Yesterday was pretty thrilling for me for two reasons. First, I went to go see Inception for the second time -- this time by myself and NOT sitting in the second row of the IMAX theater (which I thought I would never have to do that again after my Star Trek IMAX incident). I have to say that Inception is better the second time around, but I can explain all of that in a future post. Don't want to risk spoiling the movie for anyone that hasn't seen it yet. The second reason that made my day above-average was that I had the chance to go to the Dodgers game on a KCAL assignment. I was supposed to be at the stadium by 6:30, meet the photographer, then pretty much just sit in the press box watching the game until we get postgame sound in the clubhouse. As far as KCAL tasks that could be done, this one was the best.
I was particularly excited about going to this Dodgers game because 1) I got to go to Dodger Stadium, which seems like one of those baseball parks you HAVE to visit if you are at all interested in sports; 2) the Dodgers were playing their NL West rivals the Giants and two-time Cy Young winner Tim Lincecum was pitching for them (Tim is a Washington boy, booyah!!!); 3) I get to sit in the press box, so I might see some important columnist or even the legendary Vin Scully; and 4) it's all pretty much free thanks to my press credentials. Let's get this thing going!
I left for Dodger Stadium right after my movie and some lunch-hour Menchies (best fro yo evahhhh) which was around 3:30. It's best to leave early, as traffic in LA can be quite unpredictable. As it turned out, the traffic at that time of day was actually not bad at all. I followed my Google Maps directions to an entrance to the stadium and got in line behind some cars -- at 4:15. Just a wee bit early. There was a chain-link gate blocking the entrance, and it wasn't going to be moved until 5. So I talked with my mom and my grandma for the next 45 minutes while I had to keep my car running as sitting there with no A/C would have been unbearable.
Finally, it was 5 and the stadium workers pulled back the gate and started letting cars through. It didn't take for my car to reach the front of the line since I got their so damn early, and when I reached the kiosk, I flashed my KCAL badge and asked where I pick up my Dodgers credentials. The attendant shot me a confused look and yelled for her supervisor to come over. The supervisor told me that I had come through the wrong entrance and then gave me this list of directions to get to my proper entrance. Well, I'm so happy that I waited in this entrance line for over an hour. The supervisor had to help me cross four lanes of traffic so I could turn around and right myself.
On my first attempt of following the supervisor's directions I got lost. I called my mom, bitched about it, settled down, and she eventually helped me find my way to the correct entrance. I got checked off a list and was told where to park. As I made my way and eventually settled into my parking lot, I was given a pretty awesome view of the LA skyline (which I could actually see through all the smog!). I got to the ballpark and picked up my credentials and decided to phone my photographer to see where he wanted to meet. No answer. Until about 6:30 I was playing phone tag with KCAL and my photographer until finally he called me back to say, "Yeah...KCAL had me come back early today soooooo I'm not getting any sound tonight. I guess you can just hang out there and watch the game." Upon hearing this, I was stoked. Not only did I not have to do any actual work, but I got a cool seat in the press box and got to watch a Dodgers game for free. I made my way to the press box and found the designated KCAL/KCBS seats, including Jim Hill's own personal chair (which were right next to the organ lady). I sat back and started to enjoy the game. I probably enjoyed the game more than Tim Lincecum, who gave up 3 runs in the first inning.
I forgot how boring it is to watch a baseball game live. It's not like watching on TV when you have commercials between innings and constant talking by the play-by-play people. The game trudged along, with a hit batsman there and a coach ejection there. Finally, we get to the top of the 9th inning and the Dodgers are winning 5-3. Everything seems pretty much wrapped up. Even the reporter sitting in front of me, a blogger for LA Times Sports, had finished writing his article but the 7th inning and was just waiting to hit publish after the last out was recorded. Dodgers brought in their All-Star closer Jonathan Broxton. Things were promising. Then somehow, the Dodgers pitching staff seemed to collapse. Three different pitchers threw in the 9th, and the Giants came back to win 7-5. While those in the press box were a little peeved witnessing the Dodgers' sixth loss in a row, I planted a mischievous smile on my face because the LA Times blogger in front of me was all pissed because he had to write his story all over again. That's what happens when you write you story before the game is over, fool! Now, since I had driven all the way down there and had sat through an unbearably boring 3-hour-plus baseball game, I figured that I could tag along with the other reporters down to the clubhouse for some postgame interviews. I followed closely behind two reporters that seemed to know where they were going and eventually found the clubhouse. Everyone filed in to Coach Joe Torre's office and I whipped out my reporter pad and a pen and pretended to take notes that seemed as if they were going to get published somewhere. I didn't care if I was just taking down notes to take down notes, but I got to see Joe Torre and some of the other Dodgers in the locker room. I could name drop all of the players that I saw, but it really wouldn't matter as most people who read this blog have no idea who any of those players are. Though I will say that I did see one of the player's bare ass as he was slipping his jeans on. Ay-ohhhhh!
I have spent the last month eating, breathing, and living football – and now it’s over. 64 games have been played and decided, finishing with yesterday’s World Cup final where my favorite team – the team I steadfastly supported through thick and thin – SPAIN defeated the Dutch to win their first (of hopefully many more to come) World Cup title. I knew they would win it, even before the tournament started, and they pulled it off by playing their elegant style of play that made me fall in love with them over two years ago.
But for reasons unknown to me, a lot of my friends gave me a hard time about supporting the Spanish. Some did it to jerk my chain. Some did it because they couldn’t understand why someone who was supposedly not Spanish could root for SPAIN. Some did it because they thought the only reason I liked La Roja was because I thought Fernando Torres was hot. Well, I’m here to set the record straight. First, I am in fact Spanish…and quarter Spanish in fact. And second, I don’t like SPAIN only because of the attractiveness of their players, but the attractiveness of their play. I like the way they pass the ball and wait for play to evolve, letting goals come organically instead of frantically. I like the way they dizzy teams into submission with their short passes and then suddenly pounce on them, like a cat toying with a ball of yarn. THAT is why I like SPAIN. Just wanted to clear that up.
Since I was watching the World Cup Final with a friend of mine who was cheering for the Netherlands, I did my best to be as gracious a winner as I could possibly be at that time. I didn’t boast, didn’t yell in anyone’s face, and didn’t run around the house twirling my SPAIN jersey in the air. I was respectful to my sad friend because I knew that I would want that same respect if I had been in his situation. And to be truthful, my friend wasn’t even that sad about the Netherlands loss, mainly because he knew that SPAIN was the better team and deserved to win. Yet, some of my other Dutch-supporting friends were not as well mannered. Some blamed the referee because he gave so many yellow cards, and some accused a few of the Spanish players, mainly hero Iniesta, for bringing ugliness into the game by cheating and flopping during the last periods of the game, instigating the red card on Heitinga. Well, I was going to be the bigger person and just let these comments go and not say anything. I was going to let them be sore losers. But after being slightly offended and giving it some thought, I have decided that I am going to say something. Whether people listen or not, at least it will make me feel better to get these remarks off my chest.
First of all, don’t blame referee Howard Webb. It was nearly an impossible game to referee and he did the best he could. Truth be told, he probably should have given out more cards. Second of all – and probably most important – don’t accuse Iniesta or any other Spanish player of playing ugly soccer or ruining the game with their play. If anything, SPAIN was trying to play their beautiful brand of football and the Netherlands were injecting their brutish style in the game. Let me give you some examples:
• Arjen Robben (or the Benjamin Button of football, as I call him) has been known for mainly one thing during this World Cup – diving and flopping. Every time he was touched, he would fall down and scream like a wildebeest was gnawing on his leg. The Final was no exception. And even after he would get his call, he would complain and bitch about it to the referee. He was continually chirping about something to Howard Webb, and it got annoying. Don’t believe me? Check out this little column by an ESPN writer where he complains about Robben’s whining. And this writer is actually DUTCH! Webb finally gave him a yellow card for all his bitching.
• Mark Van Bommel is known for being an enforcer/bully when he is on the field. He tackles people to either disrupt the flow of play or to knock them off their game. He did just that against SPAIN, mainly to knock them off their game of passing and possession. Luckily, referee Webb caught on to this and gave Van Bommel a yellow early on, thus knocking him off his own game. Van Bommel then thought this gave him license to complain about all of Webb’s subsequent calls against the Dutch. Call him Robben Jr.
• Last but not least, don’t forget about Nigel DeJong, the second half of the Dutch midfield bullies. He probably brought about the biggest disgrace to this game when he decided to go King Leonidas on Xabi Alonso’s chest and somehow managed to escape with just a yellow card. How can you call how Iniesta played “ugly” when DeJong literally planted his studs into Alonso’s chest? There is no way that was unintentional; it was just plain dirty. And for those of you that thought that play was the best part of the game, you need to reexamine your opinion of good football. That’s kind of sad.
• For those who complain that Iniesta and other Spaniards flopped in the overtime, just stop it. Don’t even pretend to think that any of the Dutch players would have flopped if they were in the same situation. So just move on.I’m not going to lie, even though SPAIN had a majority of the possession and more shots, the Dutch definitely had more quality chances, especially Robben’s two breakaways that were stuffed by Iker Casillas, who was easily the best goalkeeper in the tournament (if you don’t believe me, he was named the best goalkeeper of the tournament by FIFA). If you want to blame someone for the Dutch losing, blame Robben. He had two opportunities to score and he couldn’t convert. Plain and simple.I am not the only person who is crucifying the Netherlands for playing in such a rough-and-tumble manner. Pretty much all the World Cup writers on ESPN have complained about the Dutch trading in beautiful soccer for brutish soccer. Here are some links to articles.
Even Johan Cruyff, Dutch superstar of the 1970s is slamming his countrymen for their awful style of play. Now you know it’s bad when even your most prominent soccer player says that you disgraced the sport. For all those people out there who are bent out of shape over the Netherlands loss, all I can really say to you is “get over it.” The Dutch had a great tournament, don’t get me wrong. The game could have gone either way, and I wouldn’t have felt that bad if the Dutch won. Okay, I would have been a little upset, but I definitely wouldn’t have openly complained about it. I would eventually get over it and move on to Euro 2012. But you can’t deny the fact that the Spanish deserved to win. They may not have been as commanding victors as they were two years ago in the European Championships, but you couldn’t say that they weren’t the best team in any of their games. They came into the tournament as one of the best teams in the world, and they proved that they are the best team in the world. If you don’t like it, put up or shut up and wait until Brazil in four years.
I'm a writer/production assistant at Northwest Cable News in Seattle and a recent Broadcast News grad from Pepperdine University. I'm living the effing dream!!!
ss box, so I might see some important columnist or even the legendary Vin Scully; and 4) it's all pretty much free thanks to my press credentials. Let's get this thing going!
o I could turn around and right myself.
mes blogger in front of me was all pissed because he had to write his story all over again. That's what happens when you write you story before the game is over, fool!
