienced holding midfielder. Sam Jones and Ryan O’Neill will be good players someday, right now, they’re just kids, and they look lost far too often.

RASS Roundup

First, the locals.

St. George was drubbed in back to back matches against Al-Ittihad, who are 5-0 in their Group E clashes, and have already qualified for the next round. However, a wonderful breakaway capped by a header by Mohammed Abera for his first goal for V was the difference as St. George again beat Al-Karama (and, at four months shy of his 16th birthday, Abera becomes the youngest goalscorer in RASS history). That leaves St. George tied with the Syrians for second in the group with 6 points. St. George will face cellar dwelling Dhofar from Oman while Al-Karama have to take on the might Saudi’s in their final match game.

Which means that V have a good shot at progressing to the next round! They are the only Ethiopian team with a shot, so the burden of an entire nation’s expectations rest on their shoulders for the match on the 19th of May. St. George will go into the game knowing what they need, as Al-Karama will have played on the 16th.

In addition to Al-Ittihad, already through to the next round are Al-Wahda, Estenghlal, Al-Ain, Bargh, Al-Ahli, Ismaily, Al-Sadd, Al-Kuwait, Al-Gharrafa, Wehdat, Al-Hilal, Persopolis, Al-Ansar, Haras El-Houdoud, Al-Talaba, Zob-Ahan, Al-Ittihad (from Syria), Al-Ahly, Damash Gilan, Sepahan, and Al-Sha’ab.

GCCC 2009 Kicks Off

April 29, 2009

The Gulf Coast Club Championship kicks off today with one game from each of the three groups: Estudiantes de Altamira are heavily favored over Cienfuegos in Group A, Atlante looks to dispatch the Football Crewe of New Orleans in Group B, and Levi McKinnon’s Houston Comets face Veracruz in Group C’s opening match.

Notes from the Comets game follow:

• The ageless one, Cuautémoc Blanco, puts Veracruz ahead in the first minute, and it looks like the Comets are behind the 8 ball again.
  
• But they are holding possession well, and in the fifth minute, Matt Richardson makes a lovely run down the right touchline, launches a deep cross, and there is the kid! Lance Miller rises, meets it squarely, and heads it into the near corner of the net. 1-1, after only five minutes.
  
• In the 21st minute, Ariel González takes on the entire Houston defense in the box, and cuts through them cleanly before burying the ball in the back of the net. 2-1 Veracruz.
  
• And that is how it ends. McKinnon can be proud of his side, but in the end it wasn’t enough to overcome the superior class of the Mexican side.
  

The other games went according to form as well: Atlante overcame FC NOLA 4-1, and Altamira beat Cienfuegos 1-0.

That's More Like It

From the 6 May 2009 edition of Comet Tails, Darren Schmid’s fanzine.

We were pretty beat up heading into this match, and with the Guadet situation still unresolved, we were all wondering what McKinnon would do and how it would work.

Shouldn’t have worried. After games against far better sides–The Dynamo, DC United, even Veracruz–and far worse (Dynamo Academy spring to mind), we finally picked on someone our own size in Mission FC from San Antonio in a Group A meeting of The Desert Cup. We fielded an odd looking team, with Danny Cruz and Matthew Ramage up front, and David Leiweke, who may finally be buying into this team getting a start on the left side.

Ramage scored on a nice individual move 3 minutes in, but the key was the continued solid play of Michael Nsien, who is proving to be a quite useful pickup at the back. He brought a corner kick under control, wheeled, and drilled it past the Missions keeper for a 2-0 lead. All that was left was for Cruz to pick up his first goal as a Comet, and we were through.

Gianmarco De Carlo picked up the man of the match award for his work at the back, although Nsien was equally deserving.

If this is a sign of things to come in divisional play, we may only be in NADII for a single year before moving up to Division I.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary, May 9, 2009.

Just got off the phone with Chairman Wigley. Guadet signed with the Galaxy. We had him, here, in camp, happy. And we let him go. And once he went, we can’t compete with Arenas and Los Angeles. They probably promised him the world out there. Thing is, the kid’s good … for a NADII team, even a league up, he could play for a lot of the NADI teams out there. But the top of the heap? No way. He isn’t NASL material, not in a million years.

But, we had him. And now we don't. What are we going to do? We don’t have an attacking forward to hold the ball and get Lance and Ramage involved. That falls to Jesse Sanchez now, but it’s pretty thin behind him.

We signed another kid today, though. Cy Tolliver. Looks like a decent defensive midfielder, and at least gives us another option there behind Sam and Ryan. Maybe in front of them--Tolliver has an attitude about him that I like, a hard-nosed will that he seems more than happy to impose. Still, none of them can even shave yet. We need another player. Preferably someone who can help carry the offensive load.

Very good so far Makonnen, will be adding this to the list of stories to keep up with

Looking forward to more mate

@Mark Wilson27: Thanks! Hope you enjoy it! I'm excited: by the end of the calendar year in the game, distinct voices and storylines--both on and off the field--have emerged for three of the managers. It's coming together, I think.

From David Barron's Diary, May 13, 2009

This was a good day.

At the end of the first half against Portmore (Islands Cup Clash)–actually at the end of stoppage time at the end of the first half–we bang a corner in and it bounces off the defender’s head. It falls at the far post to the keeper, but he muffs it, and Diego Calatayud just sort of walks it into the net.

We hold on. I had them playing five at the back at the end, with Edens running interference in front, and Butler as a lone striker. It was touch and go, but we held. Calatayud and Demmins were magnificent all game, and, finally, a win. We’re still last in the group, but we won’t go without a victory at least.

And then, after the game, someone from the Board comes by and says they found some more income. I have no idea what that means–how do you find income? How do you find more income? But, I’ll take it. Maybe we can pry loose some of this young talent now, and get something going. Maybe.

RASS Cup Live Blogging: It's All On The Line

There is electricity in the air here at Addis Ababa Stadium. A win or a tie against visiting Dhofar from Oman, and St. George are through to the next round of the RASS. Dhofar comes in as the slight favorite, depending heavily on their Gabonese holding midfielder, Cédric Moubamba, but V are primed for the match, and well understand what is at stake in terms of finances and reputation.

With the return of striker Bereket Addisu from injury, St. George will, for the first time, field a fully healthy lineup. We will finally see how Addisu works with the two attacking newcomers, Lencho Skibba and Fitsum Kebede.

The first half starts very slowly, with both teams feeling each other out.

23:00. Makonnen is gesticulating madly on the sidelines. He seems to be changing his tactics slightly, trying to pull Dhofar in for a counter attack. So far, no clear cut chances for either team.

38:52. Ibrahim Massoud has the ball at the top of the box, surrounded by three defenders. But he jukes, pulls the ball back, and suddenly has a clear shot at goal. Ethiopian national goalkeeper Adugna Deyas is frozen, and can only watch helplessly as the ball … caroms off the post, and is cleared. St. George needs to be careful–one mistake, and their hopes of advancing will be dashed.

40:10. St. George has a corner, and defender Samson Mulugeta is up in the box. He corrals a rebound, and turns to shoot, but Ahmed Aseeri takes him down from the side. And referee Umeta Ibrahim has called the penalty! It’s a good call, and St. George looks to take the early lead. Aseeri is protesting vehemently, but he clearly went in with his studs against the big defender.

40:41. 15 year old Mohammed Abera steps up to take the kick. What pressure for the teenager! And he drills it home! Straight into the left hand corner! 1-0 St. George!

And that is what we find at halftime. It’s been a slow game, with few chances for either team. Addisu looks rusty out there, and without his spark up front, the hosts are having a hard time building an attacking threat.

55:53. Abera and Nassar Ghulam have been battling all day, and Ghulam finally gets out of line, earning a yellow card for an elbow into Abera’s side. Ibrahim calms the teams down, but it’s getting physical out there. Dholam’s coach is concerned as well, as he pulls Ghulam off immediately in favor of Bandar Al-Haddaf.

74:09. With his final touch of the match, Addisu sets up Kebede for a marvelous shot, but the Dholam keeper is up to the task. St. George maintains possession, but at the throw-in, Atakilti Mengesha comes in to replace Addisu up front. The crowd applauds Bereket, more for his return to the field than his performance on the day.

82:02. With Dholam surging forward, Makonnen makes another substitution, bringing Mulalem Regassa in for Skibba. Regassa will play deeper, more as a true midfielder, and this may signal a shift to defense for St. George for the final 10 minutes of the game. The crowd is on their feet, cheering the boys on!

85:06. St. George is holding possession now. Promising right back Liban Elmi, who has been quite impressive this Spring, frees Mengesha on a breakaway. He has a clear shot on goal, but Faisal Al-Matrood is again up to the challenge, kicking the ball away with his trailing foot.

But that is the last true action of the game, and St. George is through! They’ve done it! Pandemonium in the stands!

Mohammed Abera–again–earns the man of the match, but you can’t ignore the contribution of the entire back line and Deyas in goal.

The scale of competition will go up from here, but St. George can hold their heads high as they represent Ethiopia in the next round of the RASS.

NADII Opening Day LiveBlog

And, at last, here we are: opening day of the regular season. We’re in San Diego where the Soccer Seals will host the visiting Houston Comets. The Seals opened their season on Monday, drawing 0-0 with San Antonio Mission FC.

San Diego plays with a lone striker up front, in what is best thought of as a 3-6-1/5-4-1 formation (3 center backs, 2 holding midfielders paired with 2 wingbacks, two true midfielders, and Jorge Flores at the top). They should be vulnerable in the attacking third, just from a lack of manpower there. This should increase Cy Tolliver’s role in the game. We’ll see.

30:13. It’s a quiet opening half hour here in San Diego–a few shots, but nothing particularly troubling. San Diego’s Ryan O’Neill has looked strong at the back for the Soccer Seals, but he came into the match fatigued, and his time on the pitch is likely to be limited.

Houston has had the best of it so far, dominating possession and freeing Matt Richardson on a few dangerous runs down the right hand side. But, we go into halftime still scoreless.

50:15. Houston comes out attacking in the second half, and it pays off when Cy Tolliver lofts a lovely pass into the box. Lance Miller pounces on it, and drills it into the corner for a goal. But, no! The flag is up on the far side. Miller is called for offsides, and the goal is taken off the board.

Miller is flagged twice more in the next ten minutes, and while he is clearly frustrated with the sideline judge, he is looking dangerous–one of those runs will connect successfully if he keeps the effort up.

63:51. A long pass from Gary Jones to Jorge Flores starts a SD break. The real mistake here is by Gianmarco De Carlo, who backs off Flores, allowing him to cut into the box, where he was met by Ralph Murphy, who absolutely flattens him. The whistle blows, and the referee points immediately to the spot. Murphy is lucky not to get a card there, but Flores will get the penalty.

64:38. Flores buries it in the left side of the goal, and San Diego leads 1-0. It’s against the run of play, but Murphy has to play smarter than that. San Diego 1 - 0.

67:51. The Comets answer back: Tolliver again shoots a lovely pass through traffic, and this time it is Matt Richardson on the end of it. He’s well onside, and Brown never has a chance in goal. We’re all tied at 1. Houston 1 - 1.

71:12. Costa Rican international Jonathan Bolaños–who was only signed this week by Houston–come son to replace Tolliver. Bolaños is a true midfielder, and will move up to that position. Houston will now have a gap between their defense and midfield, but reports are that Bolaños is a dynamic player, well able to cover both ends of the pitch. I would expect to see David Leiweke soon as well, as Danny Cruz is looking gassed out there. When McKinnon first took over, Leiweke was on the margins, but he seems to be warranting more playing time lately. Still, rumors are that he's too expensive for the Comets to hold on to, especially given their younger--and cheaper--talent.

77:13. As expected, Leiweke comes on for Cruz.

80:43. McKinnon is pulling out all the stops here: with ten minutes left, Victor Ramirez comes on for Matthew Ramage. That’s expected–what isn’t is Ramirez taking up a trequartista role. That’s an attacking play, leaving Ramirez essentially without any defensive duties. We’ll see if it works for a Comets victory, or backfires.

83:48. Three minutes on, and McKinnon looks like a bit of a genius. Michael Nsien takes a throw in far up on the left. Jesse Sánchez heads it back to Nsien who serves it deep into the box, where it is met by Ramirez and SD goalie Jason Brown. Ramirez gets a head on it, but it goes right to Brown, who fumbles the catch only to see the ball end up in the back of the net. Ramirez won’t get credit for the goal–which will end up as an own goal against Brown–but he certainly was key to it happening. Houston 2 - 1.

86:03. But the Comets defense cannot hold: a lovely cross from Diego Chávez is met in the box by Gary Jones, and he heads it hard and low into the corner of the net. We’re tied again. What a second half! San Diego 2 - 2.

The Comets keep attacking, and despite three corners in the final four minutes, are unable to grab the game-winner. While disappointed to lose the lead, McKinnon will be happy to start the season with the one point.

Lance Miller showed his nervousness in the opening game, and will be looked to regain his club form in league play. At the other end of the evaluations, Matt Richardson gains the man of the match award, as much for his goal as for his constant danger on the right hand side.

From David Barron's Diary: Racing Club Opening Day

Well, that’s that.

Our first league game on a wet miserable day at that. We’re up against the New York Liberty. They’re a new team, but have some deep pockets, and seem to be decent from the scouting reports. I know their coach–Jean Baudrillard–from our history trying to scratch out jobs on the touchlines.

I had to really juggle the lineup today: Edens needs a rest, as do a few other kids, so we started with three in the middle (Cadilla, Vassallo, and the new kid, Kelvin de los Reyes) with two wingers (Calderón and another new player, Ian Moore) and Butler up front. We’ve brought in a few decent kids in the past week or two, and have stopped–for the most part–using players from the throngs that wait outside the park during training. It’s something.

The game starts fantastically for us: Justin Fisher lobbed a deep cross into the box, and Moore easily cleared his man for a free header. It goes in, and we’re up 1-0 only a few minutes in. A few minutes later, bad news: Butler took a nasty spill and had to come off. Unsure how bad that will be. It forces another new face–Yordan Ferrer, who I think has some spark–to come on far before I had hoped, but nothing like being thrown in the pool to see if you can swim.

I haven’t written much about Eliseo Agüeros, our keeper, but I should. He’s raw–bloody raw. But at 15 what else could he be? He’s athletic, and as long as he doesn’t think too much, has been good for us. Twice early in this game Duke Hashimoto–what a name!–got through, but Agüeros was up to it. It’s lucky, as we have no cover at all. The backup trips over his own feet, and we’re hoping to bring someone else in straight off.

We went in 1-0 at halftime, and I tried to keep their focus up, encourage them. Early in the second half, though, the third time was the charm: Hashimoto got free again, and this time slotted it past Eliseo with ease. Well, no surprise, really: a clean sheet would have been a lot to ask from this game.

We were being outshot all game, and it was just a matter of time–Jordan Cila drilled a 20 yard screamer into the upper right corner on a break, and we were down 2-1, having to scramble hard with a side that was utterly gassed.

Not much else. Another loss, some flashes of potential. Time to go see some old friends in Brooklyn. I hope the kids don’t get too caught up in the Big Apple … first time out of Haiti for many of them. Dayan has assured me he'll chaperone them, but he says everything with that little smile. I'm still not quite sure when he's serious and when he's not.

In the Office: From Levi McKinnon's Diary, June 8, 2009.

I was sitting at my desk, watching video of our next two opponents when a there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” I said, surprised—the staff were in a pre-meeting for a session with me in 20 minutes, and the players had, I thought, all gone home. It was Leiweke, looking a bit uncomfortable. “David, come in, sit down.”

He did.

“What can I do for you?”

He ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the floor. “Um, Coach … I know we didn’t start off on the best foot a few months ago.”

I didn’t say anything. I never had a problem with Leiweke, and he certainly could help us in the field. But Marcus Westwood plays the same position, and is nearly as good. And costs the club 1/3 the salary—there was pressure from above to move Leiweke, and we even were pretty sure we had him shipped out to Tampa Bay a few weeks earlier. Honestly, we could use the salary room, so I was hoping that deal would go through. Nothing personal from my side, but, of course, quite personal from his.

He paused.

“Coach, I like what you’re doing here. I really do. I want to be here. I appreciate you taking my name off the transfer list, but I just wanted to come in here and say it to you, face to face. I’d like to be a part of this.”

I hesitated. This was delicate.

“I appreciate that David. I really do. And I hope you know that I see that you can help us on the field.” Now the harder part. “This is a strange game, though. There are things that end up being far beyond our control, and certain realities that end up influencing everything that happens at a club.”

He looked up, met my gaze.

“I worked hard for that contract.”

I cut him off with a raised hand. “I know you did, David. And I’m happy for you—I want all my players to make enough money to live on, to set some aside, and to have some options when the end of the road comes along. I guess what I’m trying to say is that putting you the transfer list, the deal with Tampa Bay, all of that was economically driven. As long as the club does well, as long as we have the money to pay you, as long as you are able to contribute and warrant that paycheck, I want you here.”

He nodded, and seemed to understand that was the best he could get.

“OK. OK. So the Tampa Bay thing is dead?”

I spread my hands. “As far as I know, yes. They may call us, but we aren’t calling them. Or anyone else, right now.”

“OK.” He wiped his hands on his sweatpants. “Well, that’s it.”

“Good. Remember, training tomorrow, 8:30.”

He rose. “See you then. And, thanks, Coach.”

I stared at the door after he left. I had been honest with him, but not totally forthcoming. The truth was, I liked him off the bench late in games, but it wasn’t a key role. And we just couldn’t afford him if he wasn’t a key part of the team.

From Cape Town: Romain, We Hardly We Knew Ye'

Romain Carbonnier, assumed to be a lock for the first team at Ajax Cape Town, was sold today to Ligue 2 side Clermont Foot 63 for an estimated US$1,500,000. Ajax coach Terry Langford explained the move in a short, prepared statement that was read to the press:

We wish Romain all the best, and know that he will find ways to shine back at home in France in Ligue 2.

To our fans, we ask for patience: this was a move designed to bring income to the club, allowing us to transform Ajax CT into an internationally known side playing an exciting, innovative form of soccer.

Langford declined to take questions, and left the room quite quickly.

Supporters' spokesperson, Peter Hendricks, was quite agitated by the move: “Carbonnier was our most dangerous young striker. I’ll give Langford some rope, but I’m scared this is just the beginning of either a massive fire sale or some newfangled set of tactics destined to see us relegated.”

Tonight, I Play Myself. This is actually kinda’ exciting. Houston and Racing Club play each other tonight, meaning I get to control both sides of the match, and intertwine the narratives. I’ll liveblog the game, which I’ll watch in its entirety. I had considered trying to send Racing Club some players on loan from Houston, but never got it together--felt too much like gaming the system, since the manager hadn't had a reason to interact yet. I was anxious before this that the game would somehow break with human managers on both sides of the pitch, but all turned out well.

This game is from the group round of The Imposter's Cup, a huge invitational tournament featuring teams with similar or duplicate names from all over the globe.

Liveblog: Racing Club v. Houston, June 18, 2009.

PREMATCH

Houston has to be heavily favored in this Imposter’s Cup clash. It’s windy and wet in Houston, and the weather may impact the pitch significantly. Both teams are relatively healthy: David Barron of Racing Club Haïtien can field his preferred starting lineup for the first time in ages, and Levi McKinnon’s Comets make only three changes, with Victor Ramirez starting up front and–perhaps more of a concern–Ralph Murphy and Justin Watson starting the game on the back line in place of Michael Nsien and Simon Booth.

Still, given the paucity of attack Racing has shown so far, the second string defense should be plenty.

Referee Miriam Simos is checking her watch, blows the whistle, and we’re underway!

1:03. Danny Cruz is allowed to cover 2/3 of the field without being challenged, leading to a nice pass to Cy Tolliver, who dumps the ball to Victor Ramirez. Neither Craig Demmin nor Orlando Vassallo show much interest in playing defense (Vassallo tends not to, but Demmin is only here for his defense), Ramirez splits them, and slots the ball past Eliseo Agüeros for a 1-0 Comets lead. That sure didn’t take very long. 1-0 Houston.

4:10. A long clearance from Demmin is aimed in front of newly signed Christian Herrmann. Comets' keeper Ronnie Pascale has to beat him to the spot outside the box, but he does and clears the ball safely to the sideline. Herrmann is an energetic player, but he’s tiny–he’s listed as 5’3″ and may be even smaller than that.

10:21. Matt Richardson finds Ramirez in space just outside the 6 yard box. Ramirez shoots, and leaves Agüeros flat-footed, but the ball caroms off the post, and is safely cleared.

11:00. Kevin Friedland is playing very well at left back for the Comets–several breaks have started down that side for Racing Club, and he’s intercepted every one of them.

15:56. A nifty exchange between Yordan Ferrar (another new signing for the Haitians) and teenage captain Arturo Robaina at the top of the box was intercepted deftly by Tolliver.

18:09. A foul by Vassallo leads to a Tolliver free kick, resulting in a lovely pass to Richardson who turns, shoots, and again the Comets hit the right hand post. Unlucky there.

19:03. Ramirez finds space at the edge of the box, and again only the post on the right hand side save Racing Club from going down 2-0.

22:55. Ralph Murphy rises to meet a header and sends it to the far post. Again the Haitian keeper is beaten, but Kenny Cudworth is there to clear it off the line.

25:00. It looks like Racing Club is changing tactics slightly. They look more defensive, and seem focused on keeping the scoreline as it is. In response, the Houston wingers are spreading out, looking to take advantage of the additional space.

26:16. Racing Club has moments: Robaina takes the ball from Cruz and skips by him effortlessly, but they cannot string them together to make a concerted attack. Houston is simply better.

28:42. Lance Miller, quiet so far, sends a header from directly in front of goal woefully off target.

42:00. The game has slowed down a bit: Houston is still dominating possession, but the more defensive stance by Racing Club is preventing it from turning into clear shots. However, very little has been available on the counter.

44:04. Ramirez leads Miller into the box, but Agüeros beats him to the ball with a smothering dive.

45:52. A silly foul by Justin Watson gives Demmin free kick just outside the box. That’s headed to safety, as is the resulting corner kick. The second corner by Orlando Vassallo hits the bar (!), but bounces off to end the first half.

Racing Club won’t be too upset with the scoreline–right now, they need to find a way to control the ball on the counter. On the other side, Houston needs to not get frustrated, and keep the shots coming.

The rain shows no sign of slowing as the second half begins.

49:03. Only a last minute intervention by Jesús Gómez keeps Miller from being free 10 feet in front of the goal.

51:08. Vassallo beats Ralph Murphy to a loose ball and is all alone in the box. He rushes the shot, though, and it sails well over the goal.

58:43. We have our first substitution as David Barron sends on Antonio Cadilla for Christian Herrmann. Cadilla should join Kelvin de los Reyes in a more attacking shape, I would guess.

63:29. Marcus Westwood comes on to take Danny Cruz’ place, in a straight swap of left midfielders.

64:46. And Westwood immediately pays dividends: Ramirez lofts a corner into the box, where it is met by Westwood who cleverly chips it towards the far post, where Gianmarco de Carlo is waiting. He heads it back across the goalmouth, where Justin Fisher totally mishits the clearance. The ball falls to Richardson’s feet, and he buries it in the back of the net. 2-0 Houston.

70:50. Each club makes a substitution: for Racing Club, Ian Moore comes on for the ineffective Kelvin de los Reyes on the right wing, while for the Comets, Victor Ramirez comes off for Jonathan Bolaños. Bolaños will take up a role in midfield, leaving Miller on his own up front.

78:38. Miller looks quite lively since Ramirez went off–perhaps he likes the extra space. He had a header go just wide, served in a lovely cross that Richardson couldn’t direct to goal, and just won a free kick from Demmins just outside the right edge of the box.

83:53. Pablo Santa Rosa comes on for Artura Robaina, giving Racing Club two legitimate forwards for the final few minutes of the match.

86:25. Marcus Westwood has the ball in the corner when he spots Kevin Friedland at the very top of the box, completely alone. He slides it over to the defender, who rockets the ball into the top corner of the net for his first goal for the Comets. Nothing Agüeros could do about that one. 3-0 Houston.

86:58. Michael Nsien replaces Justin Watson for Houston, and both teams have used their full allotment of substitutes.

Pascale has to deal with one dangerous cross, but the game ends without further incident.

As expected, the greater skill and physicality of the Comets showed through, and while the result is as expected, Barron will certainly have wished to get more from the match. Kevin Friedland’s late goal sealed the man of the match award.

In other Imposter’s Cup results, the other Racing Club–from France–defeated Real Salt Lake in a high scoring affair, 5-3; Racing de Montevideo defeated Racing FC 1-0; Chelsea dominated Nigeria’s Sunshine Stars 4-0; and Real Madrid was kept in check, put still prevailed over the Indianapolis ABC’s, 1-0.

An Embarrassing End to June

Just in case any ideas of overconfidence were emerging …

Racing Club have lost their last 3 games by a combined score of 13-0. 3-0 to the Comets, 4-0 to Manchester United, and 6-0 to Alianza Lima. Racing Club boss David Barron was fuming after the Alianza match, and was seen gesticulating madly in heated conversation, first with assistant coach Dayán Campbell, and then with club chairman Antonio Santos.

Houston has fared better overall, but took a drubbing, 5-0, at the hands of Manchester United (they play Alianza on the 2nd).

We caught up with Barron later that evening, when he had the following to say:

Look, all I can say is that there are some players on this squad who have no business here. We can play as hard as we want, we can train as hard as we want, but at some point we have to face up to the lack of talent at the end of our roster and the lack of cover for injuries.

He was unresponsive to further questions, staring instead into his glass and ignoring our treaties.

Our suspicion is there could be some club turnover in Haiti in the near future.

From David Barron's Diary. July 7, 2009.

This has to be the hardest thing I’ve tried to do. Go on, take the job, they said. You’ll do great. You work well with kids. You like the beach. You believe in spirits, so that voodoo stuff won’t bother you. I’ve been told the proper name is vodun.

Right. Nobody mentioned the urban decay, the ruined buildings, the crushing poverty. They sit outside our gates each morning, hands held out–or, in two cases, hand held out, as the other one is gone, just a stump wrapped with dirty rags. “Mr. Coach, Mr. Coach,” they cry. Sometimes I give them something, most days I don’t.

I went and talked to someone on the board about organizing them–at least the kids–into a schoolboy team or the like, and got laughed at.

If we were winning, if we had a hope of winning, maybe it would be different. But right now …

I’ve been told to ignore the chalk drawings that sometimes appear on the sidewalk outside the stadium–fancy crosses, oddly angled squares, numbers. I dunno … I get a tingly feeling near some of them, and give them a wide berth. Most of the players do, too–some cross themselves as they walk by, some just walk around them.

One spot of good news. Agüeros is recovering nicely from his illness, so maybe I never again have to see Contino between the posts. Club Franciscain have stonewalled us on Julien, refusing an offer far in excess of his value. I don’t know why, but we need to find another keeper somewhere else now.

From Danyil Oranje's Diary, July 12, 2009.

For f**k’s sake.

I know all these cups generate money and all that, but I have a side to manage, and they aren’t in shape yet. So I’m fielding tired players, and tired players that try to do too much turn into injured players. And I don’t want any injured players.

So, the squad in today’s match with Platense (Imposter’s Cup–wtf is that?) is a real mixed one. Lampard, Ballack, JT, and Ashley are all in there, but the rest is a real mix. Hopefully Sturridge will show me something up front, and Töre and Conor Clifford can contribute. Daniele is on the bench, and he’ll definitely see some time as well.

Luckily, Platense should be overwhelmed here, but you never know. But, I’m more concerned about the impact on the squad than the result.

***

Halftime found us up 2-0. The performance is fine, if a bit uninspired. My real concern is that Töre and Clifford are both gassed. I can get Gökhan off now, but I need Conor to push through it.

* * *

Which, they did. So, a win, which is a win, which is a good thing. Devyne & Sturridge did well from the babies. Both should see some time this season.

But we need to get the match schedule down–some of the latter rounds here will be much tougher.

The second of the me v. me games. I loved this--once all five mgrs have an international side, too, it should happen somewhat regularly. Much fun. I don't think the match report is very good, but this--midsummer--is about when some of the other storylines begin to emerge.

Houston v. Racing Club, Leg Two

Houston won the first game, 3-0, and sits in second place in the group behind, ahem, Manchester United. ManU has to be seen as a lock to qualify, meaning the Comets are striving for one of the four at-large qualification slots. Currently, The Phoenix, Philadelphia Union, the NY Giants, Montedio, and Fargo 1871 are all in second place with 10 or more points (Houston has 10, with 3 wins and a draw in 6 games), so they are in the race, but need to keep their record up.

Houston comes into the game pretty beat up: they will start three in midfield, with reserves David Leiweke and Matt Kirby stepping onto the starting 11 and Victor Ramirez and Houston Dynamo loanee Danny Cruz up front. Racing Club is faring little better, with a young side clearly exhausted by the match schedule: usual reserves Andy Robinson and Craig Westerman start, and the formation will be missing their dependable anchor man, Edens Chery with both Orlando Vassallo and young captain Arturo Robaino dropping into more defensive roles from central midfield.

And, we’re underway in the drizzle.

1:16. Danny Cruz does a marvelous job dancing along the endline, but his shot rolls harmlessly across the goalpost–just couldn’t quite get the necessary angle there.

6:27. Michael Nsien makes a lovely run down the left and floats a cross that rolls across the face of goal. Victor Ramirez is slow to get there, and eventually the ball is cleared by Andy Robinson for a corner.

21:00. You get the feeling that Houston will score here, but they are, at least so far, unable to put the final touches on their moves–gorgeous passes into the box, nice moves, but poor finishes. That said, Racing Club looks pretty stale on their offense–as has been typical all year, Ishmael Butler shows glimpses, but cannot convert.

40:45. Racing Club’s youth proves their undoing. Victor Ramirez plays a through ball towards Danny Cruz, who has a step on the defenders entering the box. Alberto Morrison gets a leg on the clearance, but Andy Robinson, racing back on the left side, tries to tap the ball back to his own keeper. It wrong-foots Eliseo Agüeros, and rolls over the line. In that situation, Robinson needs to clear that ball out of bounds for either a corner or a throw-in–he’s far too close to goal to involve the keeper. 1-0 Houston.

Which is how we go in at halftime. Racing Club can be pleased with how they’ve withstood the pressure, but if Houston can find a finish, they should win comfortably.

47:41. And, there it is. Ramirez feeds the ball into the path of a streaking Danny Cruz, who beats Agüeros with a drive low to the near post. 2-0 Houston.

61:34. We have the first two substitutions of the game: Craig Westerman, who has been virtually invisible all game for Racing Club, comes off for Ian Moore and Victor Ramirez, who has had a very good game, is replaced by George Stevens for Houston.

69:54. Chrstiann Herrmann comes on for Orlando Vassallo for Racing Club, who are pushing more and more forward in an attempt to grab a point from the match.

70:25. And that should do it. Danny Cruz’s shot from just inside the edge of the box is turned away by Agüeros, but the rebound falls right into the path of George Stevens, who sends it home with authority. 3-0 Houston. Ricardo Pardo comes on for Justin Watson, who seems to have picked up a knock, and is limping noticeably as he comes off the pitch.

82:29. Our final two substitutions are made: Nick Smith for Esien for Houston and Edens Chery for Yordan Ferrar for Racing Club.

A fairly drab second half, but Houston never really was under threat here.

Daniel Cruz’s good play and his goal gave him the man of the match.

From Danyil Oranje’s Diary, July 18, 2009.

This. This is why I took this job.

I know it’s just a friendly with our loan team, Watford, but … just before halftime, JT cleared a ball from defense on a header straight to Drogba. Drogba drops the ball from his chest and sends a pass with the outside of his foot hard and square to a streaking Lampard, who controls it just past midfield. Lampard takes a touch, glances up, and sees Kalou on the right. A slight fake to get a better angle, a precise kick, and Solomon blows past his man–and that’s the part that may not happen in league games, but here he does, and it is magic, pure magic, followed by a low pass with perfect weight back to Lampard who has edged towards the corner of the box. Frank catches it in stride, takes a touch to the outside to give him space, turns, and drills it through to the far post.

That is what we’re capable of this year.

I need to convince them I can take them to these heights on a regular basis, making near perfection a matter of routine, but it’s all there.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary, July 31, 2009: The Silver Boot.

I don’t think I will ever understand Texas. I know I’ve only been here a few months, but …

Earlier today we were running 4 on 4′s in practice, and I saw Mr. Wigley walking across the pitch towards me. That’s not that unusual, he often takes a walk around while we’re practicing, but this time he approached me. Said, “Hello,” turned, watched the drills for a few minutes, then said, “McKinnon, I just want you to know, I don’t like Dallas. At all. We may not be the best team in Texas, but we’re damn sure better than any bunch of boys from Dallas.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and shouted something to Palacios about being too far off his line.

“Just remember that. You can lose a lot of games this year, long as you win tomorrow.”

He looked back towards small building that housed our offices, and smiled. “You know only two things come from Dallas, right? And those sure as hell aren’t steers we’re playing.”

Then, he turned and walked past me towards the building, clapping me on the shoulder as he passed.

I may not understand much of what he said, but one thing came through loud and clear: we sure better show up against FC Dallas tomorrow.

That brings us to the end of July and, hence, to the first general update posted in Careers. Here is a link directly to the July post, but be warned, if you scroll down, you will see spoilers. I will add these links at the end of each month of narrative, so folks who want a more generic, wait, what is happening in this world type thing can find them in the right place, chronologically.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary, August 4, 2009

After being beaten pretty soundly by FC Dallas, I dreaded coming to work today. When I got into my office, in addition to the usual junk–DVD’s from agents trying to hawk their players (if only they knew our transfer budget was so small), ads from sportswear companies, letters from non-profits asking for tickets–was a small beige envelope, with Coach handwritten across the front.

I turned it over, and there was a stylized “W” on the back, beneath a thick horizontal bar. Oh … it was from the chairman.

I was scared–he is a hard man to read, and I have no idea what he thinks of the team, of me, of what we’re doing. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that this was it, that inside was a note asking me to clear out my desk. So, I put the rest of the pile down, and went around my cluttered desk to my chair, took a deep breath, and opened it. Inside was a handwritten card. All it said was

You’re working hard. I like that. We’ll get them next year.

-IW.

The same W and line was in the lower right hand corner. Some kind of seal? I dunno.

In any case, it was heartening, and a little sweet, and it made me want to do all that much better with this bunch of kids and castoffs.

From David Barron's Diary. August 15, 2009.

A Very Good Few Days.

Wow.

We held SF FAC to a scoreless draw in our division game on Saturday. A solid effort from the back line, led by emergency starter Andy Robinson. Then, we beat Vista Hermosa in the NA Cup on Wednesday–and, perhaps more importantly, beat them when Butler spun into spaced and launched a missile a good 25 yards out from goal for the score. He hadn’t scored all year, and I could tell it was getting to him, that despite the staff’s reassurances, he was doubting himself. After it went in, the kid was pure confidence.

And, to top it all, it looks like we’ve brought another player with a chance to be something special in from Violette. His name is Andre Ramírez, and I really like what I’ve seen.

It does mean that I need to let a couple kids go–Wondolowski and Westerman both are just taking up space and seem to be having a hard time gelling with the rest of the team–which I hate. But, if I’m right about Ramírez, we may have another attacking player to take some pressure off Butler, and to allow us to actually score once in a while. Which does, I hear, improve our chances of winning.

And, beyond that, beers last night with Campbell. The cool, distant assistant coach is coming around. He's good people.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary. The FA Can Kiss My Pasty White Ass.

I can barely write, I’m so ****ed off.

This was a big game. Rochester came in here just below us in the Division, and we were just sort of rounding into some sort of form. And we may not have won, anyways. But we certainly didn’t deserve to lose like this, and the team never deserves to lose because some trained monkey with a whistle–hell, in this case, an untrained monkey–decides to make himself the center of attention. Name was something Lews … Danny Lewis. Out of shape idiot in a zebra shirt. God, I hate referees sometimes.

Flitcroft gets sent off for a tackle that isn’t even a foul, let alone a red card, then De Carlo gets called for a foul in the box for a cheap penalty. All this after Menyongar–who we passed on as a transfer, can’t wait to see the press about that–scored two early to put them up 2-0.

The whole team was just flustered–this new kid, poor guy, was on for his first league time on the back line and headed the ball right past Pascale for an own-goal. And I have no clue what Gianmarco was doing–he just stopped playing. I tore into him pretty good in the dressing room. We’ll see how he responds. We allowed a soft one from a corner in extra time, and the final scoreline was 5-1. Wasted a fantastic breakaway from Ramirez.

I went off in the press conference. Probably get fined. Don’t really care–it was horrible.

Don’t think Wigley’s ever seen me like that; not sure he’ll like it either.

Oh, yeah, might not have to worry about Leiweke anymore. He tore up his knee pretty bad, is out for at least a month. Makes it harder to dump his salary, though.

Christ … OK, relax some tonight, back at it tomorrow. Going to have to be careful, though: these kids have never seen me like this, need to keep them scared, but not terrified.

South African Premiere League (SAPL) Opening Day!

[Edited feed for Ajax CT. We join the highly trained presenter, already in progress.]

Well, here it is, the moment we’ve all been waiting for: opening day in the SAPL! Today we’re going to take an in-depth look at the game from Atteridgeville Stadium in Pretoria, where defending champions SuperSport United will host Ajax Cape Town. Ajax is most definitely a new-look team this year, as new manager Terry Langford has literally ripped apart the squad that finished 7th in the league last season. Langford has brought in 10 new players since July 1st, while 9 have been given their walking papers, most notably promising French striker Romain Carbonnier and wingers Brett Evans and Franklyn Cale.

I’m here with the uncle of a former leading player, who will be providing expert commentary. Tell me, what do you think of Langford’s moves so far.

He’s daft, I tell you. Absolutely daft. A club can’t survive like that–there’s no stability, no continuality, you can’t depend on anything when you have all these players coming and going.

Well, it looks like he may not be done: the moves have netted Ajax a sum of just over 3 million dollars. Do you think more purchases could be in their future?

I sure do. I would bet a nice new yacht will show up at the chairman’s beach house, maybe a Mercedes. Can you believe the amount of dosh being thrown at these fellows? It’s just unbelievable. We used to play for the sheer love of the game, had jobs in the week, came out to kick the ball around on the weekend.

Yes, well, times have changed. Langford has also installed a new system with the Urban Warriors, it’s a high motion tactic, with a lot of overlapping runs, and a lot of interchange on the flanks between the attackers and the wing backs. Do you think that kind of innovation can work in South Africa?

I watched them practice the other day, and I have to say that I don’t see it. You have all these players running around willy-nilly, a lot of knocking the ball into open space. It doesn’t look like anyone actually knows what they’re doing out there. Lads play better when responsibility is a known thing, when each player has a good sense of where they need to get to in order to make sure the job they are given is fully attended.

Well, there you have it. Expert opinions on Langford’s new look Ajax side are not favorable. Their difficulties are sure to be compounded by the absence of starters Bafo Biyala, Tlou Segolela, and Denniss Ivanovs as well as key sub Richard Rantjie to injury. Now to the studio for an update on SuperSport.

[superSport information cut, we move directly to the live blog of the match.]

4:56. The first real chance of the match comes when Tebogo Langerman dances across the top of the box before cutting brilliantly inside of two defenders, but Hans Vonk is up to the task, cleanly parrying the shot.

16:00. SuperSport is dominating possession, and Brian Umony has looked quite dangerous on his runs inside the box, but nothing has come of it so far.

Somewhat drab first half here, we go into the dressing rooms scoreless.

47:39. Ajax comes out looking stronger, working the ball more through midfielder Thulani Serero, however it is SuperSport who strikes first, with Langermans finding space from a marvelous pass from Siyabonga Nkosi before beating Vonk low and hard by the near post. It’s his first ever goal for SuperSport, and he’s clearly delighted. SuperSport 1-0.

69:19. Ajax Amsterdam loanee Stanton Lewis comes on for Serero.

70:20. Lewis is immediately involved: his header clearance of a corner kick falls deep to Langermans, who unleashes a rocket from 30 yards that beats Vonk to the upper corner of the net. What a strike that was! It’s 2-0 SuperSport now, with Ajax not looking particularly dangerous. Ajax brings George Maluleka in to replace Sameegh Doutie on the right wing, and shift to a more aggressive style trying to get a point from this match.

80:13. Ajax defender Siphiwe Lewis, who is young but--according to rumor--has a chance to turn into something special, betrays his team here. Dario simply beats him to an easy ball, waltzes in to the box and calmly slots a shot home. It’s 3-0 SuperSport, and the Ajax supporters are filing out of the stadium

That’s how it ends. Ajax fans will have reason to be displeased with Clinton Felix and Diyo Sibisi, as well as veteran Vonk between the posts, but Lance Davids had a good game on the wing, and maybe there are bits here that Langford can build on in his grand experiment. For now, however, SuperSport look in fine form, and are focused on repeating again as league champions.

This is a great example of something that I would write really differently now--it is just a match report now, no characters, no taking advantage of the magnificent moment of play to have a coach/player or coach/assistant coach interaction. But, we're getting there--this is also about when I started seeing some narrative possibilities in some of the clubs. Hope those of you who have stuck with it enjoy the next few days as those bits appear.

Chelsea Opening Day

A day of milestones for the Blues: Peter Cech is making his 275th league appearance, and, of course, all eyes will be on Daniele De Rossi, making his debut for the side as they travel across town to White Hart Lane.

Gareth Bale–a well known object of desire for new Chelsea boss Danyil Oranje–fouls Joe Cole on the ball 2 minutes into the match. This seems innocuous enough, but the free kick, taken by right back Branislav Ivanovic, starts the following sequence:

Ivanovic – square to Terry – to De Rossi in the circle – direct to Anelka upfield, who is closely marked by Ledley King, with Woodgate and Bale in good position behind – Anelka takes a dribble, cannot find space, and knocks it back to De Rossi, who is now on the Tottenham side of midfield – square to Ashley Cole on the left – pressure from Aaron Lennon leads to Cole dumping it ahead short to Essien – back to De Rossi – to Lampard who has moved to the center of the pitch – Lampard’s shot is blocked by Jenas, but rebounds directly to Alex, who is now across midfield, with only Terry left on the defensive side of midfield – Alex dumps it to Essien – who turns to find Zhirkov on the wing – back to Alex, who returns it again to Zhirkov – a cross to the right flank to Ivanovic – to Joe Cole slightly ahead – to De Rossi at the circle – another direct pass to Anelka, who is now near the edge of the box – who squares it directly into the path of Lampard. Frank's head stays down, he takes a step, and unleashes that cannon of a leg of his, and Gomes never has a chance.

16 passes involving 9 players. Magnificent!

Bale does nothing to put Oranje off early on, drilling a 25 yard strike into the back of the net in the 30th minute to tie the score at 1.

It stays that way until the 89th minute, when Robbie Keane sneaks free in the box, and scores for Tottenham. The home crowd explodes, and despite a wave of attacks in extra time, Chelsea is unable to break through. A disappointing start for the Blue, and perhaps a bit of a wake up call after their easy preseason schedule.

Tottenham 2 - Chelsea 1

T: Gareth Bale, Robbie Keane

C: Frank Lampard

And so, to the end of August.

August World Update in Careers.

Remember, spoilers if you scroll down there. Coming in a couple minutes: my first bit of insight into Racing Club.

The Ups & Downs of a Young Team: A Racing Club Scene.

On September 2nd, we welcomed Notre Dame to Sylvia Cator, and put together what was easily our best peformance of the year. Andy Robinson–quite impressive in training and matches the last few weeks–started us off with a goal from just outside the box, but when the visitors from Barbados tied the game, I honestly felt a 1-1 draw was in the works.

But, no. The shift in tactics seems to be working–cleaner passes, more patience, more possession in the attacking third. And Butterfly Butler (he insists I call him that now that he’s scored a goal), Kevin Calderón, and Christian Herrmann all scored. The defense stayed strong, and we won 4-1.

The boys were elated, but I was worried right away: they seemed to think some magic switch had been flipped, and that all games would be like that from now on.

Three days later, the TC Lakers came to town. Nothing worked. No possession, no defense, no organization. We only got 2 shots off the whole game, for chrissakes. They destroyed us, absolutely tore us a new one. The final score was 5-0, and it could have been twice that.

The kids were shellshocked, and barely a sound came out of the locker room after the game. I stayed in my office after the press conference–sometimes, you just have to let the team figure it out on their own.

When I came back, I thought the room was empty until I heard a soft sound from the corner. There was Eliseo, sitting in front of his locker, his head buried beneath a towel. The room was dark, only a light from the hall fighting the grimy glow of a streetlamp through the window. A third of the lockers were missing doors, most of the others had dents and scratches from various postgame incidents over the years. It wasn't much, but it was home, as they say.

“Agüeros?”

He almost jumped out of his skin–he clearly thought he was alone, too. He quickly took the towel off, and looked up. His eyes were red, and I assume there had been tears over the five he let in.

“It’s OK, it’s just me. Ça va?”

He managed a weak smile. “Oui, ça va.” He didn’t mean it, and times like this I really cursed my 7th grade French.

I went over to him and pulled up one of the old folding metal chairs which screeched eerily on the cold tin floor. I held his gaze until he shook his head, and with a trembling lip said, “Non. I am not OK. Sir David, what can I do?”

They call me Sir David. I have to fight not to smile every time I hear it. Shades of royalty and all that.

“All you can do is forget it, Eliseo. Forget it completely. Go home, hug your Mama, go to sleep. Come back tomorrow and work harder. That’s all.”

He looked up, nodded, took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Si. D’Accord. OK.”

“OK.” I got up. “See you tomorrow, Eliseo.”

I walked out into the Port-au-Prince evening. The heavy smell of the ocean, the constant noise of birds, of vendors on the street, of horns. What else could I do? Here’s a kid, living at home with 7–9?–12?–siblings, and suddenly he’s thrown into the national spotlight as the regular goalie on a professional team. He’s 15. Fifteen. He should be discovering the wonder of girls and thinking about skipping school.

Cruel game, at times.

From David Barron's Diary: Celebrating What We Can

Before todays game against Charlotte SAS, we had a little ceremony for Demmin. All the lads signed a flag that Arturo Robaina’s aunt, who is some sort of well-known seamstress, had made. It had a picture of Craig sewn into it–quite nice, actually. It was his 200th league game–quite a career, most of it spent in Rochester, but stints all over: Tampa Bay, Virginia Beach, Mississippi, and now back nearer to his Trinidadian home.

Good on him. He’s 38 now, so this may be his last hurrah. I’d be happy to have him as a coach if he wants someday. We’ll see.

From David Barron's Diary. September 26, 2009.

Well.

At least we scored. And if you take away the goals by that one kid, we only lost 2-1. He scored 5, though. My lord … 7-1. Where do we go from here? This has to be rock bottom.

I’m gone tomorrow. I can feel it. I am going to head to the park, show up, and there will be a message from someone telling me that Santos wants to see me, and he’ll be behind that huge desk of his, smoking one of those cigars, and I’ll have to just eat it. ****. Won’t be the first time, I guess.

But there’s some spark here, some potential. We may never challenge for promotion, but there is no way we’re this bad. Is there?

The Next Day. Part 1. September 28, 2009.

The early morning sun found David Barron already awake, although still in bed. His head was thick from the scotch and the beer the night before, but he was becoming increasingly used to that. He raised an arm against the light, grunted, and threw off the thin cotton sheet. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he rested a moment, head cradled in his hands.

He had a bad feeling about today, an ominous foreboding that he couldn’t shake.

As always, Luísa was already up, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was in the air, lifting him up from the last embrace of sleep. He shook his head gently, stretched, rubbed his temples in the vain hope of dismissing the dull pain there, and pulled on the white shirt and blue sweatpants hanging awkwardly off the chair on the far side of the room. Some yawns, more scratches, and he was off to the kitchen.

“Morning, Luísa.”

“Mm-hmmm. Here you are.” She pushed the waiting coffee towards him.

“Thank-you. You’re a godsend.”

“Mm-hmmm. I’ll leave you to it.”

He’d never had a housekeeper before. Or a gardener. Or a driver. He thought it silly at first, but realized he was slowly getting used to it, even enjoying some of the ease of life it afforded. “You’re getting soft, Barron,” he thought to himself. “Need to be able to take care of yourself.” He refilled his cup, moved back to the table, looked out across the veranda, where he could just make out the thin line of blue of the ocean in the distance. “That’s better,” he thought to himself as he emptied his second cup of strong coffee, the thickness behind his eyes slowly receding.

He got up, clattering his chair unintentionally as he did so. Luísa heard him, and called out, “Do you want breakfast?”

“No, thank you Luísa. I’ll eat at the park.”

She entered the room, cleaning her hands on a white towel, and made a disapproving smacking sound with her lips. “The food is no good there. You need to eat better–let me make you a lunch at least.”

David smiled and nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely.” She turned, and began to pull things out of the refrigerator, which hissed in protest as cold escaped the open door. He headed back towards the bedroom, showered, and dressed in a clean tracksuit, obeying the dress code of soccer coaches everywhere.

Taking the bag from Luísa as he left, he saw his driver, James, perched on a chair outside looking expectantly his way. He had only used him a time or two since the season started, preferring both to avoid the constant thread of death on the Port-au-Prince roads and to see more of the city as he walked the mile or so to the club’s facilities. He shook his head, and James smiled and stood up. There were rumors James spent his days flirting with Luísa, which seemed fine.

Heading out of the residential neighborhood that was currently his home, Barron headed down Rue 22 Septembre and, as always, was aware of the gradual transition out of the protected, gated homes that largely housed expatriates and the thin top layer of the economic pyramid towards the loud chaos of the city center. This morning, he veered out of his way, avoiding the large market and the invariable battles with touts, as well as the band of children he would pick up. Heading down Rue de Dehoux, he paused to look at the slum that sat across from the stadium. He was still not quite used to it: the sprawling mass of concrete and plastic, the small tendrils of smoke rising from trashcan fires, the fences that seemed to only be there to separate the world of the stadium from the harsh reality across the way.

He turned, and ducked into the employee’s entrance, stopping to clasp the hand of the guard. “Morning Georges.”

“Bonjour, Sir David. We’ll bounce back, you’ll see.”

Barron forced a smile. “I’m sure of it, too. They’re a good bunch of kids.” Georges nodded, released his grip, and Barron moved on.

He unlocked his office, and bent over to pick up the morning paper, slid under his door each day. Moving behind his desk, he opened it directly to the sports pages, and groaned audibly. Agüeros Not Good Enough read the headline, followed by a dozen column inches excoriating his young goalkeeper, blaming his inconsistency in goal for the recent losing streak. Barron could feel the tension building at the base of his neck as he read. The article was unsigned–typical media cowardice. He made a note to talk to Eliseo later–surely he and his family would read it, and it would be a challenge to keep the young keeper’s confidence from sagging even further.

The rest of the morning was spent reviewing the video of the 7-1 thrashing. It was penance more than scouting, a forced rehearsal of the horrors of the last match. Everyone was horrible, even Edens, brought in to be, along with Demmins, the rock of the team, the guiding force as they grew, was absurdly bad. SF FAC had contacted him last week, proposing to take Chery off his hands for free. Barron grimaced at the thought of letting him go, knowing that if the offer increased at all significantly, it would probably be accepted.

Ah, there. The one bright spot. Yordan Ferrer took a long pass, touched it deftly into the box with his right foot, came onto it squarely, and blasted it into the roof of the goal. And, there, just after as he wheeled around towards the bench and his screaming teammates. His smile, the joy, the genuine joy mixed with a hint of surprise–he hadn’t scored in what, 30 matches? He rewatched Ferrer’s moment a few times, then returned to the massacre. Not a lot to coach from there–they were just bad, especially at the back. Maybe that was the result of missing Demmin who, at 39, needed a day off here and there. He’d have to figure out who back there could take charge. Maybe Calatayud, maybe Saldaña. Saldaña, yeah, he needs to be the one. Asking even more of another teenager. Barron scribbled a note on his pad, ensuring he would mention something to Dayán later when the assistant coach came back from a morning spent scouting local schools.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Arturo Robaina burst in, wrapped only in a towel. Robaina was still injured, and must have been working with the trainer, but why was he …

“Sir David, come quick! You must come!”

The Next Day. Part 2. September 28, 2009.

Barron was up and out of his chair, and following the young captain down the tunnel towards the field in an instant. “What is going on, Arturo?” He feared the worst–once, at a field in Tennessee, he responded to a similarly panicked call from a player, only to find his goalkeeper on the ground in a gruesome heap, his shinbone poking through his skin at a horrific angle.

When he emerged into the later morning light, he saw a crowd of players gathered at the edge of the field, and he began to run to see who they were gathered around. As he arrived, they parted, revealing … nothing? He looked around, and saw the look of terror on the faces of a few, then, further off, Wondolowski and Westerman standing with their arms crossed, shaking their heads.

“What’s going on here?”

Wondolowski snorted. “Nothing, coach. Just stupid superstition.”

He turned to the group. “Hayden? Eusebio? Ian?” Saldaña stepped forward–yes, he was clearly the choice to captain the back line–and pointed to the ground. Barron looked more closely, and saw deep red streaks on the white chalk, and dark, almost black lines on the grass. There were patterns here, he saw crosses and curves, and geometric shapes.

“What the hell?” He began to walk over to it, noticing the smell for the first time. It smelled like the large indoor market down the street, something heavy and thick, and vaguely like a butcher’s back room.

“Sir David, don’t!” came the voices from the group of players. “There’s some serious bad stuff there. Don’t go touching it.”

Westerman spat loudly, and Barron turned back. “Bad stuff? What do you mean?” Silence. Westerman spat again. “It’s that voodoo ********, coach. Someone came in, killed a bird or two, and smeared its blood all over the place. Now these ****ers won’t go near it.”

“Don’t you go talking about things you don’t know.” It was Saldaña, evidently having been elected spokesperson for the other group.

“I’ll say whatever the hell I want. Just a bunch of chicken blood and stories to scare little kids. Ignorant pricks.”

“Say that again.” Saldaña moved until he was chest to chest with Westerman .. or, chest to nose, since Eusebio was four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier than Craig. Westerman wasn’t about to back down, though, and Barron could see the anger in the eyes of both young men. This was clearly in danger of becoming a brawl. Sometimes, that was OK, especially during a losing streak like we were on, but this wasn’t the way to do it–not with a division along such clear lines of race and belief.

Barron stepped between the two players. “OK, Eusebio, take the boys down to the other end and run the drills there. Arturo, get dressed and come see me. Westerman, Wondolowski, both of you, come with me.” Saldaña looked at him harshly, and turned away.

“Now, Eusebio.”

“OK, allez, allez.” He was hesitant, however, and Barron was struck by how quickly trust can deteriorate, how the assumption that he was siding against them and with Wondolowski and Westerman–both white, both of foreign descent (although both Haitian citizens). “Go.” His voice was firm, and he turned to walk off the field. Westerman and Wondolowski fell in behind, a slight strut to their step betraying their belief that they were in the clear, with Robaina trailing behind, looking from the coach to his teammates moving slowly to the far end of the pitch, torn in his loyalties.

Barron was silent until he was back in my office with the two men.

“Both of you, sit down.” They were taken back with his tone of voice, harsh and unyielding. “You just screwed yourselves. Both of you.”

Westerman’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Kevin managed to sputter, “What? Coach, you can’t believe that crap?”

“Makes no difference if I believe it or not. You’re a team, and you just cut yourself off from the 25 other players here. Look, you’re both hard working kids, but it’s not like you’re setting the world on fire. Working hard, being a good teammate, it’s the only way you’ll get on the field. Get out of here–take the rest of the day off. And if you aren’t ready to grow up, don’t come back tomorrow.” They looked at each other, clearly in shock. “Go. Now.” I put my head down, pretending to study my notes from the film session this morning, and heard them slowly leave.

Shortly afterwards, Arturo came in, dressed in slacks and a button down shirt, as usual. He had questions in his eyes, having clearly passed the other two as they walked out. “Don’t worry about it, Arturo. We’ll see if they play for us again, though.” His eyes lit up, and he nodded slowly, clearly surprised by the implication. “Right now, though, I need you to go get Coach Dayán. I think he is at St. Mark’s.”

Arturo nodded, and left quickly.

There wasn’t much else to do, so Barron busied himself with the sandwich Luísa had made, and was just finishing when Arturo returned, followed closely by the shining bald head of the assistant coach, Dayán Campbell.

“Thank you Arturo. That’s it. Please go out to the field, and tell the boys … well, tell them to take the rest of the day off, and that I expect them all here tomorrow at 10 to go over our tactics for the Lakers game.”

He nodded, and left. As soon as the door closed, Dayán turned to me. “What did you do with those two? Arturo said they were almost in tears when he saw them.” Barron waved his hand. “We have other things to figure out. I assume he told you about … ” Barron stumbled for words, and gestured vaguely towards the field. “About ... that?”

Campbell nodded. “What the hell do we do?” The darker man shook his head. “Nothing we can do, except find someone to take it away.”

“You mean, clean it up? We can get the ground staff to–”

“No, to take it away. The bad things have to be removed. And … well, you know the boys that believe in that, the ones who were raised in the old traditions, they aren’t the ones most scared of it. It’s the Catholic boys, the ones who think the devil is involved, that will be most concerned.”

“Wait … you want me to get a priest in here?”

Campbell smiled. We had been out drinking often enough that he knew of my distaste for the church.

“Dayán, what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

He laughed. “I’ll take care of it today. But it will only be a temporary fix. After the game against TC, we’ll need to do something else. And, we need to find out who did it.”

Barron was silent and stared at his assistant coach for a long time. “OK. Just take care of it. I’m … I’m going home for the rest of the day as well. They’ll be willing to go on the field tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Barron nodded, then got up and grabbed his jacket, and walked out, leaving Campbell alone in the office, an enigmatic grin on his face.

From Levi McKinnon's Diary, September 29, 2009.

Glad I’m not a goalkeeper for us.

Ronnie Pascale, our clear #1, went down with a torn hamstring, and is out for at least five months. Then Luke Glazer turned his ankle in practice, and will miss the next few months, too. Rafael Palacios just ****ed me off too much with his childish temper tantrums, and is on his way out. That leaves Arturo Vázquez and the new kid we picked up earlier in the month, Julien Latendresse-Lévesque (say that three times fast), both under twenty, both with some talent, but neither of whom are really up for the task.

Luckily, we have some great, hardworking scouts. We found Andrew Kartunen and Jordan James, both out of club. They came in last week on trial, and I recommended that we sign both of them. If we do, Glazer and Palacios may both have spent their last days in a Comets uniform, and we may have an insurance policy until the kids grow up.

And with that, it's time for the End of September Update.

Terry Langford's Diary, October 1, 2009.

If I am totally honest, I must admit that this really isn’t going well.

I’ve been trying to ease them into the system, but it just isn’t working. I still remain committed to it, and I know it can work. If I’m going to go down, though, it will be on fire–so today we are going to go full out. More movement, more roaming, more responsibility, more attacking chaos.

I had written Bielsas when I first got here, and he sent me some ideas to implement. Looks like those years in Chile may not have been a total waste.

Have to take the long view–if it doesn’t work here, it will somewhere else.

Liveblog: Imposter's Cup Semifinal, Real Madrid v. Chelsea

The Imposter’s Cup has gotten down to the nitty gritty: in the other semifinal, Manchester United takes on Olympiakos; here it is Real Madrid hosting Chelsea at Santiago Bernabéu. Real Madrid comes in a slight favorite, but will be missing Pepe to suspension and Xabi Alonso to a pulled hamstring; Chelsea, however, will have second string players in the center of its defense, as both John Terry and Ricardo Carvalho are out with injury.

The Blues may be buoyed, however, by the return to action of Didier Drogba. Drogba won’t start, but he is listed among the substitutes, and I would expect to see him on the pitch at some point. Nicolas Anelka moves up front, and new Chelsea man Simon Vukcevic starts on the right wing. At the back, Alex–who is playing very well so far this year–starts in the middle along with Branislav Ivanovic, with Paulo Ferreira making his first start in return from a long-term injury on the right side.

Tactically, this should be interesting. Real Madrid lines up with four attacking players, but no true midfielders, depending on Albiol, Diarra, and to a lesser extent Sculli to bridge between the defense and Cristiano Ronaldo, Raúl, and Higuaín up front. Chelsea’s should be able to control the middle of the pitch with Essien, Lampard, and De Rossi, but will need strong play from their wings and Anelka to find the net.

0:24. Real Madrid starts with a bang, as Gonzalo Higuaín latches onto a long pass and forces Cech to make a diving save under a minute into the match. The fans love it, and the roar in the stadium is deafening for the home side.

11:57. Real Madrid is totally dominating possession, but most of it is in their own half–they seem happy to knock the ball around the back, looking for an opening. So far, there have been a few shots from deep, but no real danger past the halfway line.

14:27. A silly foul by Marcelo gives Chelsea a freekick from just outside the box on the right hand side. Zhirkov comes over to take the kick, with six men in the box. It comes to naught, however, and we are back to banging the ball between Albiol, Metzelder, and Casillas. This time, it turns into a chance, though, with Marcelo getting a shot off inside the box that is easily handled by Cech.

16:30. Cech’s clearance to Ferreira frees up the right back for a run to midfield, where he finds Vukcevic ahead with space, but the winger’s first touch fails him, and the ball rolls out of bounds for a goal kick.

18:02. A lovely counter-attack from the Blues, where Anelka cuts outside, finds Vukcevic, who leaves it for a shot from Daniele De Rossi from the edge of the box that curves wide.

20:58. It is end to end action here–a lovely move by Madrid results in a Ronaldo header that Cech handles. His outlet is taken by Zhirkov all the way down the left touchline, but his cross is well defended. Chelsea gets the ball back, however, and De Rossi serves a lovely long pass along the ground to Anelka running parallel to the box, who finds a streaking Simon Vukcevic dashing in from the wing. Vukcevic is three steps clear of the trailing Marcelo, and he passes the ball between Casillas and the near post. Chelsea scores! It’s Vukcevic’s first goal for the Blues! What a moment! 1-0 Chelsea.

Interestingly, the statistics would indicate that this was against the run of play–Real Madrid has outshot Chelsea 10-2, and has dominated possession by a 3-1 margin. However, their possession has been largely defensive, and their shots quite wasteful.

27:28. This is where Real Madrid’s gameplan may succeed: in a flash, Ronaldo has the ball on the right flank, and ducks into the box with space to operate. Alex closes him down quickly, and both players go to ground. The referee calls a foul on Ronaldo, but that really could have gone either way: plenty of shirt-tugging on both sides.

31:28. Madrid look very vulnerable down the right side, where Ferreira and Vukcevic are beating Marcelo with regularity. On the other side of the pitch, Sergio Ramos is doing a much better job controlling Zhirkov.

33:15. Lampard has a go from 40 yards out and hits the woodwork–unlucky there.

35:11. Another brilliant move by Ronaldo where he blows by three Chelsea defenders and wins a corner.

38:02. A Chelsea corner finds De Rossi unmarked in the box, but Casillas is up to the shot, and the scramble is controlled by Real Madrid.

42:44. Metzelder and Essien trade headers over the bar from corner kicks.

At halftime, we’re very close. When Chelsea have gotten the ball, they’ve been quite dangerous, and I would expect Lampard to have an impact on the game if he is continued the amount of free space in the attacking half. But it would be a surprise to me if Cech were able to keep a clean sheet for another 45 minutes.

The teams return unchanged at half time.

45:52. A foul by Alex on Higuaín gives Ronaldo a free kick from just oustside the box, in the middle of the field. This is dangerous for Chelsea. Raúl takes it, however, and blasts it straight into the wall.

48:05. Another free kick, even closer to the edge of the box, this time a result of the first yellow card of the game when Ivanovic pulls down Higuaín. Garay takes this one, and he scores! Low and just inside the post, nothing Cech could do there. 1-1 Real Madrid as we draw level.

56:33. Sergio Ramos draws a yellow card for a late tackle on Zhirkov. More importantly, Drogba is warming up.

61:32. Zhirkov carries down the left side, and serves a cross in side the box, where Essien flicks it on to Lampard whose header bounces off the bar, and back into play, but Lassana Diarra is the first two it, and heads it out for a corner. Drogba comes in for Anelka in a straight swap of strikers.

64:45. Essien picks up a card for a ticky-tack foul. That was dubious.

71:10. Michael Ballack comes in for Daniele De Rossi. Look for Ballack to take up a more creative role, with Essien dropping back to be the holding midfield player. Real Madrid has yet to make a substitution: are they saving theirs for the extra time?

74:10. Metzelder is replaced by Alvaro Arbeloa.

84:30. Ruud van Nistelrooy and Karim Benzema come on for Real Madrid, replacing Raúl and Giuseppe Sculli.

87:40. Cech has to come out quickly to cut off van Nistelrooy on a breakaway, but he does, and we look destined for extra time.

90:15. Solomon Kalou comes in for a clearly gassed Frank Lampard. This is it: these 22 players will decide this. Chelsea has a corner.

90:33. Marcelo picks up a yellow. Many players are clearly fatigued out there–this is a test of endurance right now.

93:08. Higuaín finds van Nistelrooy with a gorgeous cross just inside the six yard box, but the header is off target. That’s the best chance of the match since halftime.

98:28. Another yellow card, this one on Diarra. That means that if Madrid go on, he will miss the Final. Perhaps more importantly, Zhirkov is having to leave the pitch to receive treatment, putting Chelsea a man down temporarily.

100:13. Zhirkov is back on, but the story is Karim Benzema, who twice forces Cech to a full stretch. Both shots are parried away, however, and we are still on even terms.

102:04. Drogba gets the ball at midfield, turns, and beats his man. He’s in the clear and sprinting towards goal, but the defenders recover, and force him to lay the ball to Kalou, whose cross is wasted.

105:00. Fifteen minutes to go in this war of attrition.

110:09. Higuaín goes down in the box, and the referee has no hesitation, pointing to the spot! Alex is called for the trip, and van Nistelrooy steps up to the penalty spot, with a chance to take Madrid into the finals! Cech, who has been magnificent all day, dives the right way, but is beaten, and it’s good! Chelsea boss Danyil Oranje is irate on the sideline–he clearly feels that was a bad call. Real Madrid 2-1.

Chelsea throws everyone forward, but they cannot break through, and Madrid are through! An excellent game!

Goals from Ji-Sung Park, Danny Welbeck, and Michael Carrick led Manchester United to a 3-0 win, setting up a showdown between them and Real Madrid in the final.

RASS Updated: St. George Falls

Despite constant offensive pressure, St. George could not find the net against Al-Khaleej, who knock out the Ethiopian side 2-1 on aggregate after the scoreless draw at Addis Ababa. With St. George’s loss, no African sides remain in the competition.

With the final not scheduled until April & May of 2010, there is plenty of football left to play in the premiere competition of the Middle East.

Looking back, I remember how little I wrote in the Fall (game time). Whoops. The contrast to what I've been writing after I began to post here is startling--there are dozens of posts waiting from December on that I like quite a bit. I think part of it has been knowing that they would, eventually, see the light of day for eyes other than mine. So, for those of you that are muddling along these beginning months, thank you.

We're already up to the end of October update.

Opening Day in the EPR

Eight matches marked opening day in the Ethiopian Premiere League!

Saint George defeated Banks SC 2-0 with goals from Mohammed Abera and Bereket Addisu, while Dire Dawa City topped Defence SC 2-1 on a 2nd half strike from Tewfik Hussein. Awassa, Muger Cement, and Sebeta City were also winners on opening day in what promises, as usual, to be a fascinating race for 2nd place behind clear favorites Saint George.

V were dealt a blow, however, with an injury to towering centerback Samson Mulugeta. The extent of the injury is unknown, but it does draw extra attention to the Addis Ababa side’s attempt to sign Mulalem Tessema away from Trans Ethiopia. Originally viewed as an insurance policy, Tessema may–if he makes the jump to St. George–play a major role in the title contender’s future.