PMSimon.com

We were in Ralphs when Italy won the World Cup. We had to grab lunch and do food shopping; because of my work schedule, it was the only time available, so soccer had to yield. I watched the first half on TV, and we listened to some of the second half on XM. We were in a restaurant when Zidane head-butted his way out of the game- I overheard a waiter tell another waiter about someone getting a red card, but only after getting back in the car did I find out who it was. For penalty kicks, we were pushing a cart down the produce aisle. By the time we got back to the car, the announcer was having an aneurysm and the little screen on the receiver said Italy had won.

This time around, we noted a lot more interest in the Cup. While the waiters at the restaurant were keeping an eye on the game by the register, we saw one vendor at the Farmer's Market outside watching a pocket portable TV while the Spanish-lanugage commentary from Univision echoed across the parking lot from multiple booths. People I know who never, ever talk about soccer were asking me what I thought about France's chances, what I thought about the referees and about Italy's troubles back home, about individual players. I don't remember this interest from non-immigrants in America in the past, not even when they played the games here.

The quality of the games helped. There were plenty of matches that illustrated how interesting and exciting a 1-1 game can be, how a sport can be fun and watchable even without the scoreboard ringing up goals every few seconds. It was a great advertisement for soccer...

...but I still don't see it making pro soccer huge in America. In fact, it kinda put U.S. soccer- the national team and the MLS- to shame. Besides the disappointing performance of Bruce Arena's squad, it was a reminder that compared to European and Latin American leagues, the MLS is decidedly minor league. When you buy a ticket to a major league baseball or an NFL or an NBA game, you know you're watching, if not the best at what they do, among the very best athletes in each sport, probably THE best. MLS is more like the WNBA. It may be entertaining on its own level, but you know you're not watching Chelsea or Real Madrid out there. And even the team names reinforce the phoniness: F.C. Dallas and the upcoming Toronto F.C. use the F.C. name despite our not using the term "football" for the sport (so what does it stand for? Fake?). Houston Dynamo? Not Moscow. Chivas U.S.A. ain't the real Chivas, and the fans know it. And whoever thought "Real Salt Lake" was a good idea probably sees nothing humorous in the name "Utah Jazz," either. Fake names for minor league soccer. If we had a Premiere League-level and these teams were merely the lower division clubs aspiring to climb the ranks, okay, but this is the best we have, and it's not good enough.

In New York, they've opened the documentary about the days of the Cosmos- it comes here next week, and I'm looking forward to it. I went to most Cosmos games when they moved to the Meadowlands, and, back then, while you knew you were watching guys at the tail-end of their career, you were watching Pele- THE Pele!- and Chinaglia and Beckenbauer and Carlos Alberto and so many other familiar names that you knew you were getting your money's worth. Of course, it led the rest of the league into financial ruin as too many teams plus too little cash plus inflated salaries plus not enough TV money equaled disaster, but it was soccer's main chance to break through. I miss those days, actually. It was a blast while it lasted. But now we're stuck with a league full of teams that just aren't good enough and just aren't any fun. It's decidedly the bushes, at major league prices. Thanks, but I'll stick to baseball right now.

 Share

The weekend didn't, evidently, provide the kind of renewed energy I need to be motivated, coherent, a not-so-lean, occasionally mean writing machine. Today's column at All Access and the several zillion news items I had to write came out like impacted wisdom teeth. If staring blankly at the monitor constitutes working, I'm working my ass off.

I think this week may require some scans and video stills. We'll see.

 Share

Back to the scans. In honor of the All-Star Game (nice closing job, Trevor), here are some items off my shelf, from back when the Sporting News meant something and the Baseball Guide and Dope Book were the bibles of the Bible of Baseball.

First, the Guide:

The Guides were compact, thick, filled with stats for every team in the majors and each league in the minors. The worst hitter in the lowest minors? In here. You could look up the 1971 Pioneer League stats- Rookie classification- and see that the top 10 hitters never made it to the bigs, except for the ninth best hitter, some guy named George Brett who hit .291 for Billings. Going through the low minors, it's amazing how many guys play in the pros but never make it, and how well you have to perform down there to even become a mediocre major leaguer- the top 10 hitters in various leagues include such future major league non-stars as Dane Iorg, Al Bumbry, Rowland Office, Mike Cubbage. Bobby Cox was managing Fort Lauderdale in the Class A Florida State League back then, and the notes say he lived in the clubhouse and slept on a cot at the ballpark. A guy named Jorge Orta led the Mexican Center League in hitting in 1971; by 1972, he reached the majors with the White Sox and lasted to 1987. The California League top 10 had a few more future major leaguers, like George Theodore (the Stork!), Steve Ontiveros (the 70s third baseman, not the 90s pitcher), Johnny Grubb, Jim Wohlford, Bake McBride. And, with relevance to tonight's game, the Dixie-Texas League top 10 included a guy who made the majors in '72, Gary Matthews- his son was on the AL squad tonight.

I could browse through that stuff all night. (I'd scan some more for you, but the perfect-bound pages don't take to bending enough for a clear scan, and the type's way small...)

And for things like stadium seating charts and All-Star stats and detailed descriptions- no pictures, just words- of team caps and uniforms, there was this:

That's a portrait of the Hammer by official Braves graphic artist Wayland Moore on the cover. Moore was the guy to blame for that uniform. (It seemed so modern and forward-looking at the time...)

I loved those guides. The Baseball America Directory and Almanac do a decent job, but there's nothing quite like the guide, quite like the feeling when the new ones came out in late Winter-early Spring and you'd send your money and wait for that little thick brown envelope and the fresh start to a new baseball season. It's not the same now, but neither is baseball, or much else, for that matter.

 Share

After a couple of week's hiatus, I got around to doing another newsletter for All Access. Here's all I could come up with:

Yeah, I took a little break from The Letter for the last couple of weeks. I'd intended to just take last week off to celebrate the national holiday (my birthday on the 5th, of course. What? There was another holiday that week? Which one?) but when I sat down to write the previous week's missive, I had... nothing. The well was dry. The tank was empty. Insert your own clichi here. Couldn't do it. Blank page. So I gave up and figured that after over a year of writing one of these every week, I deserved a couple of weeks to recharge the batteries. And now I've been recharging for two weeks and I still got nothin'.

Next week: probably some wise words about working with others. Or more filler. Depends on the weather.

 Share

What if a government agency made a ruling that was one way for the entire country except for one single city, which they decided would have a different rule, yet refused to explain or discuss exactly WHY they did that?

That's exactly what the FCC did today, ruling that as a condition of the Time Warner/Comcast purchase of Adelphia, the companies would have to allow any regional sports cable networks they own to be available to all competitors, including cable systems, DirecTV, Dish Network and Verizon FIOS. This ruling is intended to prevent the cable companies from withholding key sports programming and thus preventing effective competition. And it's now the law everywhere...

... except Philadelphia.

Why?

Don't ask the FCC. It doesn't have an answer, and apparently it doesn't feel the need to HAVE one.

The upshot of this ruling is this: ONLY Philadelphia fans (and San Diego, actually, but that's the result of a different deal) are prevented from choosing someone other than Comcast for television service that includes Phillies, Flyers, and Sixers games. Among fans who live outside the team's home market, ONLY Philadelphia fans are prevented from subscribing to their regional sports network. Comcast is taking advantage of a loophole- Comcast SportsNet Philadelphia is not distributed by satellite to cable systems- and the Adelphia deal was the golden chance for the FCC to remedy this inequity.

They did remedy the problem for everyone EXCEPT PHILADELPHIA. And they gave NO REASON- not in the comments, not in the Open Meeting, NEVER- for their specific exemption of Philadelphia. Comcast's Brian Roberts made the exemption a dealbreaker, and they went along with it. Why? Why is the owner of a cable giant dictating terms to the FCC? And how did he get the Commissioners to go along with it?

Use your imagination.

So far this year, the FCC has made an illogical, rationale-free attack on free speech with the indecency regulations, and now it's told the consumers of Philadelphia to F themselves because as far as the FCC's concerned, Brian Roberts owns them.

And there's nothing Philadelphians, or expatriates wanting to see the Phillies (I know, who'd want to see THAT?), can do about it.

And the FCC doesn't have to answer to anyone, except maybe to people for whom they may work in the future.

Kevin Martin should be ashamed of himself, but I'm sure he isn't.

 Share

The campaign to scan and post ephemera that nobody else has thought to put on the Internet continues with a program I found on my shelf days after the World Cup final. From 1977, here's a game program from the old American Soccer League:

How about that 'fro and p0rn 'stache on that cartoon player? And the plain white Adidas sans cleats? Guy's stylin'.

Now, that's not the NORTH American Soccer League, the one with the Cosmos and Pele and Chinaglia and crowds and teams in big stadia in big cities. The American Soccer League was a minor league that at times seemed to have major league pretentions, including getting a celebrity "Commissioner":

He doesn't look happy to be there, does he? I remembered that he was briefly the Commissioner, but I bet he doesn't remember it himself.

Then, there was this guy, a kid named John Bluem, honored in the program as Player of the Week:

My curiosity got the best of me and I Googled him- and, lo and behold, click here and you'll see what he's up to now. Not bad. But no mention of his ASL stint.

The Americans that season turned out pretty well, too- they won the league championship, although the league itself lost the Santa Barbara franchise halfway through the season. The Americans moved to Miami for the 1980 season, and the league, which lasted for 51 years (!), staggered to a close after the 1983 season, with some teams surviving in the United Soccer League, which lives on today.

Well, nobody else was gonna put this stuff up.

 Share

Maybe there's something to this global warming thing.

It's hot out here. I know, it's hotter where you are, and way more humid, too, but there's not much of an ocean breeze at the moment and the sun's been baking us all day. We ran our errands around Torrance where it's just far enough inland to feel about 100 degrees hotter, and the moment we opened the car doors, it was convection oven time.

And our house doesn't have A/C.

Last night was OK with the windows open, until the skunk showed up and Fran closed the window. Tonight, we may just have to go to the movies to get some decent A/C going. Don't WANT to see anything in the theaters yet, but I'll even see "The Devil Wears Some Hoity-Toity Designer," a movie about an Anna Wintour clone, a movie made for people without a scintilla of testosterone, if it'll provide a steady flow of 68 degree air.

A desperate measure for a desperate time.

 Share