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June 27, 2006

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels!!!!!!!!!!

Nuremberg witnessed the most disgraceful game of the 2006 World Cup this past Sunday. Given that FIFA’s mottos are A Time to Make Friends and My Game is Fairplay, no peace pipes were being smoked that afternoon, nor was sportsmanship to be seen. What could have been a game of skill and talent quickly became a WWE match, goons and droogs coming out of the woodwork, and a referee who needed to take charge of the game before letting it escalate into a fiasco.

Valetin Ivanov should have issued a red card, instead of the yellow, to Boulahrouz for his cleat digging into Cristiano Ronaldo's thigh. After watching the match again, it is hard for me to believe that it was a purely coincidental hit. Granted, soccer can get very physical yet, that leg was nowhere near the ball in play! I will not go as far and say that it was done as a prime directive from van Basten, but why resort to such tactics. That call pretty much set the tone for the rest of the game. Yellow and red cards flew, never letting the teams build any momentum to take the game to the skill level it should have had.

Going into the match, I had been worried about Portugal's ability to beat the Dutch, as they had a strong showing in the group stage. However, both the Clockwork Orange and Portugal disappointed me. Portugal were no saints and I don't entirely blame them, as I think their frustration got the best of them, but Figo, come on! What was with the head butt with van Bommel! You should thank your lucky stars Ivanov was such a horrendous referee and didn't give you the red you deserved for unsportsmanlike-like conduct. Not to mention the other incidents of churlish behavior from both sides. That game was an embarrassment for both the Netherlands and Portugal and will be remembered more for the their respective histrionics than for the moments of brilliant play.

Ivanov where were you? Were you on that pitch with the rest of the officials? The game was never really in your control and instead of preserving the sense of fairplay, allowing the game to be played in its purest form, you created an environment of escalating tensions and violence.

***** ADDENDUM*****

See the following AP article for a report on the Refereeing in the World Cup.

Posted by eva on 8:46 AM

June 21, 2006

Big Softie

Turns out big bad New Yorkers aren't as terrible as they think they are! According to a survey done by Reader's Digest, New York is one of the most polite cities, beating out London, Moscow and Toronto. Courteousness is not always the first trait associated with Manhattanites, as they are portrayed as gruff, wise-cracking tough guys and the first to give the one-finger salute, whereas the Londoners are more likely to be perceived as urbane polite and well-mannered. Granted, New Yorkers can have their moments, and could easily tell you off for any minor infraction of the unofficial New York City Code of Conduct, but for the most part, they are excellent ambassadors for the city that never sleeps.

Posted by eva on 11:39 AM

June 7, 2006

Play Doh

Once upon a time, my days were punctuated by designated snack times, recesses and naps. Play Doh was a fixture, like Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. Play Doh’s tactile nature made playtime a mini-adventure, as I was never sure what would materialize after stretching and plying. One day, I would make a dog, the next, something reminiscent of Dali’s melting timepieces. In that moment, the dough and I were one, creator and creation, coexisting in that space, and then, instantly, destruction came and something else would arise from my kneading hands.

Nowadays, words are my new Play Doh. This new medium has unending possibilities. Everyday, my vocabulary expands, fattening the gargantuan lexicon that resides in my brain, enriched constantly by my exposure to new languages and different authors. As I write, I experiment with structure, composition and sound; I test myself, seeing how far I can go before my own internal editor comes out with red pens blazing, ready to wreak havoc upon my modest little scribbling. Little phrases will pop into my head, which insist on their fundamental right to exist on paper, wanting to become a reality, instead of an ephemeral fluctuation in my brain.

This cerebral manipulation can produce moments of brilliance, yet there is always room for improvement. A sentence can be tweaked, an adjective lost, a semi-colon added; in essence, it exists in a constant state of flux, dependant on a writer’s impulsive whim, nipping one idea in the bud, and nurturing another, through extensive weeding and pruning, until this idea blooms into a glorious blossom that lives for a while, and then slowly fades, as other flowers come to take its place.

So maybe I can’t hold words in my hands and stretch them out into wild and crazy shapes, but they provide my brain a new means of creative expression, where anything can happen, where a crazy idea, with the right amount of guidance and diligence, can become something unique and memorable.

Posted by eva on 10:54 PM