Brace yourselves because I am about to turn your sporting world on its ear. As a country, the U.S. is absolutely horrible at the sport we stubbornly continue to call soccer while the rest of the world calls it football. We are simply not good. In fact, we suck. There is just no getting around it. It is time to come to grips with our mediocrity and accept it for what it is. True, we managed to win another Gold Cup trophy over the weekend by beating our pesky nemesis to the south. However, as we sip bubbly while celebrating our standing as the top team in the formidable CONCACAF – a region that includes such footballing heavyweights as Honduras, Jamaica, Guatemala, Panama and El Salvador – I still can’t shake the lingering sense of disappointment with our USMNT (U.S. Men’s National Team) that has hung over my head for years now.

We suck. Bottom line. I saw this firsthand in Germany during last year’s World Cup, and everything that I have witnessed since has only strengthened my conviction. The point is made ever more blatant when I happen to watch a European match in close proximity to a U.S. one. The quality differential is literally night and day. Foreign players are simply more deft with the ball at their feet, more acrobatic in the air, more technically proficient, more thoughtful in space. They are just so much better than us, which really makes me wonder what the hell Alexi Lalas was smoking last week when he came out and said that the MLS is basically on equal footing with the Premiership . As they say in England, bollocks! Speaking of bollocks, and thanks to Wikipedia, I learned that the term, given its versatility, has been referred to as the Swiss Army knife of andrological profanities, and may very well be the most versatile word in the Enlgish language. Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Moving on, I happen to love the take of a journalist at The Daily Mirror (a British tabloid) who made the trek to the states to bravely subject himself to the horrors of an MLS game recently. Here was his impression: “The game was not without moments of quality … (but) some of the defending from both sides was the type of stuff you watch through your fingers. It was the football equivalent of a demolition derby. The use of possession was alarmingly careless and the concept of marking appeared not to have found its way across the Atlantic.” Spot on.

Since I was stateside last week, I was treated to yet another display of soccer mediocrity when I watched the Gold Cup semifinal match between the U.S. and Canada. My long-held suspicion was confirmed yet again during this encounter. In a game that by most accounts should have been a cakewalk, our USMNT barely scraped by with a 2-1 victory. Moreover, the victory was due in large part to a critical blown call at the end that would’ve put the game into overtime. Seriously, that was a terrible call. The Canadians were genuinely robbed. If the referee didn’t have his head up his ass at that precise moment, I’m convinced the Canadians would’ve pulled off the upset. They clearly had the run of play during that last 30 minutes of the game and deserved to play in the final against Mexico.

In any event, I have a few observations from the game. First, Landon Donovan is the most overrated player in the history of professional soccer. Maybe I’m being harsh here, but the guy is absolutely brutal. Everytime I subject myself to watching a game, I routinely yell profanities to the sky lamenting the mere existence of Donovan. The guy doesn’t have an inkling of creativity to his game, and I’m convinced he lacks the ability to move laterally. His game is all about running straight ahead and trying to do so harder and faster than anyone else. As they say in American football, he is a north-south runner. He tries to beat people with speed, not with ability. I have never seen him beat someone one-on-one with a legitimate move that did not involve kicking the ball past the defender and trying to race him to it. Plus, the guy blows more wide open chances than anyone on earth. This particular game provided us with yet another dazzling display of soccer finesse courtesy of Mr. Donovan. Ugh!!! He might be the least dangerous striker in the international arena. He’s seriously a guy that the other team is probably happy to have shoot the ball because there is a very high chance he will completely ruin any scoring chance that was developing. The fact that he is approaching the USMNT record for career goals is simply a testament to longevity and being in the right place at the right time more than talent and ability. It also helps that he gets to take the penalties for the squad. Note that his four goals in the Gold Cup all came from PKs. Also, how many times did he send balls into space that appeared to be meant for no one? The guy turns the ball over 80% of the time he touches it. He’s my Rex Grossman.

Speaking of PKs, there should be a rule that limits the celebrations that follow PK goals. These are basically gimme goals, so you shouldn’t be allowed to pat yourself on the back too much for converting what you damn well better convert. Granted, goalkeepers sometimes guess right and can make a nice save, but the advantage is clearly on the side of the shooter. Watching Donovan prance around after his Canada conversion made me throw up in my mouth.

On to my second observation – Frankie Heyduk is an animal. That guy has a motor. He just doesn’t stop running, doesn’t stop fighting, doesn’t stop trying. He’s one of those guys that you love to have on your team but hate practicing against. He knows only two speeds – fast and faster. His goal against Canada was a mighty fine strike that came out of nowhere. He also appears to be running around in a clueless fit of panic at times, and his touch can be quite excruciating, but I’ve come around on him. It has taken me several years, but I’m now a Frankie fan.

Third, the Eddie Johnson ship has sailed. After exploding onto the USMNT scene during qualifying for last year’s World Cup, he proceeded to lay an egg in Germany and hasn’t reached any noteworthy form since. In watching his performance against Canada, I noticed that he is yet another north-south player that lacks anything in the way of creativity. He relies on his speed to get as close to the goal as possible so that there is little room for error when it comes to execution. And someone needs to teach him the rules pertaining to offsides. He had to have been called offsides at least 10 times against Canada. Check out some Eddie Johnson highlights and you’ll see that most of his goals are very straightforward, anticlimactic events. He races ahead and tries to beat others to the ball, living off of the service provided by his teammates. In theory, that’s the primary objective of a striker. However, it would be nice to see him create his own opportunities every once in a while. Watch his highlights and let me know if you see anything inspirational or creative. He’s done. By way of comparison, check out Brazil’s Adriano in action to gain an appreciation for what a real striker looks like.

We have no real scoring threat, no technical edge, no confidence on the ball, no touch on our passes and no physical edge beyond Onyewu in the back. We suck.

So now we move on to Copa America, which is South America’s version of the Euros. For some strange reason, we have decided to throw in the towel and bring our JV squad to match wits against some of the best soccer talent on the planet. Our latest homegrown coaching mastermind decided to blow our load on the much weaker Gold Cup rather than send our real team to tussle with real opponents. Granted, Brazil decided to give Ronaldino and Kaka some rest, but they could arguably field their C-team and still be considered a top-10 team globally. Maybe Bradley simply knew we’d get destroyed and decided to save face by sending our B-team so he could fall back on the inexperience of the squad to justify the blowouts. Who knows…

The first game for the Americans is against Argentina, a squad that features players from such vaunted clubs as Boca Juniors, River Plate, FC Porto, Inter Milan (4 players), Barcelona, Manchester United and Real Madrid. Looking across the pitch at the likes of Messi, Heinze, Crespo, Tevez and Riquelme (who might be the most brilliant midfielder in the game today) would strike fear into any team’s heart, especially one comprised of youngsters from such powerhouses as DC United, Chivas USA, Columbus Crew and FC Dallas. 15 out of the 22 U.S. roster spots were given to MLS players, and the Europe-based players tend to come from obscure clubs like Aalborg BK in Denmark and Hammarby IF in Sweden. No Donovan (though I hate him), Onyewu, Beasley, or Heyduk. Three of our players have zero national team caps (games played) and more than half (12 out of 22) have five games or less under their belts. 15 players have less than 10 caps. We have a collective total of 263 caps and 26 goals. The Argentine squad has a collective total of 658 caps and 85 goals. We’re screwed.

On a brighter note, the television ratings for the Gold Cup final were 41% higher than the Stanley Cup finals. Woohoo!!

One final soccer note. For those of you looking for a good soccer blog, check out theoffside.com. It’s got some pretty good running commentary on all things soccer and the clips are quite good.

Not that it should come as much of a surprise, but Lizzi and I got engaged yesterday. I proposed to her at sunset here at the beautiful Ritz Carlton Laguna Niguel. Check out my Kodak gallery to the right for photos of the event. We’ll savor this for a few days then move on to the wedding planning phase, which will no doubt present its fair share of logistical challenges given our shuttles between Tokyo and Chicago. Nonetheless, I’m sure we’ll have great fun putting it all together. I’ll be back in Chicago in late July, so I hope to celebrate accordingly with many of you then. In the meantime, cheers!

So I’ve been struggling for the better part of six months to learn Japanese. This, my friends, is a difficult enough task if one were to try it on a full-time basis. With me giving it my part-time attention – I usually have a tutor 2-3x per week for one hour at a pop – the challenge feels monumental in scope. The Japanese language is by no means straightforward and intuitive. In fact, it is ridiculously counterintuitive, which leads to periodic bouts of maddening frustration. Attempting to learn it on a part-time basis is akin to pulling an Andy Dufrane and slowly, methodically chipping your way through the concrete walls to make your way out of Shawshank. Throughout my language lessons over the past six months, I have periodically (and literally) thrown my hands up in the air in complete and utter frustration, and have wondered aloud if the Japanese purposely made the language super difficult just for the fun of it. It almost seems like these people were sitting around and wondering how they could possibly make up a language that refused to follow any sort of convention that would lend itself to pattern recognition.

So, after the above venting, I wanted to walk you through the following examples to help you feel some of my pain. Kanji is always the best place to start because it is often the most misunderstood by non-Japanese.

- this means “ni”, or sun; note that there is another “ni” which means 2, which has its own separate kanji.

- this means “hon”, or source.

- you combine the above two kanji and you get “nihon”, which means “where the sun begins”, or as we call it “the land of the rising sun”, or Japan.

Seems easy enough, right? Well, in the words of Lee Corso, “not so fast my friend”! Most of the kanji characters are way more complex, and counterintuitive, than this simple illustration. Most people think that because the alphabet is supposed to resemble a pictograph of sorts, that you should be able to put things together and draw your own mental image of the message the character is supposed to convey. The following example should set you straight. Get ready because I’m about to blow your mind!

The above kanji means “ai” or love. Now can you look at that and ever in your life guess that the above has anything to do with love? Note that there are 13 strokes in this character. 13! It’s really quite ridiculous. The hiragana spelling at the bottom is much more straightforward, showing the letters “a” and “i” to spell “ai”, but they go off and use kanji and screw everything up.

Remember that there are three alphabets in Japanese: 1) hiragana; 2) katakana (which basically takes Western words and turns them into Japanese words); and 3) kanji. Hiragana is what you need to read the basics (street signs, store signs, etc.); it is used as the base of everything. Katakana is what you need to read a menu because they are taking words like “beer” and turning them into “biiru”.

Then, there’s the counting convention, which is convoluted enough to drive any otherwise sane person mad. English is so much more manageable in this regard. When we count things in English, we simply assign one, two, three, etc. to sort it out. There are two books. There are two lions. Simple enough. Well, in Japanese, you have to stop and think about the size and shape of what you are counting. There are different ways to count people; animals and fish; books, magazines and other bound publications; round, slender objects like poles or chopsticks; flat things such as pieces of paper; and cups or glasses of liquid.

So let’s do an exercise to illustrate this madness at work. Let’s count two people, two books, two animals, two poles, two pieces of paper and two glasses of something. Remember that the below is simply the counting convention and does not include the word for the reference object.

Two people = futari
Two books = nisatsu
Two animals = nihiki
Two poles = nihon (which, as we learned above, also means Japan)
Two pieces of paper = nimai
Two glasses of something = nihai

Don’t even try to think about the Japanese equivalent of “first”, “second”, “third”, etc. That’s a whole new ball of wax.

Another interesting observation. The Japanese refer to the sun as red in color. Despite the fact that they indeed see it as yellow (i.e. they are not colorblind), they call it red because that is what has been drilled into their heads. As you know with the flag, the sun is red for some strange reason. So everyone is taught that the sun should be drawn and considered red. If you visit an elementary school, you’ll notice that all of the kids’ drawings have the sun colored red. Weird.

Here’s another one. The Japanese often refer to green-colored objects as blue. Green lights are called blue, despite the fact that they are clearly green. Green apples are called blue apples. Don’t ask me why. This is just one of many inexplicable oddities I encounter on a daily basis.

Check out this video of President Bush greeting a mob of adoring fans outside of a coffeeshop in Albania. Three things strike me as interesting here. First, I can’t believe Bush actually has friends in the world, and in Europe of all places! Throw on top of that the fact that Albania is a predominantly muslim country (70%) and I’m flummoxed. Apparently, the Albanians are thankful to the U.S. for its support in ousting Milosevic and advocating independence for Kosovo, whose population is majority ethnic Albanian. Bush has got to eat this stuff up. As the video shows, he was treated like a rock star, which must be a strange feeling for a president with a 32% approval rating back home. Second, if it turns out that his watch was stolen (it clearly looks that way), whoever pulled this off has got to get massive props for doing so. What a ballsy move. I can’t wait for this thing to show up on Ebay, even if it is just a $50 Timex. Third, if the watch was indeed stolen, it pains me to see the denial machine within the administration doing its dirty work yet again. Seriously, what’s wrong with admitting that the watch was stolen? This admininstration lives in a constant state of denial and is constantly running misdirections on the American people, even when it comes to silly little nonevents like this one. Just a shame.

This is one of the most interesting ideas I’ve come across in a long while. Read this story and try to develop a mental picture of the concept at work. Talk about really screwing with their minds! Wow. Who thinks of this stuff? I’m convinced that the government has commissioned a group of stoners to sit around and think of new weapon ideas. My guess is that this was lifted straight out of The Onion and someone mistakenly took it as serious journalism. If not, I’m at once horrified and amazed at the ingenuity of our military masterminds.

With all of the injustice in the world, it’s nice when things happen to bring things back into harmony, even if just for a brief moment. The decision to send a pouting Paris Hilton back to jail to serve the remainder of her sentence behind bars rather than in the lap of her luxurious home was a mighty fine one. Even if it runs counter to what is normally done in similar circumstances, I think it’s great that this judge is doing what 99% of the world’s population would do if they were in his shoes. He’s trying to teach this little socialite a lesson and, despite her proclamations to the contrary, she can’t handle it. She tried to convince everyone that she would take it and prove that she was strong. Instead she responded like the little spoiled brat that she is and threw a hissy fit when she realized that maybe it won’t be as easy as she expected. Instead of sucking it up and dealing with the ridiculously light sentence, which most of us would do in this situation, she responds with a temper tantrum. Typical. She’s getting exactly what she deserves. My guess is she doesn’t learn a thing from this and continues on her path of profligate self-indulgence, world be damned. Alright. Enough ink has been wasted on this nonsense. I just wanted to enjoy this moment of poetic justice.

Having called Tokyo home for a good six months now, I now feel moderately prepared to answer the question that everyone asks when they see or talk to me these days: “So, how is it?”. The high level response is simple. I like it. Tokyo is an amazing, complex and sophisticated city. It’s clean, safe, very stylish and metropolitan, and the food is great. So there you have it. I dig it. Now, as you read on keep that in the back of your mind. The below brainstorm is meant to provide myself a forum to vent – muse may be a better word – on all things Japan. Note, though, that the overarching sentiment is a positive one, even if most of the following observations come off as the spewings of a disgrunteld gaijin.

1. Direction is a foreign concept here. Never in my life have I been in someone’s way more often than in Japan. I thought I had it all figured out initially. Similar to how everyone walks on the right in the States, people generally veer to their left here. However, I wish it were that simple. That rule appears to be the generally accepted walking principle, set as sort of a default; however, more often than not walking down a street is a total free-for-all. People are constantly walking straight at me, despite my very determined effort to walk with the flow on the left-hand side. Better yet, when you make eye contact with the person veering straight at you, that individual is suddenly struck by a momentary bout of complete and utter confusion, leaving them helpless to avoid the coming collision. Left to their own devices, we would no doubt come crashing into one another. It is invariably left to me to avoid such an event, which usually involves me stopping to let that person meander by since I have absolutely no idea which way they would step should I attempt to take them straight on and make a last minute sidestep. That’s the classic move, one I’ve perfected in my many jaunts down major city streets. However, in Japan, the odds are you’ll end up engaging in an embarassing display of city two-step, where you and your counterpart do a little dance side-to-side, not knowing which way to pass until one of you finally just stops and lets the other go by. I just head that off at the pass and stop.

Now imagine this principle at work in the mass of humanity that is the average Tokyo train station. This, my friends, is the closest thing to organized chaos that we can find in the world today. We’re talking thousands upon thousands of people swarming in a directionless, ever-moving blob where the common rule would appear to be every man for himself. If you take a moment to look up (maybe to check your train platform), you are much better served to just stop and look up. If you try to keep walking while doing so, you are guaranteed to crash into someone, which will of course be followed by ridiculously long apologetic displays.

2. On the topic of direction, the taxi driver community in Tokyo is absolutely clueless. It’s really quite amazing. Granted, Tokyo is a huge city, and its address system is really quite silly. For example, most streets (beyond the main thoroughfares) do not have names. In addition, buildings often have an antiquated number system that is based on the age of the building rather than its sequential order based on its location within a street. The combination of these two absurdities makes it very difficult to navigate, which is why many people give directions based on landmarks. In fact, prior to the Internet age, most Tokyo homes had fax machines so that people could fax each other maps showing where things were generally located. Otherwise, it was basically impossible to give someone an exact location of something. All that being said, it still is pretty ridiculous how bad the drivers are here. While they score major politeness points – suits, hats, gloves and all – they are just brutal with directions. Whereas in NYC, Chicago and London, cab drivers are more likely to be total jerks, at least they usually know exactly where they are going. Better yet, they often know the quickest way to get you there. In Tokyo, drivers often meet your request with a confused look and sigh, immediately turning to their trusty GPS system to figure it out. After a good 3 minutes of typing a way, they finally figure it out. Then, as you are making your way, they feel the need to check with you at every crossing to see if you want them to turn right or left. Dude, you have the directions right there on your screen! Just take me already! I once was making my way over to the Park Hyatt Hotel in Shinjuku, which just so happens to be one of the most beautiful and well-known hotels in Tokyo (where Lost in Translation was filmed). Sure as shit, my taxi driver had no idea what I was talking about. And it wasn’t because I didn’t know how to say it. Paruku Hyatt-o Hoteru. Shinjuku desu. He had no clue. He pulled over and checked his city map. Then went to work on the GPS. Then he stopped and asked another taxi for directions. Just brutal. It’s hard to get mad at these guys because they are always so nice. But still…

3. On the topic of traversing the city, the stop lights in Tokyo are annoying as all hell. First of all, there are way too many of them. The concept of the stop sign hasn’t really caught on for some reason. Instead, you’ve got misplaced stop lights that require you to stop for an extended period of time when a quick rolling stop, given the light traffic, would’ve been perfectly sufficient. Plus, you have lights that are basically all programmed the same way. You know how some lights in the U.S. are calibrated to give one side more green light time to accommodate its comparatively higher flow of traffic? Well, they don’t have that in Tokyo. So what you end up with is a really long line of cars from the busy side waiting for ZERO traffic to flow on the other side. Happens all the time. Not to mention the lights are super long. Seriously, seems like an eternity when I’m caught at a red, which basically always happens. My red-to-green capture ratio has to look something like 85/15 here. I’m not kidding.

Speaking of stoplights, one interesting thing to point out is that the Japanese never walk across the street unless the walk sign explicitly tells them to. Even if there is no traffic for miles, most Japanese are totally content to wait for eternity to pass before they dare crossing the street without permission. Meanwhile, I and my other gaijin counterparts routinely walk whenever we find even the slightest break in traffic. Hehe. Good old Americans, always in a hurry!

4. That final thought takes me to my next point. Whereas I always find myself scheming for the quickest way to get something done – whether it’s shopping for groceries, walking to Starbucks or eating – the Japanese take their sweet old time. People stroll down the street here. I’m used to the raceways of Chicago and NYC. Not so in Tokyo. Everyone just makes their way at their own pace while I impatiently nip at their heels. Meals often last for hours and it is common to see someone debating a selection decision for an unbearable 3 minutes or so as I wait to order my coffee at Starbucks. Torture.

5. When I pay for something, the waiter or cashier always takes a moment to confirm the amount that I placed in their little tray to pay for whatever I purchased or consumed. Say something costs 600 yen and I pay with a 1000 yen bill (about $8 ). I place the 1000 yen and the person usually points to it, gets my attention (I’m usually hammering away at my blackberry or something), says “1000 yen?”, then waits for me to confirm that I just gave them that amount. Yes, I placed 1000 yen in your tray precisely because I want you to use it as currency in this transaction. The fact that this needs to be confirmed is silly. If I handed them a 10000 yen bill, I could see how they might think I made a mistake and would prefer to give them a smaller bill. Just silly. However, it is quite nice that basically everyone accepts a 10000 bill without ever making a fuss. If you go into a convenience store in the U.S. and try to pay for a pack of gum with a $100 bill, there is a good chance that you’ll get some attitude or resistance in breaking it. Better yet, try doing that with a cab driver back home. No dice. In Tokyo, everyone takes the bill with a smile, which is quite nice.

One more thing on paying. Japanese cashiers typically withhold something until the exact moment that you pay for it. This is a slight nuance that may go unnoticed by most. For example, I buy a Starbucks grande coffee every morning. The girls there know me now, and they know exactly what I want – they always greet me with “onaji?”, which means “the same?”. Yet they refuse to give me my coffee until they have counted out my 380 yen in their tray. They will literally hold the coffee back behind the register – sometimes making an overly-demonstrative display of this action – while counting out every coin to be sure that I have the exact amount there before ceremoniously handing the coffee over like it’s some sort of award for good behavior. Good stuff.

Huge caveat – I will happily take the above little annoyances to live in a society where tipping does not exist, which is exactly the case in Japan. That fact alone makes these little issues quite bearable in the end.

6. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to women holding the door or elevator open for me rather than vice-versa. Leaves me with a strange feeling everytime it happens.

7. Here’s a curious dichotomy. For a country so superficially concerned with manners – greetings are a cacophany of pleasantries and the language assigns myriad levels to a common expression based on degrees of politeness – the Japanese can be blatantly impolite sometimes. For example, people don’t wait for you to exit a train or elevator before they make their move to board. Instead, they just pile in as quickly as possible, paying no mind to the fact that you are trying to exit, nor to the common sense of efficiency to the process that would prevail with just a little patience. Plus, people cut me in line all the time. And there appears to be no concept of personal space. In fact, my personal space is violated several times a day, which would give Jerry Seinfeld plenty of material if he were still at it. If I’m standing in line for something and make my way to the register, people will often come up and stand next to me to either look over my shoulder at a menu, stake their claim as next in line, or maybe simply to smell my musk. Also, at restaurants, patrons yell out to the service when they want something. I am treated to a song of “sumimasen” (excuse me) every time I eat out. The beauty is that people yell this out to the server no matter the situation. So even if that server is busy taking my order at the time, that usually doesn’t stop someone from yelling out sumimasen over and over again until their needs are met. Ugh!

That’s all for now. I’ll be sure to update you as new ones come to mind.