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I'm the newly-appointed Future editor at Business 2.0 and the former San Francisco correspondent for Time Magazine.
Wow, so does this mean everything you write reflects Time Inc's opinion? Or do you perhaps have some sort of standard disclaimer to the effect that it doesn't?
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An experiment for a column I wrote about blogging back in December 2001. All these years later, I haven't been able to kick the habit.
If it's called Daily Blah, how come you don't ... hey, wait, you're writing every day!
See? Told you I'd try harder.
Mister, you talk funny. Are you one of them furrners?
Why yes I am, as it happens. I was born, raised and educated in Great Britain. I've been living in the U.S. since 1996 and identify as British.
I say, old chap, you forgot the "u" in "colour."
No I didn't. I may identify as British, but I am also an American journalist writing for an American audience about mostly American issues. These two different sides of me are a constant source of tension. Nevertheless, Daily Blah will adhere to American English grammar and spelling.
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Daily Blah for... Tuesday, June 18, 2002
What Part of 'Watch the World Cup' Don't You Understand?
I was never much of a soccer fan when I grew up in England. I'm still not much of a soccer fan. I never follow club football. Nominally I support Liverpool and Newcastle, but couldn't give you more than a handful of current players' names. So it is something of a surprise to find myself adopting the role of soccer missionary, a one-man proselytizing force amongst the only tribe on Earth that hasn't caught this religion. I'm constantly haranguing my American friends: Look! This is something special! Your team has just qualified for the quarter finals of the World Cup, the most-watched sporting event in the world, for the first time ever! Their response, more often than not, is desperately feigned interest. They can accept what I'm saying on an intellectual level. They comprehend the political correctness of it. But they don't feel it. Not like back home where, my father tells me, the flag of St. George is suddenly flying on every street, cities are deserted at match time, and the upcoming match against Brazil -- one of the most anticipated in the country's history -- dominates the national conversation. By contrast, I have not heard anyone around me mention the upcoming US v Germany fixture -- easily the most anticipated in this country's history -- more than once.
Why not, I keep asking myself? What will it take? A societal shift, a general nationwide agreement to go soccer crazy? A hundred million watercooler chats? The minority soccer fans marching on Washington, carrying banners, singing We Shall Overcome? Congressional legislation? A Constitutional Amendment asserting that soccer is the global sport and, as such, is worth taking seriously?
Perhaps. But phase one is my fellow members of the media abandoning certain prejudices that I am amazed to find they still cling to: that soccer is a kid's game, that grown-ups pick up the ball and run headlong into men with large chunks of metal on their bodies, that a game isn't a game unless there's a natural break for beer or the bathroom every five minutes. Some American journalists, like our very own Bill Saporito, understand this very well. Then there are others, like our very own Joel Stein, who ruin the advances made by people like Bill by trotting out the same tired old soccer jokes. I know Joel, and I know he didn't mean half the things he wrote in last week's essay -- he rarely does, he's that kind of gadfly writer who will do anything for a gag, that's just his shtick, he's a nice person in real life -- but most of our readers aren't quite so postmodern. Repeat the prejudice, and you make it easier for people not to tune in and actually catch more than five minutes of the action. Henry Kissenger, a major soccer fan, once compared the game favorably to chess. There are all these wonderful patterns and strategies going on; you just need to invest the time to be able to see them.
Last week I got irked at a San Francisco Chronicle reporter called Peter Hartlaub who wrote a passing remark about "soccer's idiotic 'no-hands' rule." I fired off an e-mail: "A little strong, n'est-ce pas? A little judgemental? A little missing-the-point-ish? It's a sport. You might as well write 'marathon running's idiotic can't-use-a-bicycle rule,' or 'baseball's idiotic the-pitcher-can't-use-a-rocket-launcher rule.' " His response: "Dude, what's your problem? Are you trying to bait me into some kind of flame war so you can put it on your blog? I'm not biting." Shame, really. A flame war was not my intention, but I'd love to get some dialog going, to stir things up, to make reporters reexamine the old prejudices. So come on, guys. You roll your eyes at the mention of the World Cup? You come talk to me. I may not be its most knowledgeable defender or its most eloquent, but someone has to stand up and tell America when it's missing out.
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