You are at the Giants game vs. the Phillies on June 2nd. You are sitting behind home plate, enjoying the game, perhaps even ordering some food from the attendants who are there to attend (obviously, being attendants, they are there to attend) to your every wish. You may do this because you are a glutton who cannot sit still for very long without eating (me). You may be doing it because you will likely never sit in those seats again and feel that you ought to utilize the attendant while you can. In fact, you are probably doing it because you didn't have to pay for parking because the tickets you got came with parking.
So you sit, relaxing comfortably in your larger-than-standard seat, and suddenly you notice that Barry Bonds is up to bat. He is hard to miss because his head blocks out the sun. And the lights. You watch, fascinated because he is one home run away from breaking Henry Aaron’s record. You wonder a few things.
First. When Aaron broke Babe Ruth's record, he couldn't even make it past second base without having some people run out of the stands and try to share the moment with him. You wonder if this was because he was slow, but that can't be it. You wonder if its because those people had something invested in his breaking the record and were close friends of his that he would want to share the record with. Then you remember that people are crazy so you stop wondering.
Second. You wonder if Bonds will have someone race out of the stands to round the bases with him. You know he's slow. You know he is even a bit gimpy as human bodies don't always work when you supercharge the muscles and forget the tendons that hold them in place. Then you remember that people are crazy.
Third. You wonder how you really feel about all this. What if he breaks the record during this at bat? Will you feel connected to a great moment in sports that people might watch fifty years from now on 6,789 inch plasma screen SSSHD screens and wonder why people were so crazy back now? Will you be disgusted and feel that he has cheated his way to the record and weep uncontrollably at the degradation of society brought on by the advent of performance enhancing drugs and Glen Rosazza's inability to single handedly save the environment.
As you are wondering, Barry hits a TOWERING foul ball. It rises high above the stadium drifting slowly back behind the plate. You watch the ball and wonder some more, but nothing important, maybe the laundry you didn't do or whether or not Batman really does hate Superman. Then the ball starts falling and you realize it is going to fall right on you. You do what any sane person does and hope it falls near you and the guy next to you muffs it so you can get it easily and not look like an idiot.
Sadly, it comes right at you, no one jumps, but amazingly you catch it.
Here is your moment. Along with every fan around you, most of the stadium and probably 50+ million people on TV, Barry Bonds is staring right at you. He is out of the box, leaning on his bat slightly, and staring straight at you. You can tell he wants you to say something. An odd quiet falls over the stadium.
If you knew that he would hit the very next pitch out of the park and into Allen Iverson’s back yard in New Jersey, and you knew he would hear exactly what you said, you knew that he was listening to hear what you had to say, what would you say?
Monday, May 21, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Zinedine Zidane in 10 Seconds
I wrote this for a contest on Helium. It took me about twenty minutes and I think its about twenty minutes good. Sorry. Right now I am going for colume over quality, but I thought it had a few decent moments so I figured I'd share. Go to Helium and rate it highly if you want. There are a few on there, all under "Zeke Allen."
I played soccer for one day when I was eight. The coach yelled a lot, it was pretty confusing, and I quit after that first day of practice.
Plus I am American.
Those two together make me as much of an expert in soccer as I am in fixing cars. I mean, I did change my oil myself once and I have listened to "Cartalk" on NPR quite a few times.
I did see some pretty good soccer though. I went to a high school that had one of the top teams in the country, two of my friends are still playing in the MLS, and I recall vividly sitting on the edge of a splintery bleacher as they played into the second sudden-death overtime of the state finals my junior year. I don't know that I have ever been as engrossed in a sporting event as I was that night.
I am only telling you this so that I can tell you about Zinedine Zidane. I can tell you a great deal about him because I have watched him play soccer a grand total of two times.
Those two times told me everything I need to know about him.
The second time is the one that may have become his most famous moment, particularly here in the US. When he turned and laid Materazzi out, it was stunning. Not just because of the suddenness of it since none of us could hear what was being said on the field. Not just because Materazzi played it to perfection and it looked like Zidane had landed a killing blow.
It was astonishing that a player that was so respected would do something so ugly in the waning moments of the World Cup Final in 2006. Most of us Americans were unaware of the fact that he already had the record for the most cautions in World Cup matches or that he had had just set the record for most sending-offs in World Cup play. That a player with an other-worldly grace when it came to playing the ball could turn and (in our eyes as historically unaware Americans) deliver such an ugly blow without any indication of provocation (though I tend to believe that Materazzi said something uniquely offensive to prompt it) created an uncomfortable feeling in the minds of many.
Which brings me to the more important time I watched him play.
I was in Seoul, South Korea eating lunch in a small restaurant watching France play in the semi-finals of the World Cup in 1998. My experience with soccer was limited, as I explained, but I did enjoy watching the games. He actually headed in two goals in the final that year versus Brazil, but I don't remember that game.
I remember just one moment, one play, I don't even remember the goal that I think resulted from it.
The ball came in over Zidane's shoulder from 10 yards past midfield. Zidane was standing just outside the box in a crowd of defenders. I couldn't even tell you who they were playing, but I remember the moment perfectly. The problem is that I was completely mesmerized by Zidane. I had never seen, nor have I seen since then, someone touch a soccer ball with that much control.
As the ball drops in, and it was pretty well struck, he put his foot out and received it so that it did not even leave his foot. The ball was dropping in over his shoulder, and suddenly it was sitting patiently on his foot, waiting to go whever he might will it to go next. He stood in the midst of a crowd of fantastic soccer players, most of whom were trying desperately to take the ball away from him, but in that moment, no one else even mattered.
The ball was going to go where Zidane wanted it to go and everyone else, even everything else was irrelevant. He was acting independently of all the circumstances surrounding him, it was just him and the ball.
Like I said, I don't really remember what happened next, but it seemed very unimportant compared to that singular moment. I didn't need to see Zidane play to know that all the talk of him being one of the greatest of all time was true. Sure it helped to watch him carry a young French team to the final in 2006. I saw other moments where he played the ball so calmly in the midst of defenders you would think he was playing against my team of 8-year olds.
I was saddened when he left the game against Italy, because I hoped that he could propel the French team just one more time to victory against a much better Italian side. I can admit that I had little love for many of the Italian players who seemed to act even better than most of the other professionals in the cup that year. It didn't change the way I felt about Zidane.
Because I saw him work magic with a soccer ball. Once. In a small restaurant in Korea. On a tiny TV in the corner of the room. And I will never, ever forget it.
I played soccer for one day when I was eight. The coach yelled a lot, it was pretty confusing, and I quit after that first day of practice.
Plus I am American.
Those two together make me as much of an expert in soccer as I am in fixing cars. I mean, I did change my oil myself once and I have listened to "Cartalk" on NPR quite a few times.
I did see some pretty good soccer though. I went to a high school that had one of the top teams in the country, two of my friends are still playing in the MLS, and I recall vividly sitting on the edge of a splintery bleacher as they played into the second sudden-death overtime of the state finals my junior year. I don't know that I have ever been as engrossed in a sporting event as I was that night.
I am only telling you this so that I can tell you about Zinedine Zidane. I can tell you a great deal about him because I have watched him play soccer a grand total of two times.
Those two times told me everything I need to know about him.
The second time is the one that may have become his most famous moment, particularly here in the US. When he turned and laid Materazzi out, it was stunning. Not just because of the suddenness of it since none of us could hear what was being said on the field. Not just because Materazzi played it to perfection and it looked like Zidane had landed a killing blow.
It was astonishing that a player that was so respected would do something so ugly in the waning moments of the World Cup Final in 2006. Most of us Americans were unaware of the fact that he already had the record for the most cautions in World Cup matches or that he had had just set the record for most sending-offs in World Cup play. That a player with an other-worldly grace when it came to playing the ball could turn and (in our eyes as historically unaware Americans) deliver such an ugly blow without any indication of provocation (though I tend to believe that Materazzi said something uniquely offensive to prompt it) created an uncomfortable feeling in the minds of many.
Which brings me to the more important time I watched him play.
I was in Seoul, South Korea eating lunch in a small restaurant watching France play in the semi-finals of the World Cup in 1998. My experience with soccer was limited, as I explained, but I did enjoy watching the games. He actually headed in two goals in the final that year versus Brazil, but I don't remember that game.
I remember just one moment, one play, I don't even remember the goal that I think resulted from it.
The ball came in over Zidane's shoulder from 10 yards past midfield. Zidane was standing just outside the box in a crowd of defenders. I couldn't even tell you who they were playing, but I remember the moment perfectly. The problem is that I was completely mesmerized by Zidane. I had never seen, nor have I seen since then, someone touch a soccer ball with that much control.
As the ball drops in, and it was pretty well struck, he put his foot out and received it so that it did not even leave his foot. The ball was dropping in over his shoulder, and suddenly it was sitting patiently on his foot, waiting to go whever he might will it to go next. He stood in the midst of a crowd of fantastic soccer players, most of whom were trying desperately to take the ball away from him, but in that moment, no one else even mattered.
The ball was going to go where Zidane wanted it to go and everyone else, even everything else was irrelevant. He was acting independently of all the circumstances surrounding him, it was just him and the ball.
Like I said, I don't really remember what happened next, but it seemed very unimportant compared to that singular moment. I didn't need to see Zidane play to know that all the talk of him being one of the greatest of all time was true. Sure it helped to watch him carry a young French team to the final in 2006. I saw other moments where he played the ball so calmly in the midst of defenders you would think he was playing against my team of 8-year olds.
I was saddened when he left the game against Italy, because I hoped that he could propel the French team just one more time to victory against a much better Italian side. I can admit that I had little love for many of the Italian players who seemed to act even better than most of the other professionals in the cup that year. It didn't change the way I felt about Zidane.
Because I saw him work magic with a soccer ball. Once. In a small restaurant in Korea. On a tiny TV in the corner of the room. And I will never, ever forget it.
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