Author, book doctor, raker of muck

David Henry Sterry

Tag: Tim Howard

David Henry Sterry Talks US World Cup Soccer in Omaha

To listen click here.

world_cup_0711_01 Japan-fans-006 world_cup_0711_04

USA Crashes & Burns as Ghana & Africa Live to Dance Another Day

USA.  Ghana.  South Africa.  With ex-President Bill Clinton, rock star for the ages Mick Jagger, and newly crowned NBA champion Kobe Bryant among the approximately 1,000,000,000 watching, the dreams of a nation collided headfirst with those of a continent.  America was hoping that the glass slipper slid on and fit perfectly, and that they would be belle of the ball, dancing from the Sweet 16 into the Elite 8.  Ghana was the last hope of a continent that in hosting this event for the first time in history, hoped to show the world the new face of Africa, steeped in tradition, but evolving into the new millennium.  USA brought massive momentum following their death-defying last-second escape from Losers to Winners against Algeria.  The Black Stars of Ghana were most recently beaten by Germany.  The last, and only, time these teams met, was in the World Cup four years ago.  Obviously many of the players, and the venue, had changed.  But for Landon Donovan, Tim Howard, Clint Dempsey and many of the stalwarts of Team USA, they wished to wash down the bitter taste of that tainted defeat, when many on the team felt they did not step up and grab the moment by the throat as they should have, and they were robbed by yet another diabolical and dastardly referee’s decision.  But all that was ancient history, as America and Africa squared off.  Winner lives to fight another day, loser crawls home with their tails between their legs to a depressed nation.
American fans were praying to the soccer gods that their team would not dig themselves another premature grave from which they would be forced to claw their way out.  Many were dismayed to see that Ricardo Clark, who looked so slow at the beginning of the England game, had been inserted into the lineup by coach Bob Bradley.  And sure enough, Clark tried to dribbled past a physical, feisty Ghanaian.  That may work back in the States, but not at the World Cup.  Ricardo got stripped bare, left naked clutching at then air.  Prince Boateng attacked the American goal like a hungry lion smelling blood.  Again looking like they’ve been heavily sedated, the American defense did not react quickly enough.  As the shot rolled in slow-motion toward a suddenly statuesque Tim Howard, the hearts of American soccer fans plummeted, plunging perilously as a sick sense of déjà vu froze their souls.  It seemed almost impossible, but America had somehow done it again.  Fallen behind practically before the game had even started.  But there it was.  The ball in the back of the American net.  The scoreboard read: Ghana 1 – USA 0.  There’s a certain kind of person who cannot function until they are under extreme threat.  At first you think it’s an accident.  But when you see Team USA cut their own fingers off over and over again, it begins to seem pathological.  You want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them.  Like that would help.  You want to send him to therapy.  Like that would help.  Then you realize there’s really nothing you can do.  It’s their problem, and they have to figure it out, all by themselves.  Just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.
Like a kid who gets unexpectedly bitch-slapped, America looked stunned.  Passes weren’t connecting, tackles were clumsy, heads not quite on straight.  Ricardo Clark, trying to make amends, rushed in with a rash, hacking tackle.  Yellow card.  The defense looked too easy to pry open.  And when Altidore finally did get a chance, he snatched at it crudely, instead of taking it smoothly.  At the half-hour, Coach Bradley proved what a big man he is, and admitted he was wrong.  He brought in Maurice Edu and took out Ricardo Clark.
At finally, in the 35th minute, Ghana’s defense revealed its own weakness.  Dempsey found himself cruising in at the top of the area.  He threaded a gorgeous pass right into the path of new boy Finley.  And there it was, staring him right in the face, the beautiful open goal.  All he had with slide t into the opening.  The only things stopping him were: 1) Ghana’s large and most excellent goalkeeper, Kinston; 2) His own ability to seize the day and write his name in the history books.  Sadly, from America’s perspective, he was able to overcome neither of these obstacles.  The golden rule in soccer, as pundit Alan Black reminded us recently is, “You have to take your chances.”  Ghana did.  America didn’t.  It was that simple.
Then, as happens so often in soccer, and indeed in life, in the flash of a blink of the wink of an eye, Ghana had gone from the attacked to the attacker.  Jay DeMerit, as he is want to occasionally do, swung mightily at a ball and completely whiffed.  And there was Ghana, barreling in on Howard.  This time T-Ho represented, pulling off yet another world-class save.
Suddenly it was halftime, and if you were an American fan, you were wondering if you had already used up your last Get out of Jail Free card.  You can only cut your nose off so many times before you spite your face.  Alcohol was consumed in mass quantities by Americans everywhere.  For in their hearts they believed that this team was a new incarnation of the Cardiac Kids.  Never give in, never give up never say die.
Sure enough, after another great substitution by Bob Bradley, and barely a minute in, Feilhaber has a wide open look at goal.  But his heavy first touch prevented him from going down in American history.  And again, Kinston was huge in the Ghana goal, and once again he saved the day.  But this seemed to spur team USA on, and they started pelting Ghana with everything they had.  Chance after chance they created, but Africa is last Hope proved how big, skillful fit, fierce and physical they really are.  Still, they did look ripe for the plucking.  Of course the more you put out up front, the more exposed you are in the back.  And this is what makes single elimination World Cup soccer so exciting.  Because every time Ghana came streaming up the field, it looked like they would score.
And then finally it happened.  Clint Dempsey made good.  With a beautiful little flick of the tip of his boot, he skated by the center of the Ghana defense, only to be scythed down with cruel brutality.  Up stepped Landon The Man Donovan, looking for all world like a gunslinger in an old-fashioned Western.  As a nation held its breath, Donovan did what he does.  Scores big goals.  Admittedly, with perhaps an inch and a half to spare, but in the record book, it won’t show that this penalty bounced off the inside of the post before going in.  History will record that Landon Donovan became the leading goalscorer in America’s World Cup history.  USA 1 – Ghana 1.
USA seemed transformed, and if you watched carefully, you could actually see their balls growing by the moment.  They started winning 50/50 balls.  Defending with sharp hardness instead of tentative anxiety.  Ghana’s cage looked rattled.  And suddenly, Altidore was fed the kind of pass that had been largely absent in this game.  But again, he did not seize the moment, and his heavy touch betrayed him.  He put the ball too close to the massive Kinston, who came out and extinguished the fire.  Then he stroked through a very nice pass to Michael Bradley, who was having yet another splendiferous game, clogging up the arteries defensively, and moving forward with dangerous alacrity.  Bradley couldn’t quite score, but you sensed that it was coming.  In the 80th minute, Altidore went off on another of us crashing runs, held off the clutches of the Ghanaian defender, and had a clear-cut look at goal.  Problem was, he was tumbling at the same time, and it just wouldn’t fall right for him.  In some ways, this is the story of the game.
By about the 85th minute, most American fan stopped breathing.  An eerie silence settled over the entire country.  They were hoping that the ball would be rifled into the Ghana net.  And praying the sanctity of their own goal would not be violated.
As the overtime started, USA looked confident, as well they should have, considering they were much the better team in the second half.  But of course, this is Team USA.  Just when their fans feel good about their team, and about themselves, they stick their heads in the toilet and flush.  A simple looking ball up the middle of the defense, two American defenders against one Ghanaian attacker.  Sluggish, lumbering, uncertain, DeMerit and Bocanegra were undone, and the next thing anyone knew, the ball was whizzing over Tim Howard’s head, nearly ripping a hole in the back of the net.
Heads fell into the hands, eyes rolled up in heads, and disgusted sighs flew out of American mouths.  They’d done it again.  It’s as he if they were Pavlov dogs, and hearing the referees whistle to begin play, had been conditioned to fall sleep.  Ghana 2 – USA 1.  If you were an American fan who saw the glass as half empty, you were thinking: America had finally gone too far, betrayed themselves once too often, all was lost, failure inevitable.  If you saw the glass as half-full, you were thinking: Well, now we’ve got them right where we want them.
They ran, legs weary, they hustled, hearts exhausted, but Team USA had put themselves under the gun once too often.  Suddenly there were but 15 minutes remaining in America’s World Cup.  Unless, of course, there was one last rabbit to be pulled out of one last hat.
Sadly, there was not.  Try as they might, and they did try mightily, USA could not overcome their own inability to start games, and to take chances when they created them.  And in the end, they could not overcome Africa and Ghana.  Yes, America can certainly hold their heads high.  They showed they can play.  But they were also, in the words of Landon Donovan, “a bit naïve.”  At this level, in the galaxy’s hottest spotlight, you cannot test the soccer gods too often.  Eventually, if you lean hard and long enough on your own sword, you will fall upon it, and you will perish.  American fans will thank this plucky underdog of a team for all the amazing heart-palpitating thrills.  Just as next time around, in 2014 in Brazil, they will demand more.

Glorious World Cup on Huffington Post: Can USA Beat Ghana? Yes, We Can! Here’s How…

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-henry-sterry/can-usa-beat-ghana-yes-we_b_625048.html

Donavan Leads America to the Promised landon – Glorious World Cup on Reuters

http://blogs.reuters.com/soccer/2010/06/23/donovan-leads-america-to-the-promised-landon/


Birthday Boy Gets Severe World Cup Fever, Sex Worker Literati at Bowery Poetry Club & Essential Guide to Getting Published


Today is my birthday. I’m going to have very good pancakes and go see Henri Carter Bresson photographs and then some kind of spectacular meal and see some kind of spectacular theater. As I look back on May and forward to June there’s been so much done yet so much to do that my head spins. We finally got to the top of the mountain of The Essential Guide to Publishing a Book. The book is now in the hands of our incredibly excellent copy editor at Workman. It was a long excruciating climb through massive blizzards temperature dropping way below zero no sleep migraine clusterfuck headaches the closer we got to the less oxygen there was our Sherpas fled, and of course we’re hauling it 2 ½ year-old with us. Sadly, we lost a man. Milo didn’t make it this time. But he gave it his all, 110%, right til the very end. Given the proper burial and if there’s any justice, he’s up in Cat Heaven chasing that wind my, basking in the sun, frolicking in fields of catnip. But luckily, we have an incredible team at Workman, and we are planning a spectacular tour of these great United States, helping writers get well published.

The Glorious World Cup: A Fanatic’s Guide, kicked off, and the team has had a very bright beginning, lots of thrusting offense, some brave defending, and massive amounts of daily grinding. My partner in crime, San Francisco literary legend Alan Black, has been hacking and slashing all over the soccer blogosphere and set up a bunch of kick ass events in the Bay Area. Meanwhile, in my hometown of Montclair New Jersey, at my way awesome local book emporium Watchung Bookstore, we had a rocking soccer event as well. And here’s the beauty of both my new hometown and doing events at your local independent bookstore. I just happened to run into an expatriate Englishman who just happened to be purchasing a book. Turns out he works for Reuters, the international news service. Turns out he was looking for an American perspective on the world cup. I sent him something. He told me I needed to dial it back by approximately 42%. I did. And there it is, alive and kicking. We also had a piece of Arielle-related good fortune. She hooked us up with National Public Radio’s Weekend Edition. They asked us if we would like to be interviewed about the World Cup. We said yes. So on Thursday, through the miracle of modern technology, will be interviewed from Washington DC, with Alan in Berkeley, Ca, and myself in Montclair, NJ. I also put up a series of predictions for the World Cup which are extremely fanatical. The response has been amazing. I’ve been called everything from a fag to a genius, and I’ve made a new friend from Uruguay. And there it is, that’s the beauty of the beautiful game. So were going to San Francisco to do a bunch of soccer events. The big day is June 6. Three events I’m very excited about.

Major changes afoot with the Sex Worker Literati. We decided to move the show uptown. And by uptown, I mean the Bowery. Tres excited about our 1 year anniversary show at the legendary and absolutely fabulous Bowery Poetry Club. I just couldn’t think of a better place. Although I loved Happy Ending, it was just so tiny, and there was no stage. Now, the gloves are off. Throbbing music, wild stories of sex & $ from hard working hos, hustlers, call girls & rent boys, bumping burlesque, ribald questions and answers, I’m slightly dizzy with the possibilities. My most excellent new friend Zoe Hansen will be my cohost with the most. We’ll be taking the summer off, and having our 1 year anniversary extrvanganza in September. Details to follow. Audacia Ray will be continuing at Happy Ending Lounge, with a show entitled The Red Umbrella Project: http://www.redumbrellaproject.com/. This Thursday, totally psyched about my last Sex Worker Literati at Happy Ending: Passing and Coming Out, with amazing guests, Cameron were, Randy Newton, Sarah Jenny, and special guests from RentBoy.com, which has been much in the news recently due to some crazy political sex shenanigans.

Also, there’s a very cool event on Saturday, June 6, Sex Worker Cabaret. I had to drop out of the lineup, because of the events in San Francisco. But it’s a great great lineup, and I’m sad I won’t be part of it. http://www.sexworkercabaret.com/

Sex Worker Literati:
Thursday, June 3, 7:30 PM, 302 Broome St., New York City
Hos, Hooker, Call Girls and Rent Boys: http://bit.ly/afCbkh
Sex Worker Literati Facebook: http://bit.ly/a9HBw1

The Glorious World Cup:
Thursday, June 3, 7 PM, Green Apples Books, 506 Clement St., San Francisco (I will not be at this event, I will be doing a Sex Worker Literati that Happy Ending in New York City)
Saturday, June 5, 10 AM, NPR’s West Coast Live, Ferry Building, Embarcadero, SF
Saturday, June 5, 3 PM, Borders Books, 400 Post St., SF: http://bit.ly/bkTDrl
Saturday, June 5, 8 PM, Edinburgh Castle Pub, 950 Geary St., SF: http://bit.ly/9nF45r

(A goal will be built, and the public is welcome to take your best shot and try to beat yours truly, who will be manning the goal and talking a lot of smack)

The Glorious World Cup: http://bit.ly/ahXLPi
The Glorious World Cup Facebook in Korea: http://bit.ly/9WnpwC

Huffington Post piece: American Manhood from Mickey Mantle to Landon Manchild Donovan, and Why America Can When the World Cup: http://huff.to/c4OEri

Digital Sports Daily piece: http://bit.ly/cd9IE8

Largeheartedboy: http://bit.ly/cvnlLe

Glorious World Cup Predictions
Group A: http://bit.ly/b9DGs
Group B: http://bit.ly/ba99lC

Group C: http://bit.ly/bcqBFJ
Group D: http://bit.ly/bHMxnO

Group E: http://bit.ly/9Oy2sT
Group F: http://bit.ly/cn4xsW

Group H: http://bit.ly/bHKcPQ
Group G: http://bit.ly/b3wXnE

Final: http://bit.ly/949YrC

BEA pictures: http://bit.ly/ansbev
Olive: http://bit.ly/cyy4oH, http://bit.ly/9x0VCE, http://bit.ly/bLfwb4

The Glorious World Cup Presents: An America Soccer Fanatic’s Predictions for South Africa 2010 : Group C

GROUP C: YES: USA & England NO: Algeria & Slovenia
June 12, 2010. USA versus England, the imperialist colonizers who taxed us with no representation. 60 years to the day after the greatest American sports upset you never heard of. 1950, World Cup, Brazil, long before information could fly around the world at the speed of light, a ragtag group of plucky, scruffy unknowns went up against England, the self-proclaimed "greatest soccer team in the world". No one gave uber-underdog Americans a ghost of a chance against the pampered, privileged, pedigreed professionals. How little the world has changed. England boasts a cavalcade of superstar millionaires with beautiful wives and girlfriends, some of whom their own teammates have sex with on the sly (giving the phrase, "I got your back," a whole new meaning). US is a 66-1 longshot. But mark my words and mark them well, if the holy triumvirate of T-Ho, the fiercely mighty Tim Howard, Clint Eastwood Dempsey, and Landon Manchild Donovan are all healthy, they will smack England down, just as they did 60 years ago. Algeria? Slovenia? Thank you for coming to the dance, better luck next time. And don't think this draw is an accident. The powers that be, and all their money, desperately want America and England to: a) play each other in their debuts with galatic ratings off the charts; 2) make it through to the next round against some weak-ass opponents. All due respect to Alvenia and Slogeria. In fact, there's A LOT riding on the US hosting the World Cup in the near future. Don't be surprised to see self-confessed soccer fanatic President Barack Obama give some serious face time to South Africa this summer.

The Glorious World Cup: A Fanatics Guide is, pound for pound, the funniest book about World Cup 2010 on the market today.

http://www.amazon.com/Glorious-World-Cup-Fanatics-Guide/dp/0451230205

American Manhood, from Mantle to Manchild Donovan & Why America Can Win World Cup 2010

Thanks once again to the Huffington Post for giving me some love. Nice to see World Cup fever is spreading.

http://huff.to/c4OEri

I’m 10. An American boy. When I walk into my first English sweet shop in Coxlodge, the tiny ex-mining village of my ancestors, it’s like entering a strange, exotic parallel universe. There’s candy, but it’s all different: Smarties, Crunchy Bars, Gob Stoppers. There’s newspapers, but they have pictures of naked women in them. This totally blows my little 10-year-old mind. Pretty women with naked knockers right there in the newspaper! What a world! And there, on the counter, is a box full of unopened soccer cards.

My little heart soars as my pulse spikes. Some of my earliest and most exhilarating memories involve my mom rewarding me for good behavior by buying me baseball cards. They’re one of my earliest attachments to a culture that was bigger than me and my family. An identity in the world. A way of defining myself by belonging to American institutions like Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle and the Yankees. These iconic ballplayers are the heroes of my very early Wonder Years. Larger then life figures with extraterrestrial skills and talents you can count on in your hour of most dire need. Men who, even when limping, bloodied and bowed, triumph against seemingly insurmountable odds, and bring glory to you, your team, your tribe, and your country. These cardboard images of the best of the best were talismanic objects that stood for an ideal of American Manhood.

ADVERTISEMENT

Be prepared, brave, noble, kind, help your fellow man and be good to your school, your girl and your mom. So in that little sweetie shop outside Newcastle, I’m practically trembling with excitement as I plunk down my 10p (even the money’s different! big huge gigantic pennies!) and grab a pack. A whole new set of heroes unfolds before me. Bobby Moore, Gordon Banks, Bobby Charlton. I read about their superhuman exploits. The bone-crunching tackles, the rocket laser goals, the humanly impossible feline-like saves.

That’s when I first fall in love with soccer. Later that afternoon my budding romance is consummated with a bunch of local lads playing soccer in the little hardscrabble patch of scabby grass behind a block of industrial flats. Again I’m entranced by this parallel universe I’ve fallen into. These kids are just like the kids I play with back in America, only instead of pretending to be Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle, and Willie Mays, we pretend to be Bobby Moore, Gordon Banks, and Bobby Charlton.

Now I’m 52. An American man. When I walk into my local soccer store in New Jersey, my heart still does a little hop skip pitterpat jig of joy when I see a box full of unopened soccer cards on the counter. $2.50. That’s what they cost now. As I start to open the first pack I have a mad flashback of that Coxlodge sweet shop of my ancestors when this is all it took to make me madly in love with life. To my mom rewarding me for being a good boy by buying me packs of baseball cards. To those Men who were the Olympian Gods of my childhood. At 52 I don’t rip open the pack anymore. Now I savor it. Take my time. As I uncover the first card I’m flabbergasted and gobsmacked. It’s Landon Manchild Donovan, arguably the greatest goalscoring threat America has ever produced. He’s the very first card in the very first pack. It is clearly a sign from the soccer gods. Obviously they’re telling me that Landyman is going to have a huge World Cup. I immediately make him my pre-World Cup favorite to win the Golden Boot for most goals scored in the tournament. If I was a betting man I’d lay a wager on that right now. When I look at the next card I’m both awe and dumb struck, can hardly believe the information my eyes is feeding my brain. It is… Tim T-Ho Howard, arguably the greatest goalkeeper in the world today. Mouth agape, eyes googly I’m like: These are the first two cards of the first pack I buy of 2010 South Africa World Cup soccer cards, are you kidding me? I’ve stated publicly that I think America’s going to win this World Cup. People scoff. Mock. Ridicule. Deride. But I don’t care anymore. I’ve never been able my entire life to muster any kind of religious belief. And I have tried. God, how I’ve tried. I envy those people who can believe in a religion that gives them spiritual ease and peace. A benevolent God, a Heaven full of angels and puppies and unicorns and all the people you’ve ever loved, who come running up to you in slow motion with open arms and hearts when you die. I don’t know why, but from since I was a little kind I believed that we create our own heaven and hell right here on Earth. I’ve never seen any evidence of what an afterlife might be. I believe in science. Matter is neither created nor destroyed. So whatever I am will turn into something else. I’ve just never seen any proof of what that something else might be.

ADVERTISEMENT

But in New Jersey last week when I opened that pack and I was blown sideways by the first two cards being the two hotshot superstars of American soccer, it struck me with a transcendent ecstatic flash that this ridiculous irrational belief I have that the United States is going to win this World Cup gives me great comfort. Sweet solace. Soccer succor. On June 12, against England, our former imperialist, colonialist oppressors, USA opens their World Cup 2010 in South Africa. Join me won’t you, and dive into the peaceful waters where awaits the blissful baptism of a true Believer. I know the more mojo, hoodoo and juju we can send through the power of our collective will to Team USA in South Africa, the more likely it is for our dream to come true, to see Lando and T-Ho hoisting the World Cup over their heads and forever basking in the pantheon of soccer gods with Booby Moore, Gordon Banks and Bobby Charlton.

David Henry Sterry is co-author, with Alan Black – San Francisco legend and notorious soccer lunatic – of The Glorious World Cup: A Fanatics Guide, featuring internationally renown soccer junkie Irvine Welsh, soccer crazy best-selling author Po Bronson, and the best soccer writer in the world Simon Kuper. A laugh-out-loud ride of a guide for the fanatic in all of us. https://davidhenrysterry.pairsite.com/category/books/

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén