A lesson in finishing

It’s not exactly news that Brazil is a very good footballing side.

But during their 3-2 win over the United States in Sunday’s Confederations Cup final, the Selecao showed just how much quality and poise they possess.

And just how far the United States has to go when it comes to sealing the deal on the world stage.

Don’t get it twisted. Any fan of American soccer should be proud of the team’s effort today.

The two first-half goals were brilliant pieces of skill – a stark contrast to the goals against Spain, which were more of the lucky bounce variety.

It’s really all that anyone could ask. For the red, white and blue to have a 2-0 lead over one of the world’s best teams at halftime of a FIFA tournament final is the stuff of dreams.

The problem with dreams is that, sooner or later, you wake up.

So I guess that makes Luis Fabiano the bogeyman.

The Sevilla striker scored in the 46th minute to drag the Samba Kings back in the match before adding the equalizer on a rebound header in the 73rd minute.

Ten minutes later, the captain, Lucio, slammed home a powerful header off a perfectly served corner from Elano to give Brazil the match winner.

And they deserved it.

So, where did it go wrong?

That’s the thing. I’m not so sure it did.

Sure, the U.S. came out of the locker room a bit more tentative with the two-goal cushion. But why wouldn’t they? There’s no need to push so many men forward with a big lead when killing off the game would serve just as well.

No, on most days, two goals would have been enough.

The credit here goes to Brazil. I’m not sure what Dunga said at the half to light a fire under his squad, but the Selecao  looked as good as I’ve seen them since their World Cup run in 2002.

Felipe Melo and Gilberto Silva slammed the door on any U.S. attacks in the midfield and Luis Fabiano kept flashing the form that made him one of La Liga’s most feared strikers.

They came forward in wave after beautiful wave, sliding the ball into the middle, then out to the wings and then in to Tim Howard’s box.

You could see it coming. After the first goal, I knew that No. 2 was on the way. After the second, I hoped we could get it to extra time.

But it didn’t happen.

I’m disappointed, sure. But the overwhelming emotion for me is pride.

We were robbed against Italy, got waxed by Brazil, thumped Egypt, out-gutted Spain and then stood toe-to-toe with Brazil in the final of the Confederations Cup.

I’ll take that anyday.

And I’m taking something else with me from this tournament.

Hope.

Because, if all goes well, we’ll be back on these fields next year, playing for the biggest prize in world sport – the World Cup.

I can think of no better preparation than what we’ve just endured.

Waiving the flag

Today is a good day.

The sky is a bit more blue, the air carries a hint of possibility and the birds are signing Better Than Ezra tunes.

Because today is the first day of a new era of American soccer.

If you’ve been reading my soccer blog, you know that the United States beat Spain, 2-0, yesterday at the Confederations Cup.

Now, my friends and readers cover the entire spectrum when it comes to the beautiful game.

I know people who read this space on a regular basis that refer to soccer as “a communist sport.” I know other people who, like me, are walking around channeling the Special One this morning:

“Shut up, Europe!”

No matter where you come down on the beautiful game, if you bleed red, white and blue, you’ve got to love what went down yesterday and, by extension, what’s happened to American soccer during the last  four days.

• The impossible scenario that faced the U.S. on Sunday before its final group match with Egypt, a team that lost to mighty Brazil on a 93rd minute penalty and blanked Italy 1-0, was this: Beat the Pharaohs by at least three goals and hope for a matching result from Brazil over Italy. Somehow, someway it happened.
• So, buoyed by the fact that they had escaped the group stages by overcoming long odds (9,000-to-1 was the English bookmakers’ line on the States advancing on Sunday morning), the Americans entered Wednesday’s game against the reigning European champions and current top-ranked team in the world, Spain, playing with the proverbial house money.
• Still, playing free and easy wasn’t likely to be enough against a team that had gone 35 matches without a loss, including 15 straight victories. A team that features a laundry list of the world’s best players – Fernando Torres (Liverpool), David Villa (Valencia, for now), Iker Casillas (Real Madrid), Carlos Puyol (Barcelona) and on and on. Let me put it this way. With the possible exceptions of Oguchi Onyewu and Landon Donovan, no American would see the field on that squad.
• So, the odds were long again. But, despite being out-shot (11-4), having three times as many corner kicks (9-3) and absolutely dominating possession, the United States made the most of the chances it created by getting goals from Jozy Altidore and Clint Dempsey in a stunning 2-0 win.

So what does it all mean?

Personally, I think a new day is dawning.

Our Gold Cup win over Brazil in 1998 was nice, but it came on our home soil in a game we really didn’t need to win. The victory over Portugal in the 2002 World Cup was great, but it happened in Asia (read: the middle of the night) and it didn’t really resonate with the public.

This one feels different.

The U.S. team had come under a great deal of scrutiny, and rightfully so, after some awful, low-effort performances against Italy and Brazil.

It’s as if a switch has been flipped, clueing the national team into something that some of its fans have been feeling for quite some time.

We want more.

It’s not enough to just show up in South Africa, get your three games of World Cup practice in and then go home and gear up for the Gold Cup.

We want heart. We want hustle. We want a burning desire to win every ball, get the uniform dirty and play hard for your country.

We got that yesterday.

And when something like that happens, it can transcend the boundaries of the normal sports fan.

Jim Rome, radio and TV host and known soccer hater, led his show yesterday by congratulating the U.S. team for its win. Even the biggest non-believers in soccer have to take their caps off to the red, white and blue today.

Soccer is not where I wish it was in this country. We are No. 14 in the latest FIFA World Rankings and if a team on either side of us on that list, Paraguay or the Czech Republic, did what we did yesterday, they’d still be dancing in the streets of Asuncion or Prague.

But Rome wasn’t built in a day and the roaring passion that burns for this game in Europe or South America can’t be fostered overnight.

But every fire that rages anywhere on this planet begins the same way.

With a spark.

Very much like the one that happened yesterday.

So, you don’t have to love soccer. But anytime a team sells out and shocks the world - for you, you’ve got to tip your cap.

And maybe someday, you’ll even stand up and cheer… 

They said it

“If you’re not ready to defend for your life against a team like Spain, then you’re in big trouble,” defender Jay Demerit said.

“It’s a big day for us and one of the biggest moments in our history,” defender Carlos Bocanegra said. “It’s hard to believe right now; it hasn’t really sunk in. There were a lot of acrobatic, sliding blocks. One guy would be sliding in to clear the shot away, and another guy would come in behind to clean it up. The defense was amazing, but it wasn’t just the defenders – the whole team worked the slam the door shut.”

“We knew we were going to have to defend for our lives,” goalkeeper Tim Howard said. “To pull off a shock win like this you have to defend like your life actually depends on it.”

Breaking out the crystal ball

It hasn't happened yet, but it will

Every once in a while, I like to take a shot at predicting the future.

It’s a good summer activity, cleverly designed to fill the void of sporting news until training camps open for NFL players and freshmen report to campus for the start of football practice.

So, let’s do it:

1. Brett Favre will be a Viking – Yeah, and in other news, gravity is still holding my fat butt in this chair. Look, it’s a done deal. He’ll be there when camp opens up in Mankato at the end of July.

I have a bit of Favre fatigue, though not nearly as much as my wife. Here’s a woman that has loved No. 4 all of her football-loving life, and now she’s on the verge of trading in her love potion for some purple Haterade.

Me? I don’t care that much. It livens up the offseason.

I’ll predict 3,100 yards, 23 TDs and 14 picks.

And a NFC North title.

2. Plaxico Burress and Donte Stallworth will be miss at least the first eight games – Roger Goodell has already dropped the hammer on Stallworth, slapping him with an indefinite suspension. He’ll hit Plax with some league justice as well, assuming he doesn’t wind up in jail first.

3. Florida will repeat as champions – I am not a fan of the Florida Gators, so I say this without a blue-and-orange bias: There’s no way the Gators won’t win the “national championship.”

It’s in quotes because the NCAA doesn’t officially crown a champion. Brilliant, that is.

Anyway, aside from a trip to Baton Rouge to face LSU on Oct. 10, there isn’t a game on the schedule in which the Gators shouldn’t be a touchdown favorite. Their defense returns all 11 starters and they have eight starters back on offense, including that Tim Tebow guy, who I hear is pretty good.

That’s enough for now.

Until we meet again, be champions! (Watch at 2:22)

Hard at work – in other places

That’s right.

I’m busy.

I can prove it, too. Check out the Observer’s soccer blog for a column I wrote on our game against Italy on Monday:

The Offside Trap

Democracy at work

I don’t usually start anything I write with a quote, but I’m making an exception here:

“I didn’t kill nobody, I didn’t rape nobody, so that’s it, I’m just going to come and play the game.”

That bit of wisdom came from the lips of Manny Ramirez, the Dodgers’ slugger who’s serving a 50-game suspension for testing positive for a female fertility drug that’s also a known mask of performance-enhancing drug use.

We can get into whether or not he’s a cheater (he is) or how this affects his Hall of Fame chances (it does), but I want to talk about the 2009 All-Star Game.

You see, he’s on the ballot.

Right now, he’s sixth among National League outfielders in voting. Thankfully, he appears to be fading a bit in the voting race, so perhaps this will all be a moot point.

But let me say this. If he’s elected or chosen to participate in any part of the all-star festivities, I will do something I haven’t done in my 20-plus years as a baseball fan.

I won’t watch a second of it. Not the home run derby, not the game, anything.

I’ll boycott it, and you should too.

I’m tired of this “Manny being Manny” garbage. There is no excuse for taking a shortcut and cheating the game.

There’s no free pass for having to explain to kids with his posters on the wall why their hero would cheat.

I’m sick of pro athletes and their above-it-all attitudes. So, he didn’t rape and kill anybody, eh?

I guess he deserves my congratulations on not being a violent criminal.

Yeah, there are worse things.

Like letting someone who knowingly cheated the game of baseball, his teammates, his club and his fans play in an all-star game.

Here’s hoping that “Mannywood” takes a siesta during the mid-summer classic.

Rolling the dice with Strasburg

Today is likely the biggest day of young Stephen Strasburg’s life.

Later today, the Washington Nationals will likely select him with the first overall pick in the Major League Baseball Draft.

And then the heavens will open up and Strasburg will ride in on a cloud, hop onto the mound at Nationals Park and proceed to strike out 31 batters in a complete game no-hitter.

Yes, I know that only 27 guys would hit in that scenario. But this kid is that good.

He finished his junior season at San Diego State – under the direction of Tony Gwynn – with a 13-1 record, a 1.32 ERA and an amazing 195 strikeouts in 109 innings.

He’s a stud with a 100-mile-per-hour heater and a wicked slider to boot. He’s a slam dunk for the No. 1 overall pick.

But we need to turn the hype machine down a notch.

David Price was the top pick of the Rays in the 2007 Draft, and since he was picthing at Vanderbilt when he was drafted, he makes for a good case study.

Price was 11-0 as a junior at Vanderbilt, in a much tougher baseball conference. He fanned 175 hitters in 123 innings and signed a six-year, $11.25 million deal that  included a $5.6-million signing bonus.

He’s been solid as a major leaguer so far, but he did spend most of 2008 and the first part of 2009 in the minors.

I feel like I should start a stephenstrasburgfacts.com site with all the buzz about this kid. There’s talk of him going straight to the Nationals’ rotation, skipping the minors all together. His agent, Scott Boras, has floated the notion of a six-year, $50 million deal for a guy that has never laced up a pair of spikes on a big league diamond.

Scouts love him. They say the ball jumps out of his hand like Tim Lincecum or Nolan Ryan. They say his changeup is so good he couldn’t use it in college – because those hitters just aren’t good enough.

I admit it. I’m impressed.

But, because I’m contrary, here are a few cautionary tales:

1. In the biggest game he pitched this season, Virginia beat him 5-1 in the first game of the NCAA Regionals. He fanned 15 batters in seven innings, but still allowed a homer and two earned runs in the loss.

2. According to the latest RPI rankings, Strasburg pitched in the seventh-best baseball conference in the land this season. The Mountain West ranked just behind the Big West and just ahead of the Sun Belt.

3. No. 1 picks don’t always fare well. It’s too early to tell about Price, but here’s a look at the pitchers who were the No. 1 overall picks in the draft in the last 20 years:

2006 – Luke Hochevar, Tennessee/Fort Worth Cats (American Association), Kansas City – It’s early, but he’s 7-15 in 30 career big league games with the Royals with a 5.51 ERA.

2002 – Bryan Bullington, Ball State, Pittsburgh – In fairness, he was probably chosen here for signability purposes, as the Pirates didn’t think they could sign B.J. Upton. He’s still trying to make it in Toronto, but he’s 0-5 in 13 career big league starts.

1997 – Matt Anderson, Rice, Detroit – I remember this guy. Threw 103, had the filthy slider and all that. Then he got hurt. A lot. He was 15-7 as a pro with a 5.19 ERA and has been out of baseball since 2005.

1996 – Kris Benson, Clemson, Pittsburgh – Another big-time talent that couldn’t/can’t stay healthy. He’s pitched for four different teams while having a slew of arm woes. He’s 69-74 as a pro and is currently pitching in Texas. His wife  is very easy on the eyes, however.

1994 – Paul Wilson, Florida State, New York Mets – He was also injured quite a bit and had a 40-58 record with a 4.86 ERA as a professional.

1991 – Brien Taylor, East Carteret High, Beaufort, N.C., New York Yankees – Remember this guy? Another can’t miss talent. He’s one of two top picks (Steve Chilcot, 1966) to never play in the Majors.

1989 – Ben McDonald, LSU, Baltimore – Wasn’t too bad, but injuries cut his career short. He was 78-70 with a 3.91 ERA.

He may be the next coming of Roger Clemens. As as a guy who watches 100 Nationals games a year on TV, I hope he is. But the history is hard to ignore here.

I wish Stephen Strasburg nothing but the best.

But you might want to temper that enthusiasm just a hair.

The only college football preview

If you bought any college football magazine other than Phil Steele’s, you’re flat wasting your money.

I stumbled on to this book a few years ago in Shelby, where I got one for free in the mail. I was blown away by the attention to detail in terms of rosters, recruiting, statistics and trends – from a book that goes to press in late May!

This year’s edition is packed with 328 glorious color glossy pages of college football information, including two full pages on every BCS team.

Want to know who the third string QB is at East Carolina? Turn to page 208 and see. (Looks like Josh Jordan)

I used to buy three or four of these magazines a year, but it’s a lot easier to spend $9 on just one.

A slice of history

Tonight could be a special night for Major League Baseball fans.

In our nation’s capital, Randy Johnson will try to become the 24th player in baseball history to reach 300 wins. “The big unit” would be only the sixth lefty to achieve the feat, and it would provide a cherry on what already looks to be a Hall of Fame sundae.

All of that alone makes this event special.

But there’s one other nugget to consider:

It may never happen again.

Now, I know that the word never covers a lot of ground. People thought that Lou Gehrig’s consecutive games streak would never be reached, until it was. People thought that it was impossible for a team to go 16-0 or 0-16 in today’s parity-driven NFL, until both happened.

But a quick glance at the numbers gives me pause. I really can’t tell you where the next 300-game winner is coming from.

Here are the active win leaders:

1. Tom Glavine – 305
2. Randy Johnson – 299
3. Jamie Moyer, age 46 – 250
4. Andy Pettitte, age 37 – 220
5. Pedro Martinez, age 37 – 214
6. John Smoltz, age 42 – 210
7. Tim Wakefield, age 42 – 184
8. Bartolo Colon, age 36 – 153
9. Livan Hernandez, age 34 – 151
T10. Kevin Millwood, age 34 – 146
T10. Tim Hudson, age 33 – 146

When you factor in age, injury history and, in Pedro’s case, lack of employment, no one on this list seems terribly likely to reach 300.

So, start rattling off today’s best pitchers:

CC Sabathia (122), Roy Halladay (140), Roy Oswalt (131), Johan Santana (116), Carlos Zambrano (99), Josh Beckett (94) and Jake Peavy (91) were my first thoughts.

All of those guys are past, at or very near 30 years old. Not sure if any of them will make it, either.

And with today’s ever-growing trend of pitch counts (except for Texas, that is), specialized relievers and holding young talent in AA or AAA to keep their arbitration clocks from starting – I really wonder if we’ll ever see it again.

I hope I’m wrong.

But in case I’m not, you might want to watch Randy Johnson and the Giants take on the Nats tonight.

Just in case.

Sportsmanship, insanity and the prison of recency

As the title suggests, we have a three-prong attack this morning.

First, let’s talk LeBron.

By now, you’ve heard that he left Amway Arena Saturday night after his Cleveland Cavaliers were bounced from the NBA Eastern Conference Finals by the upstart (and highly entertaining) Orlando Magic without shaking hands with his opponents or addressing the media.

“It’s hard for me to congratulate somebody after you just lose to them,” James told the New York Times Sunday after the team returned to Cleveland. “I’m a winner. It’s not being a poor sport or anything like that. If somebody beats you up, you’re not going to congratulate them. That doesn’t make sense to me. I’m a competitor.”

Sorry. Doesn’t wash with me.

I know I’m going to come off as a grouchy media guy here, but LeBron James has to be better than that. He has to walk up to Dwight Howard and shake his hand, even as confetti falls around him. He has to put on a suit and sit at the podium and answer questions after the loss.

Why?

Because he’s a superstar. Because his poster is on our kids’ walls and we want them to learn sportsmanship. Because, if we’re really serious about considering him to be the greatest player of all time, he has to be as classy off the court as is is dominant on it.

Because, 50 years from now, when people read the story of what happened in Game 6 of the 2009 Eastern Conference Finals, it won’t contain a quote from arguably the most important player of his generation.

Because if we have to watch him star in commercial after commercial, whether it’s the LeBrons or the puppets or just him sipping a Sprite, he should have to step in front of a microphone when he’s not selling something. Anybody can talk to the media when they’re winning. It takes a man to do it when he’s disappointed.

I don’t want to come off as not liking the man. In fact, I hold him up as what’s right about the NBA these days. He’s a well-spoken young man who’s generous with his time off the court. He’s a family man who’s close to his mother and, by all accounts, dotes on his two small children.

And I think he’s well on his way to surpassing Jordan as the best the game’s ever seen.

No, I’m not hating on him.

But I am disappointed.

College Baseball Gone Wild

You might have missed these two bizarre instances from this weekend’s NCAA Baseball Regionals:

1. Texas beats Boston College 3-2 in 25 innings on Saturday night/Sunday morning. The game featured Texas closer Austin Wood pitching 13 innings, including 12.1 innings of no hit ball while fanning 14. He threw 169 pitches – after tossing 30 the night before.

It lasted seven hours and three minutes.

Geez.

2. I was flipping through the channels yesterday when I stopped on ESPNU to see how Florida State and Ohio State was going. IT WAS 32-0 IN THE FIFTH INNING!!!

Oh my.

The Seminoles went on to squeak by, 37-6. FSU has 38 hits and 15 doubles in the win.

God bless aluminum bats.

Nadal flames out in Paris

I was playing tennis, rather than watching it, on Sunday morning when the biggest upset of the year went down at the French Open.

Rafael Nadal had his 31-match winning streak broken in Paris at the hands of Robin Soderling, ranked somewhere around 20th in the world.

Soderling’s no scrub, but when you consider that the world’s No. 1 player whipped him on dirt 6-0, 6-1 just a few weeks ago, this was a bit of a shocker.

Kind of makes that article I saw in the Wall Street Journal suggesting that Nadal was “unbeatable” a little silly.

Has anyone else noticed that, all of a sudden, everything we see in the world of sports has to be the greatest ever? Even my praise of Lebron qualifies, though I can back that up with video-game-like playoff numbers if you want.

Nadal is a beast on clay. He’s the best in the world on the crushed brick today. But is he the best ever?

Bjorn Borg was pretty good. He also won four French Opens in a row, like Nadal has done.

How good would the Swede have been if he had space age rackets and access to the modern training and dietary methods Nadal uses to fuel his seemingly endless supply of energy?

I don’t know.

Neither do you.