Pondering Penalties aka PK-47

Roberto Baggio Missing during the Penalty Shootout won By Brazil to decide the 1994 World Cup Final at the Rose Bowl.
David Batty missing during the penalty shootout won by Argentina in the 1998 World Cup round of 16 in Saint-Etienne, France.

As suggested in the comments of this excellent discussion of penalty alternatives here; the most realistic adjustment to the way soccer games are decided may well be moving the spot back from which penalties are taken.

Currently, penalties are taken from 12 yards out. The goalkeeper, technically, must remain standing on the goal line until the shot is taken. In reality, it should be next to impossible for a world-class player, particularly the strikers and midfielders who primarily comprise the first 5 chosen for a shootout, to miss; which, by a wide margin, they do not.

One study, summarized here, revealed that 82.7% and 84.6% of all penalty kicks during shootouts were converted at the Copa America and European Championships, respectively.

Mostly, one can imagine, the only reasons for missing such easy shots are intertwined: nerves and mistakes. Tellingly, the same study reveals that on the biggest stage, the World Cup, the conversion rate is only 71.2%. Adding further support for nerves being the biggest determining factor, the conversion of sudden-death kicks-those taken after the first five have been shot-is 64.3%, as opposed to an average rate of 80% for the first five kicks.

If kicks were taken from farther away, such as 18 yards away at the edge of the box or further, goalkeepers would have more time to make a save, fewer shots would be converted and more skill would be required. This method might have the added benefit of encouraging more attacking play during extra-time as teams might be more prone to go for goal if they knew that penalties were not so easy to convert.

While there is some merit to the method Major League Soccer used at its infancy, namely allowing players to run at the goal from 35 yards out, simply moving the spot of the penalty farther away should be sufficient to bring some balance to the battle between goalkeeper and striker while still maintaining the insane drama and quick resolution that the current format provides.

What's most important is that alternatives to the current penalty shootout are being discussed more frequently. Sepp Blatter himself is on the record as wanting a better solution to World Cup games. As shootouts determine more and more big events, the clamor for change will only increase.

The Fickle Foot of Fate

The rain now fell in great torrents over the Luzhniki Stadium's pathetically poor pitch. John Terry's normally spiked hair hung flat against his head as he approached the spot for his penalty kick. He fiddled with his captain's armband as he readied himself to deliver the first European Cup in Chelski's less-than-proud history. Earlier, a cocky Cristiano Ronaldo has paused twice in the run up to his P.K., handing Petr Cech the easy save and allowing Terry to capture eternal glory with the fifth and final shot of the first round of penalties.

As he struck the ball Man.U.'s Edwin Van der Sar dove to his right, leaving an almost entirely empty goal for Terry, who then sadly slipped on the shoddy surface and slotted it to his own right where it banged off the left goalpost, harmlessly. Now it was on to sudden death kicks. Anderson and Kalou banged their home safe. Ryan Giggs came on and successfully converted his kick in a game in which he broke Sir Bobby Charlton's club appearance record, in this, the 50th anniversary of the Munich Air Disaster of which Charlton himself was a survivor. The crowd behind the goal, fortuitously enough the Man.U. end, roared with new life. On came Nicholas Anelka, the mercurial mercenary brought on to Chelsea this past January from Bolton Wanderers. His shot, to his left, was a decent one, but it rose no higher than waist level, allowing van der Sar to stretch every inch of his 6'6'' frame to and punch the ball away to safety.

Ronaldo, saved from despair, buried his teary face into the grass. Terry, sobbing now in raw heaves, remained on the pitch, inconsolable. ESPN announcer Tommy Smyth incorrectly hung the blame on Terry and labeled it a 'terrible miss.' The fact was that the pitch was an utter embarrassment and wholly unfit to host a match of such magnitude as evidenced by the countless players treated for cramps throughout the match and the numerous slips and divots.

Terry had played magnificently throughout the match. In extra-time Patrice Evra had burst through Chelsea's penalty area and dropped the ball back for Giggs has he fell out past the goal line. Giggs, with Cech far to his right had sure victory in front of him. But Terry had raced back and stood on the goal line, and somehow, someway, twisted his neck to head away Giggs' sure winner. After the match Chelsea Chelsea assistant manager Henk ten Cate revealed that had Didier Drogba not been sent off in extra-time for a foolish slap to the face on Man.U. defender Nemanja Vidic, it would have been Drogba, and not Terry taking the final kick.

As scintillating as the shootout was, ultimately it remains unsatisfying. Man U. were undoubtedly the better team in the first half, with at least two quality chances on goal after Ronaldo's spectacular header in the 25th minute. Chelsea were undoubtedly the better team in the second half, relentlessly attacking, twice hitting the woodwork, but Man.U.'s rear guard of Ferdinand and Vidic repelled time and time again. Fantastic as it was to see Man.U. cap off a thoroughly entertaining season by defeating their current most bitter rivals, there has to be a better way to crown a champion.

Basketball games, particularly, big ones, often come down to nailing free throws on possession after possession for the team that's up late. In football, the efforts of the real team often come down to the foot of some random dude who doesn't practice with the team and who can just as easily be kicking for the other team the next week. It's funny that for all the ink that's spilled (hmm, that sure is one hell of an outdated phrase) in the NFL offseason on the skill positions of QB, WR, RB and DB, next to nothing is said about the weirdos whose feet will decide more than a fair amount of games. Does Thurman Thomas send Scott Norwood Christmas cards?

So at least soccer is decided by the stars on the field. And there is no doubt that a penalty shootout is one of the most nerverackingly entertaining experiences one can have watching sports. But it's a contrived excitement, sorta/kinda how the one-and-done nature of March Madness makes games that would ordinarily be uninteresting utterly captivating. Seeing as how everyone involved admits the shootout is a lottery the alternatives are worth looking at.

-Returning to the old method of replaying the game a few days later. This would certainly be epic, what if it took weeks to crown a winner? Logistically a nightmare, and these days difficult to pull off considering fixture congestion. For example, many of the players on the pitch last night will be pulling on their boots again in just two weeks for Euro '08. This remains, however, the fairest option, more fair than playing extra-time.

-Exchanging set pieces such as corners or free kicks 25 yards out. Under this format, teams would take turns taking corners and free kicks. The defending team would have its turn at a corner or free kick once it is able to clear the ball past the half-line following the offensive team's corner of free kick. This would be no more contrived than taking penalties and would have the advantage of least involving the entire team playing, you know, actual soccer as opposed to holding a test of nerves. Watching a player curl in a winner from 25 yards out would be a far more beautiful sight than watching a player ram one home from 12 yards out with only the goalkeeper in front of him.

-Removing a player from each team every five minutes during extra-time. Five minutes in it would be 10-on-10, ten minutes in it would be 9-on-9, etc. With the extra space someone is bound to score before it ever got to be 1-on-1, but even if it did get to 1-on-1 it would be worth the zaniness of two players running up and down the pitch exchanging howlers. At first blush, playing 8-on-8 seems silly, but, again, the odds are great that a goal would be scored and at least that goal would come from the free play of the actual game of soccer.

Of course all this hints at the real problem with soccer, the growing difficulty of scoring a goal, particularly during big matches, which is a topic for another post. Without going into the numbers too much, the average amount of goals scored at the World Cup has been falling steadily with every Cup, with the most recent Cup, in 2006 , averaging only 2.3 goals a game. The numbers fall dramatically for finals, with only 1.6 goals per game for every World Cup Final since 1990.

Some might brand this as an ignorant American rant trying to meddle with a game that they don't understand but again, penalties wouldn't be as big a problem if they rarely occurred, but 4 of the last 8 Champions League finals have ended in the shootout while 2 of the last 4 World Cup Finals have ended with PKs.

You Gots to Chilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll....

April Showers bring May flowers. Time for a quiet storm. Let Ernie Isley's seriously sensual riffs soak you in smoothness and drench you in delight.

My Vocals Rip Thru Your Pele-Pele

As time flows wide it happens less and less but there was a time when almost every promising slashing guard with dunking flair was called "The Next Jordan." Remember "Baby Jordan" aka Harold Minor?

A similar phenomenon persists for every young Brazilian with a flair for plopping it into the back of the ol' onion bag. Here's the latest to be compared to Pele, a young G named Pato of AC Milan in action for Brasil this past Wednesday against Sweden. Confusingly, Brasil is in blue whilst Sweden is in yellow.

Just Fix It!

R-Fedz defeated Pete "Bland-as" Sampras in a turgidly-produced, awkwardly battled affair last night at Madison. Square. Garden.- -THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS ARENA!!!! Sorry, still a little out of it from having that phrase drummed into my skull over the entirety of the 3.5-hour broadcast.

3.5 hours! Perhaps you're wondering if such an epic length was because of an epic 5-set back-and-forth tenisgravaganza. Nope, a solid hour-long "pregame" which consisted of an ooooooh-viewing of the Davis Cup, the usual trotting out of Billie Jean King, who later turned out for the opening of an envelope in my office, and painful-painful interviews with the many celebs in the sellout crowd about their favorite Madison Square Garden--THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS ARENA!!!! moment. Nancy Kerrigan, looking eerily like Barbara Bush, mumbled something about all the history, hey did you know there's a show called Madison Square Garden- -THE WORLD'S MOST FAMOUS ARENA!!!-Vault showing clips of when important things actually happened at the Garden?

Remember the '69 Knicks? Remember the '94 Rangers? Remember the '84 Redmen? THEY DO! And they'll keep shoving it down our throats until Wee Jimmy Dolan stops rockin n rolling. AKA FOREVER.

The Tennis itself? -Meh- Clearly the fix was in. Federer flailed at every Sampras serve as awkwardly as Larry David taking a shit in the handicapped stall. He returned every ball right to Sampras like they were in an extended warm-up. There were moments of genuine skill, to be sure, but the slick surface didn't help induce any rallies.

The bigger story here is the proper marketing of tennis. Clearly, as evidenced by the 20,000+ in attendance who paid steep, steep prices, the hunger to watch live tennis outside of the US Open is there. But this production was lousy. Sampras came out to "Superman" music, (sadly, not Soulja Boy) while R-Fedz came out to the "Evil Empire" music. Bluntly, Sampras is an unlikable oaf, clearly the crowd had a difficult time getting behind him, even when he lamely exhorted them with "c'mon, this is not London! I want to hear you New York!" after the 2nd set.

Why shouldn't tennis be structured more like Boxing as they are both sports centered around individual personalities? Leaving the Grand Slam alone, tennis could sure use more 1-on-1 nights like this, just presented better and with more compelling matchups. How about a double-header, Federer-Nadal followed by Sampras-Agassi. Wait, round-robin, winner faces Ivan Lendl. Sponsored by Snapple Sport! Snap it up!

P.S. Ivan "Too hard to Handl" Lendl appeared in every US Open Final betwixt 1981 and 1989.

Why I Don't Eat Wendy's.

DISPATCH FROM DON BIGGDUDA

CLEVELAND YOUTHS, MARVELOUS AND WONDERFUL, LATEST TO TASTE COSBY HATERADE.
(A guest post about Cleveland-related events with a killer coda from Dick Gregory courtesy of Don Biggduda to add a little nutmeg to your Smoldering Theodore)

http://blog.cleveland.com/metro/2008/03/bill_cosby_challenges_clevelan.html

Bill Cosby came to some Cleveland suburb I've never heard of recently and told the black community to do their laundry or something...

Not too much out of the ordinary here. Cosby basically showed up and told everyone to grow up and get their shit together. I don't know why people go to listen to speeches like this. I guess if you have a deeply seeded suspicion that you're doing something really wrong with your life but just can't figure out what, the natural person to turn to is ... Bill Cosby? Aww what do I know. Maybe you'll come out of the thing with a clear understanding of how to sneak a delicious slice of cake while Felicia Rashad isn't looking. Whatevs.

There were however, a few amusing names in attendance. The pastor of the church that hosted the event is named Marvin McMickle (two Micks in one last name - an early St. Paddy's day gift for all). The article also quotes an area man named Homer Gates who dragged his twin sons Marvelous and Wonderful along when a snow storm had caused their school to shut its doors for the day.

Now if only the kids had belonged to the pastor. Cleveland, you unlucky hellhole - you could've been the home address of one junior pastor Rev. Marvelous Marvin McMickle. But that's why you frown the way you do, Cleveland. Bad breaks like these.

Oh yeah, the sports tie in (besides Cosby's lousy 1970 comedic recording "Sports" and the fact that Bill was himself a pretty decent athlete)...

No idea how long this link will last, but there's a excerpt below.

http://sports-boards.net/forums/archive/index.php/t-40548.html

Cosby apparently hated all over Irish OT Dean Brown right before the poor kid's graduation...

"As the commencement speaker at Notre Dame in 1990, Cosby was invited to address the black graduates prior to the ceremony. With a 300-pound frame that helped Brown start at right offensive tackle throughout Notre Dame's school record 23-game winning streak in 1988-89, plus a persona that earned him the moniker "Big Happy," Brown was a conspicuous target for Cosby.
"What's your grade-point average?" Cosby asked Brown, who majored in business and American Studies and was a member of the choir. When Brown responded it was 2.5 (a B-minus to C-plus categorization), Cosby, an outspoken critic of the lack of educational excellence in the black community, shot back: "That's nothing."
He brought Brown on stage to engage in what observers called an embarrassing debate that shook Brown more than any defensive end from Michigan, Miami or USC ever did. As Brown tried to explain the balancing act involved in academics, being part of the nation's No. 1 football program, tending to family needs and extracurricular work, Cosby dug in even more.
"When we left there, (Cosby) said, 'I cannot be party to celebrating any result that has not been part of the very best effort to reach excellence,' " recalled William P. Sexton, vice president of University relations 15 years ago.
For some time, the impromptu meeting with Cosby had a profound, numbing effect on Brown, whose childhood was somewhat comparable to more famous teammate Chris Zorich's impoverished, single-parent background."

In other words, for a comedian, Bill Cosby is quite the disagreeable jerk.
I guess he's also a shitty tipper (http://cityrag.blogs.com/main/2005/10/cheap_celebriti.html).

And speaking of dicks, since the frown has displayed a political bent of late, this one would've spiced up your little Cuyahogan primary right nice.

http://www.blueoregon.com/2008/02/dick-gregory-ap.html
Mr. Gregory still brings the hammer.

That's all for now Cleveland. Smell ya later.

Big Dood

GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-MEN

Well, the G-Men won the day, and I kinda feel like the opening to this video, aka insane:

Another crack-ah!

This move has since been banned . Imagine what Kid N Play could have done.

SURPRISE!!!!!

In absolutely stunning news, the MTA has announced that they are cancelling plans to build "Downtown's Grand Central." The New York Post's Steve Cuozzo has been all over this sad story from day one. No one who has followed the trials and tribulations of post-9/11 construction downtown should be surprised by this news.



But nor is anyone outraged. In today's apathetic political climate, the vast silent majority care nothing for issues big (Iraq) or local (Alan Hevesi winning an election despite corruption charges comes to mind). This allows our elected leaders to get away with doing absolutely nothing. George Pataki slithered out of office last year with Ground Zero still a massive hole in the ground. Nigh on 8 years later shouldn't Pataki be confronted with his colossal failure to build anything, a memorial, something, every single time he shows his face at a public event?



Of course, in New York State, our elected leaders can always pin the blame on our quasi-independent public authorities. It's a fair point, and worth discussing in the future. The main point for now is that $900 million will go down the drain without adding an inch of track to our subways. Dozens of viable small businesses who kept going through 9/11 were evicted, in the name of us, the public, in order to build the grand station you see above.



Now we will likely be left with a subway staircase attached to the side of a massive condo tower sold to a developer at a bargain rate. We all know that the only condos get built in this town. The 7-train extension to the far west side? The 2nd-avenue subway? the LIRR connection to Grand Central? Moynihan Station? The Freedom Tower? A 9/11 memorial?

Could the money earmarked for the unnecessary Fulton St. Hub have gone to speed up the MTA's myriad capital projects that make weekend subway travel confusing and long? We'll never know. And as long as our papers don't make these stories front-page news and as long as they don't ask the simple questions that can shed some light on Albany we'll continue to never know.

What a Crack-ah!

Live the Dream

Sorry America

Wranglers and a Banquet Beer Woulda kept him warm.

Hello America:

Terribly sorry about that game yesterday in Green Bay. The Giants overcame a phantom holding call on that Bradshaw TD. They overcame the collective will of Joe Buck and Troy Aikman. They overcame the collective will of every sportswriter and sports pundit. The Giants have prevented you all from enjoying two weeks of the Hyperbole-HyperBowl. Two weeks of slobbering over Brady's cleft chin, his dreamy eyes and that toussled hair that you just wanna run your hands through before collapsing into the surf at Provincetown, tummies full of chowder and a heart bursting with joy/lust but on the verge of breaking beacuse you know that a beauty like his cannot be contained by one lover, not even in one sportswriter, but it is a beauty that must be shared with the world. A beauty that should be nourished with SmartWater.

Two weeks of slobbering over that eternal 11-year old who snuck onto the field at Lambeau 14 years ago and never looked back. Two weeks of daydreaming about that Peter Pan running around carefree in your backyard in your safe, comfortable gated community, slinging passes in the snow that break fingers whilst clad only in snug wrangler jeans, k-mart boots and a Lee Fogerty shirt. Two weeks of dreaming that you were staring into that dazzling white smile worthy of Lawrence Welk wrapped in a mischevous smirk worthy of Dennis the Menace. That scamp. Two weeks of daydreaming of that eternal 11-year old replacing your own awkward, unworthy and grossly overweight sons who do nothing but sit around texting each other about getting more Mountain Dew and Elio's Pizza Bagels when not playing World of Warcraft or yanking it to Hannah Montana.

Sorry football fans who were looking forward to cheering for the All-American Heartland Pack against Dr. Evil and the Hateriots. Sorry Peter King. Sorry Bill Simmons. Sorry Tuesday Morning Quarterback. Sorry Dr. Z. Sorry Chris Berman. Sorry Joe Buck. Sorry Troy Aikman. Now you gotta cheer for a New York team, for beer that's sold 24 hours a day, for alcohol that's not sold from a state-run ABC store, for booze sold on Sundays, for fast-talking 47th St. Photo and not Best Buy, for San Loco not Chipotle, for a schmear of lox on bagels and for Seinfeld. Sorry if you're resentful over New York City's dominance of the media. Sorry if you just plain don't trust big cities what with their mechanized forms of underground transport where you can't pick up Rush Limbaugh on the AM dial. Sorry the Super Bowl won't be one big Aw-Shucks Dream-White-Boy Circle Jerk.

Hey, there's still Tom Petty at halftime.

Todd "Tank" Pratt & Daryl "Mayor" Boston

Just a Rumor but.......

Post Reports Omar Considering Rickey for First Base Coach....or First Base?

Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllllllllll...........

Yikes!

Reyes Delivers Clutch Hit to Win Game--Wait, What? Only Three Weeks too late.

And Peep Perhaps our Biggest Nightmare for 2007 (besides our rotation and bullpen and hitting)

Welcome to Japan!

Acta Preps on Becoming our #2 Starter for 2007, if not him, who?

One More Night...

Get 'Er Done...

Shook Ones Part II

'Nuff Ced