Ibrá- 'I'm not a fag!'

I saw a clip of a Catalan reporter speaking to Ibrahimovic after a practice.

In her hand was a photo of Ibra huddled close to Pique, a lynchpin of the defense. There is an intimacy present.



As she tried to get to the footballer amid the crash of hysterical fans circling his sports car, she circled to the passenger side and Ibra opened his window to her.

She asked what he thought of the photo and if he was angry.

"Venga[come on]," he responded.

Then he beckoned her to the window, as she continued asking if he was angry, and he told her to come with him and see who's a "maricon." She responds, 'oh, then let's go to your house', to which he tells her to bring her sister. She says he's mad and he drives off.

I can imagine him beating the wheel with his arms and cursing on the ride home. The tension that would rear up in the locker room at the embarrassment. Ibra is a hot-headed striker. A self-prizing ferrari. A dick.

There are certainly gay players and club members, but almost none openly. Instead there is adonis intimacy alluded to by the marketing of the game and by the players themselves. They just had a spread in Vanity Fair of the top World Cup jocks in their briefs painted with their national flags. Gayest thing since the village people. I keed...

There is a lot of sexual marketing in sports, particularly for a sport (soccer) that has yet to break big in the states. I can hear the PR team screaming 'Push the Beefcake!'-...and cue the blow-up of the Vanity Fair cover to Oprah's stage...now!

So how does the game and it's players respond to the implication of homosexuality? By macho thuggery. But when you make it a game of alpha males, you know what you get.

Europa Cup: Fulham vs. Atletico Madrid

V.

UEFA Europa league championships were held yesterday. It is a second tier cup below the Champion's League, which both of these teams were knocked out of earlier in top European play. That is the title that Barcelona were knocked out of last week by Inter Milan.

In the semi-finals of the Champion's League Barça went down after failing to overcome the 3-1 loss of the first game in Milan. Instead, they scored one goal at home but didn't overcome the deficit of the week before. 2-3 cumulative. Bye-bye champion's league.

Those hopes were slashed months ago for At. Madrid and Fulham. Excellent teams of European play's second tier, they had to duke it out in London. It was a tough game that showed Atletico's Spanish passing struggle to catch fire. They scored once, only to have the English side answer about seven minutes later. Then the tough winds blew and the ball stayed away from the goals. Hesitation from Atletico's strikers, though they had lot's of opportunities. My boy was talking about Eto'o playing for At. Madrid... That would be badass.

They went to overtime, and played an additional 30 minutes, looking half-haggard. At the 118th minute, one of the Atletico plays finally broke through their place of frustration. Score. They celebrate--the Madrid supporters ecstatic as the English fans begin to re-sharpen their fatalism.

All the drama unfolding in interrupted bursts from the heavily broken down feeds to the game; it's hard to watch football on the internet. The games--the marquee ones at least--are so hyper-protected by UEFA copyright holders that any signals which are uploaded are quickly pulled. This equals: Finding a good signal, consistently refreshing the page as it fails, then finding a back-up feed in the inevitability that the previous channel collapses. Repeat. Repeat.

This was a long game, so hosts weren't ready to broadcast the OT. It was murder to watch. Tense. For the players, supporters, commentators, and the poor scum at home trying to watch the game for free.



Rolling Stones, 'Connection'