Pacho vs. Piero

Happy birthday to Mary.

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Some old-ish news:

For the second straight year, an Ecuadorian will win the UEFA Champions League. Paris Saint-Germain (the holders) and Arsenal will contest the final. Willian Pacho plays for PSG, and Piero Hincapié plays for Arsenal.

Both play for the national team, and they used to be teammates at Independiente del Valle.

I don’t care which club wins the Champions League. Arsenal once were purists; now they’re pragmatists. PSG are delightful to watch, but one can muster only so much enthusiasm for a propaganda arm of the Qatari state.

What about the players? Should I cheer more for Pacho or for Piero? Pacho won last year, and Piero hasn’t won. (Advantage: Piero.) But Pacho is likelier to play more minutes. (Advantage: Pacho.)

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Recent news:

CR7’s club failed to clinch the Saudi league title because of this very late “own” goal:

More results

Copa América quarterfinals

Argentina 1 (4), Ecuador 1 (2). We outplayed the world champions but lost the shootout. Pity.

We almost were knocked out by soccer kindergarteners, one Argentinian journalist complained.

Our coach, Félix Sánchez Bas, a Spaniard, resigned afterward. Rumor has it, his wife and children have been unhappy in Ecuador; they may even have been bullied by fans. I’m very sorry if this is the case. Sánchez is likely to take another job in Qatar.

Brazilians and Uruguayans are scoreless as of this writing. Canada beat Venezuela in another shootout, and Colombia thumped Panama, 5–0, in the Darién Classic.

UK general elections

Labour thumped the Tories. No Tories won seats in Wales.

Euros

Türkiye 2, Austria 1. A good game. Afterward, the Turkish goalscorer, Merih Demiral, was suspended. The Dutch eliminated the Turks today.

Spain 2, Germany 1. A good game. Alas, yellow cards were distributed willy-nilly, and various players were suspended. Spain’s is the only pleasing team left in these Euros.

The French are still tedious to watch, and the English are still putrid. Both teams have reached the semifinal round. Both could reach the final. Wouldn’t that be nice.

I liked what the Mexican commentators said about the English and Dutch fans: For all their color, they’re tepid once the game starts, probably because they’re already soused.

This would explain why the Turks outcheer pretty much everyone during the games.

Another good anti-war essay

Karin: “Did you trim your mustache today, Sweetie?”

John-Paul: “No, Sweetie.”

Karin: “I thought you might have left it long, to show your support.”

John-Paul: “You mean for Andy Reid?”

Karin: “Yes, ha, ha.”

John-Paul: “Yes, that’s right, and that’s why I got fat again, too.”

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Tonight’s essay, by Richard Norman, is “The Case for Pacifism.” It takes the “skeptical” approach: it argues, first, that in the absence of a compelling justification, large-scale killing can be presumed to be wrong; and then that the best purported justifications of large-scale killing are not compelling enough. Finally (pp. 208 and 209), it addresses the lingering conviction that there are situations in which fighting nonetheless cannot be avoided:

If we can pin down the sense of the statement “We have no choice,” we may be in a position to understand why pacifism remains difficult to accept. …

When people say that one sometimes has no choice, what they mean, I think, is that by refusing to fight, say, against aggression, or indeed against internal oppression, one is acquiescing in a very great evil, and by acquiescing in it one is tacitly endorsing it. Morally speaking, faced with that evil, we have no choice but to resist it, and if the only way to resist it is to fight, then we have no choice but to fight.

Now this reading of the situation might be challenged. … One might say: “I have not acquiesced in Nazism. I refuse to engage in military resistance to it, … but that does not mean that I accept Nazism. I reject it wholeheartedly, I will give no support to it, and if the Nazis order me to cooperate with their crimes I shall disobey even though I may be shot.” …

Nevertheless, even if many people had thought and acted thus, it could remain true that, in an important sense, Nazism had not been resisted. This is because resistance to a social phenomenon such as aggression or oppression must, if it really is to count as resistance, take a socially identifiable form. … What forms of resistance are available will therefore depend upon the institutions and traditions of the community; and if the only recognised and organisable form of resistance is military resistance, then not fighting will mean not resisting. This, I think, is the significant sense in which people could say “We have no choice but to fight.”

This is another case of a pacifist explaining more clearly than do most “bellicists” (war apologists) how warring might continue to seem good, or necessary, to do, even after the usual justifications alluding to rights and harms have run out of steam.

Norman’s reconstruction of this bellicist argument has other applications. The same pattern of reasoning helps to make sense of a popular “anti-racist” claim: that failing to actively resist racism is itself a form of racism: that a person who merely refrains from engaging in racial discrimination, disrespecting, harming (etc.) and does not actively try to prevent or counteract others’ racism is himself guilty of racism. The underlying idea, as in the case of war, is that refraining from doing an evil without trying to prevent or counteract others’ doing it is a form of acquiescence, and that acquiescence in this evil is tacit endorsement of it. Each of these steps might be contested; here I just want to point out that insofar as “anti-racism” and advocacy of war both rely on this pattern of thought, they are structurally similar, and there is a prima facie tension in endorsing “anti-racism” together with pacifism; indeed, there would seem to be a tension between accepting pacifism and insisting on the viciousness of failing to promote a number of causes. Pacifists who, by temperament or habit, are militant activists need to examine themselves closely.

I said last time that I’d discuss “the encroachment of politics upon the sporting world.” It seems to me that the best argument for stripping a locale of its opportunity to host or participate in a sporting event is the same sort of argument that Norman advances on behalf of warring, and that whether the argument succeeds in a given situation depends on whether the above-delineated sequence of steps should be accepted in that situation. If Qatar, say, commits an injustice outside of sport, does allowing it to host the World Cup amount to acquiescing in that injustice? If so, does this amount to tacitly endorsing the injustice? How does allowing Qatar to host the World Cup compare, as a matter of tacit endorsement of injustice, with traveling to Qatar, trading with Qatar, maintaining diplomatic relations with Qatar, and so on? I suggest that this is a useful framework for assessing the widespread, knee-jerk disparagement of Qatar’s World Cup (and FIFA) that has taken place during the last dozen years.

The bloodletting

Karin, Samuel, Daniel, and I all got into the car early this morning and went to the South Bend Clinic so I could have blood drawn for some routine tests. Good thing I didn’t take the bus: I had to be poked twice, and almost fainted. I lay on a bed in the clinic and the nurse revived me with orange juice and two or three cold packs.

“You can keep them,” she said. (They aren’t re-usable.)

Having blood drawn is one of those Supposedly Fun Things I’ll Never Do Again.

Meanwhile, Karin took the boys to McDonald’s and got us all some breakfast, for which I was grateful: nothing gives one an appetite like nearly fainting. Karin had plenty of time to go to McDonald’s because the lab at the clinic was crowded with patients who surely wanted to get tested early so they could go home and watch the World Cup.

Here is the bracket. The first two knockout games were played today.

I’d be glad to see the two African teams reach the semifinals on the right-hand side of the bracket. It’s not farfetched. Say what you will about Qatar as a host nation, the Islamic teams have benefited from playing in the Middle East. It’s only fair that they should be allowed to play where it feels like home, as the Western countries so often do.

On the left, I’d like to see Argentina play against Brazil. But I’d settle for Croatia.

We crash out; the French-born; a movie for the family

Congratulations to the Senegalese, who outplayed and beat us.

The Dutch outplayed and beat the Senegalese.

We outplayed the Dutch but unluckily didn’t beat them. So, we crashed out.

(All three countries outplayed and beat the Qataris by the same number of goals.)

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This four-year-old Vox video is truer than ever. The French talent pool is deep. France supplies the rest of the world with players: especially, the African teams.

This time, France is without some of its top stars; but the reality is, it could field half a dozen decent teams in a single World Cup – teams so competitive that on a good day, a “B” or “C” French team could beat the “A” team. This afternoon, Tunisia, with ten French-born players on its roster, beat France-proper. Tunisia was unlucky not to qualify out of its group.

If Senegal defeats England – which isn’t beyond imagining; it will be a bruising game for the English – Senegal could face France in a quarterfinal. A largely French-born, French-trained team could knock out France.

(Click to enlarge.)

This raises interesting questions for the French constitutional principle of laïcité, which explicitly concerns itself with religious identity but often is interpreted as applying to other forms of identity. “France does not refer to its citizens based on their race, religion or origin. To us there is no hyphenated identity,” the French ambassador to the U.S. famously said after the 2018 World Cup. What, then, to make of French citizens who try to defeat the French team in the name of Senegal or Tunisia? Do they not belong to the French nation? (Legally, they surely do.) Or, by French cultural lights, do they not truly represent those other countries? Do the ambassador’s words imply that the Tunisian team is a cultural sham?

I have no very firm grasp of how the French themselves would answer these questions. (Not that I’d insist that only the French are entitled to decide what it is to be French, even if they are entitled to decide who is French.) But it does seem to me that French national identity has different sorts of conditions than, say, U.S. national identity. This should give pause to identity activists and theorizers. In this era of identity politics, national identity is too often overlooked, or it’s taken for granted as a fixed part of the background. But it is not equally fixed by the same variables everywhere, even if, everywhere, the law helps to fix it; and its significance and function vary from nation to nation.

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Tonight our family took a break from watching murders. Instead, we watched Minions, which, many years ago, was either the first or the second movie that Karin & I saw together in a theater. Samuel walked around repeating Minion-gibberish and catchphrases like “Respect, power, banana!” Daniel, who was still wearing his oversized Ecuador shirt after yesterday’s game, himself looked like a little yellow Minion.

Ecuador 2, Qatar 0; England 6, Iran 2; tornadoes

I had to wait twenty years to see Ecuador play for the first time in a World Cup. I lived through five World Cups before Ecuador ever qualified for one. Oh, the shame and helplessness of those years.

Samuel and Daniel saw their very first World Cup game yesterday, and Ecuador played in it.

Ecuador scored the first goal after three minutes. Stephen and I jumped up and yelled and celebrated. Samuel and Daniel were startled. They cried.

Then the goal was disallowed because a player was offside.

Stephen and I couldn’t see the infraction – not even after the replay was shown. I gather that 99% of the world couldn’t see it, either. That doesn’t mean it didn’t exist. Offside is decreed by technology now. Good thing, because if a human referee had decided that we were offside on that play, FIFA and the host nation would have lost all credibility.

In any case, fútbol-wise, Qatar was doomed. Ecuador was better by about ten miles. The only question, at that point, was whether the referee would permit Ecuador to win.

Then, after twelve minutes, he awarded Ecuador a penalty kick. (He couldn’t have done otherwise, really.) He should have shown Qatar’s goalie a red card, but, understandably, he let the host nation off the hook.

Enner Valencia, who had been missing his penalty kicks in recent games, calmly scored. Stephen and I were quiet this time.

The rest of the game was a walk-through for Ecuador. The Qataris were rattled and simply awful. The Ecuadorians were more cautious than I should have liked. Valencia scored again later in the half, and then Ecuador rested. Or tried to; Qatar kept on fouling.

The Ecuadorian supporters could be heard cheering. Many Qatari supporters left at halftime.

In this video, one of the soberer analysts on U.S. television describes the Qatari exodus. Some of the numbers he cites seem off, but the lesson is clear enough.

How valuable was this victory? We got the points. We regained some confidence after a series of lackluster practice games. Our main scorer regained his form. Were we good? Impossible to say. Qatar was so, so bad. We could have tried harder to score more goals, but it was crucial to rest and calm down. The games against the Netherlands and Senegal will be very hard.

This analysis is fair.

For one day, we led the whole world in the standings – something which also happened during the 2006 World Cup. Then, this morning, England beat Iran 6 goals to 2. Iran looked miles and miles better than Qatar.

Here is Un mundo inmenso’s take on this World Cup.

Now, something different. Samuel asked to watch more tornado videos, so I put on Netflix’s series Earthstorm. It has the best tornado footage I’ve seen. I highly recommend it.

Pre-tourney gripes

As if we needed more scandal, the rumor spread on Twitter that supporters of Qatar bribed several Ecuadorian players to lose the opening match. The rumorer, a British-based Bahraini journalist, has been identified and discredited.

Still, it irks.

Meanwhile, The Guardian takes pot shots, as it has been doing since Russia and Qatar rather than England and Australia were awarded the hosting rights for the 2018 and 2022 tournaments. The paper now claims that this World Cup is a ruse for the host nation to be glorified through the Argentinian, Brazilian, and French players employed and rested by Paris Saint-Germain. (The club is owned by Qatari investors.) True or not, the criticism is silly. Is it really unfair that PSG should give Messi some days off before the tournament, when other clubs – and entire leagues – could protect their stars if they so chose?

Other criticisms of the host country, and of the social and political evils of global soccer, are more serious. Of these, some are better supported than others. The Guardian’s tally of deaths of foreign workers is especially contentious, yet it is cited without qualification by other mainstream publications, such as The Atlantic.

There is a lot of noise.

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I listened to an analysis by the Anglo-centric YouTube channel Tifo Football that got Ecuador’s tactics and personnel pretty wrong. I’m not saying we’re world-beaters or that we play the prettiest soccer, or even that we’re better than Qatar or Senegal or the Netherlands. But it’d be nice not to be slandered. When we lose possession, we don’t immediately stack our players behind the ball; on the contrary, we fight to quickly regain possession high up the field. And it’s Moisés Caicedo who attacks and Carlos Gruezo who drops back, not vice versa. Anyone who watches knows this. (This mistake would be less irritating if the analyst hadn’t just name-dropped Caicedo – a Premier Leaguer – as if he knew whom he was talking about.)

As regular readers know, this is the time when my thoughts and blogging are pretty well filled up by the World Cup.

Ecuador 1, Argentina 1

In Guayaquil, Argentina had us under control; and then, at the 89th minute, the VAR awarded us a penalty kick. It was blocked, but the taker, Enner Valencia, put in the rebound. I think we are not very good, compared to Argentina.

I looked at Qatar on Google Maps. No two World Cup stadia are separated by more than an hour’s drive, or a thirteen-hour walk.

Example 1.

Example 2.

Here is a stadium built of shipping containers.

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I am so behind on my reading, I’ll have to finish nine books next month to meet my quota. (I begin counting titles each May and conclude the following April.)

I’ve again taken up the Commedia. The end of Purgatory is near. Some passages – e.g., the one with the Siren – are stunningly good; others are tedious; some are kinda weird; and some, like these lines from canto XXI, are shocking:

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

In the days when good Titus, with the aid

of the Almighty King, avenged the wounds

that poured the blood Iscariot betrayed …

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

(Translator: John Ciardi)

Um, which “good” Titus is this? Surely not …

Roman Emperor, A.D. 79–81. In A.D. 70 in the reign of his father Vespasian, Titus besieged and took Jerusalem. Thus, with God’s help, Rome avenged the death (the wounds) of Christ. So Dante, within his inevitable parochialism, chose to take that passage of history. The Jews, one may be sure, found less cause for rejoicing in the goodness of Titus.
[Translator’s note]

Within my own “inevitable parochialism,” I am a little horrified.

Dante is a master, and I’m just a guy. But … my goodness. On the one hand, he’s very careful about the position of the sun over Mt. Purgatory. On the other, he seems very casual with his name-dropping. Sometimes, he saddles a penitent soul with the sins of two historical people with the same name.

My favorite character is the first-century poet Statius, who has a celebrity-crush on Virgil. As Dante tells it, Statius clandestinely converted to Christianity. There is no evidence that he really did so; his role in the poem is to personify Christianity’s appropriation of the best aspects of pagan Rome. Dante is so proud of Rome, he reminds me of a “God and Founding Fathers” evangelical.

I’m woefully ignorant of the history of sola scriptura. I wonder, were the Reformers (non-Italians) driven to it because they were fed up with this sort of thing?

Paraguay 3, Ecuador 1

Not our best outing.

Fortunately, the Chileans failed to defeat Brazil (they came up five goals short), and Uruguay defeated Peru (somewhat controversially). These results guaranteed our qualification for this year’s World Cup, with a game to spare.

Uruguay qualified, too.

The really shocking result was in Europe: North Macedonia eliminated Italy, the continental champions.

As of this writing, we are the qualified nation with the second-least World Cup experience. This will be our fourth World Cup. For Qatar, the host nation, it will be the first.

Thirteen of thirty-two places remain unclaimed.

Yahoo! trolls the world

There’s a tradition in U.S. soccer journalism of importing awful British pundits. Several of these donkeys have worked for Yahoo! Sports.

When I first moved to this country, I was delighted with Yahoo! for re-publishing other news agencies’ reports from all over the world. Every day, I’d read of the domestic leagues in Botswana or Thailand or wherever. Coverage of South America was especially good.

All of that fine reporting is long gone. Now, Yahoo!’s content is much narrower in scope, and the site employs its own journalists. These pundits have tended to sing the praises of (a) the English Premier League, (b) the U.S. men’s team, (c) the English men’s team, (d) Cristiano Ronaldo, (e) the other powerful European leagues and teams (France’s, Germany’s, Italy’s, and Spain’s), and (f) U.S. Major League Soccer – more or less in that order. Presumably, these are the topics that U.S. readers care about.

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For years, the especial jackass at Yahoo! was one Martin Rogers, who’s moved on to USA Today. How I loathed that “bloke.” … But now, I wonder if Ryan Bailey, the “wanker” du jour, is even worse.

First, Bailey doesn’t write. He makes videos. (Rogers would at least write his columns.)

Second, the videos are obnoxious, due to Bailey’s relentless cheerfulness.

Third, Bailey doesn’t just wish to preserve the status quo; he favors giving dramatically more power to the most mercenary entities.

See, for example, his recent video, “Making the Case to Scrap International Soccer.”

This is his case:

(1) International soccer sometimes conflicts with the Premier League.

(2) And the Premier League is obviously what everyone wants to view.

(3) Besides, we don’t have to scrap international soccer completely. If we were to keep soccer as an Olympic event, that would be good enough.

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This cannot be a serious argument. No one who isn’t already on Bailey’s side would be convinced. Bailey must be trolling.

But if Bailey is serious, he obviously hasn’t watched the South American World Cup qualifiers. If his idea of a good game is Brighton vs. Newcastle or Arsenal vs. Chelsea, he should try watching Uruguay vs. Chile, or Chile vs. Paraguay, or, least glamorous of all, Paraguay vs. Venezuela. (In the 2018 World Cup cycle, each of those South American fixtures turned out to be a matter of life and death.)

As for moving soccer’s main event to the Olympics: either the Olympics would have to be greatly expanded to accommodate a soccer tourney with the magnitude of the World Cup, or else the world’s main soccer tourney would have to be shrunk. The first option would leave in place all of what Bailey dislikes about the current system (including, I presume, the massive qualification phase). And the second option would fail to placate those who like having a big tourney and its attendant qualification games.

One suspects that the real motive for incorporating the world’s main soccer tourney into the Olympics would be to allow U.S. fans to feel better about themselves, since their country would likely excel in many other events. (“We didn’t reach the podium in soccer? Well, at least we earned the gold in beach volleyball.”)

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Bailey also states that players prefer to focus on their clubs and not their national teams.

To which every South American replies: You must be from England.

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Even so, I probably am more disillusioned with international soccer than I ever have been. This latest World Cup left me especially discouraged. I worry that international soccer will always be unjust – and not only contingently so; I worry that people’s valuation of it is conceptually confused.

I may discuss these issues further during the next several months.

Chile 0 (3), Portugal 0 (0)

I recall those shocking days when Russia and Qatar were awarded the hosting rights of the 2018 and 2022 World Cups. Everyone in the West screamed bloody scandal. Especially the English. … And now, it’s reported that Prince William, his Prime Minister, and their cronies negotiated an illegal trade of votes with officials from South Korea (another bidding nation).

Gloat, gloat, gloat.

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Today, Portugal and Chile played the first semifinal game of this Confederations Cup. I turned it on and viewed it for ten minutes. “No goals in this game,” I foresaw.

I watched Netflix. Then I turned the game back on and viewed during minutes 83–90. Still no goals. I regretted my decision to report on the tournament.

The announcers kept saying what a good game it’d been. Maybe they were right. I couldn’t tell.

The thirty-minute extra time started slowly and finished with a flurry of attacking. The Chileans should have been awarded a penalty kick, but VAR did not intervene. Then, twice, they struck the goalposts.

The shootout was more straightforward: three shots, three goals for the Chileans; three shots, three misses for the Portuguese.

The gringos vs. FIFA

Old news: in Switzerland, the U.S. government has caused a dozen or so of FIFA’s bigwigs to be arrested.

No doubt these bigwigs are guilty of corruption. No doubt they’ve violated international law – or, under U.S. jurisdiction, U.S. law. I don’t know the details … but I’m sure the gringos can legally justify the arrests.

According to the Russians, this is just “another case of illegal extra-territorial implementation of American law.”

But I don’t think it is illegal. Or I’ll assume it isn’t, for discussion’s sake.

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Nor will it matter to what I’m going to say that the arrests are being done in a vindictive spirit.

What if the U.S., and not Qatar, had been awarded the 2022 World Cup hosting rights? Would the gringos have pursued the bigwigs? I doubt it.

But I won’t dwell on this.

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What interests me is how FIFA’s members will react to the arrests, and what all of this means for international tournaments.

FIFA’s members, the national soccer bodies, determine how FIFA is governed; and up until now, what they’ve done is to insist on FIFA’s (and their own) autonomy from sovereign states. No national soccer body is permitted by FIFA to be housed by an interfering state. A national soccer body is punished by FIFA if the state which houses it does not refrain from meddling in its affairs (and in those of the soccer bodies of other nations).

This is to preserve the integrity and voluntariness of the sport. FIFA wishes to arrange neither gladiatorial contests between slaves, nor “champion” warfare between nations.

Punishment takes the form of simple banning. FIFA isn’t going to confront anybody with planes and tanks, but it may disallow teams from playing in tournaments.

There are lighter bans, too.

For example, in 1993, the Aussie government refused to allow Diego Maradona to play against Australia in a World Cup qualifier. (Aussie law blocked convicted drug offenders from entering the country.) FIFA judged that this was an unwelcome political intrusion upon the sport, and threatened to move Australia’s home game to a neutral site. The Aussie government relented. Maradona was allowed to play.

Notice: the Aussie government could have permitted its soccer federation to receive punishment. Or, in protest, it could have withdrawn the Socceroos from the World Cup. It did neither of those things. It chose to refrain from enforcing the law of the state.

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Faced with lawbreaking, the U.S. government also could have chosen this option. But instead it has chosen to prosecute FIFA’s elected officials.

Let me stress that in the present case, the gringos aren’t just reacting to a crime. In effect, they’re enforcing their own idea of how FIFA should be governed, not minding that these officials were elected, wisely or foolishly, by FIFA’s other members.

Now usually when the U.S. government behaves like this, there is little that the opposition can do. But this time the opposition has a good deal of clout. The national soccer bodies have the power to impose some kind of ban against the U.S. Soccer Federation.

Will they do it? My guess is, no. Should they do it? Well, yes, if they want to preserve their autonomy from the states.

This is the situation. X, Y, and Z have long been coming together to hold a sporting contest – jointly deciding how to hold it. Those who won’t cooperate simply are left out. But now the godfather of one of the contestants is insisting, coercively, that the contest not be held in a certain way.

Suppose X, Y, and Z acquiesce. Whose contest is it, then? Is it still theirs? One thing, for sure: it’s the godfather’s. The participants, X, Y, and Z, are no longer making the decisions of this joint activity all on their own.

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Do the various national soccer bodies really want the gringos to have de facto veto power over them?

My guess is, they’ll put up with it, because the U.S. has a lot of political and cultural influence – as well as a lot of money, some of which will trickle down.

In effect, the soccer bodies will be selling out, again … and then again … and as long as they continue to allow the U.S. to have de facto veto power. And by selling out to this (de facto) administrator, they’ll be privileging one participant over the others; and not just for one tournament (as Qatar is being privileged for 2022) – or even for a handful of tournaments – but indefinitely.

If the soccer bodies set out to contain corruption on their own, they’ll at least be able to do it with some fairness. The sporting benefits of corruption will be spread out more or less evenly around the world. Contestants like Qatar will have fifteen minutes of glory, and that’s all.

But if the gringos have veto power over the governance of FIFA, the sporting benefits will skew towards them. I couldn’t specify the mechanism. But we all know how it’ll turn out.

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For the sake of sport, then, I think that what the gringos are doing is bad, and that FIFA will be shirking its sporting duty if it doesn’t punish them. This isn’t yet an argument about morality (though one may try to draw further moral lessons from it). Morally, is U.S. hegemony in global affairs a bad or a good thing? I know what I think about that, but I don’t have the time to discuss it here. It’s taken long enough for me just to hint at how tacky it is that the U.S. should dictate sporting justice. Moral justice is yet another problem.