Nutmeg Radio » Pub Talk

Racism Insurance: The Cure to Football’s Problems

Clive Longbottom-Fellow, Esq. — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 15:51:52 +0000

Go overboard with the banter? Not culturally acclimated yet? Have teammates who uncomfortably and mistakenly think they are “down” with the people? Too old and weary of getting caught using antiquated words like “colored” or “boy” at the workplace?

Well, we’ve got a product for you.

Racism Insurance! The empowering, 21st century solution for the casual racist and prolific offender.

I know what you’re thinking. “Brilliant! Tell me more!”

Here’s how it works. You pay monthly premiums for your insurance, just like you would for car insurance. Except, you’ll be preparing for a different type of car wreck.

Pay no mind as we put the premiums into an account for short periods of time, and then bundle the premiums and sell them to institutional investors, who will repeat the process. We’ll worry about all that. No need to worry if there will actually be money on hand to pay out. That’s none of your concern. That’s our promise to you.

So what do you get? Simple. Peace of mind and limited liability.

You’ll know that an innocuous, insensitive slip up will not carpet bomb your life. We guarantee you’ll be able to sleep every night while our team of fixers, schooled in the art of credibility reconstruction, handle those who need to be handled. We know exactly who to confuse and how to confuse them. Accused of making a racist remark? We’ll march out a team of appropriately colored people to prove you’re no racist. In no time you’ll have black grandparents (which presumably, at least in one-drop countries, means you have a black parent), cousins, friends, co-workers, and, if need be, even a loose affiliation with a former rap group’s backup dancers. Your street cred will never be higher. For a small additional fee, we also provide dance lessons.

But there’s more!

No more cowering or biting your tongue. Liberate yourself, knowing you can drop as many “black c*nts,” “camel jockeys,” or other wildly creative slurs as you want. All because of the peace of mind that comes with your new racism insurance. Picking up a five match suspension? Well, flash your insurance card at your hearing, and don’t remember to flash those pearly whites for the paparazzi on your way out! We’ve already worked out arrangements with several top leagues. We have a crew of immigrants on stand by in various countries who will step in and serve suspensions while you continue playing!

Need t-shirts printed with your face and the word “free” on it? We have partnerships with some of the most progressive and stylish child labor camps in the world.

All this, for the same low premium!

So how do you get started? Great question.

Step 1: Shop online for a plan that fits your level of racism. Employers can subsidize costs if they have particularly problematic players. That’s right, group rates are available for both club teams and national sides! But this can be affordable for individuals as well. How will you know if this is the product for you or an employee? Start by asking two simple questions: (1) “When enraged, how low is [insured] likely to go on the verbal abuse scale?” And don’t be shy! (2) How much damage will being called a racist do to your career?

Step 2: Enter your information.* Your rate is not final until we receive a complete application. You will need to provide us with:

Every address since you emerged from the womb.
Native language
Additional languages (including level of proficiency)
Nationality
The names and numbers of every person of not your color in your cell phone.
The last 10 albums you’ve bought, and the percentage of lyrics you have memorized.

*Obviously, none of this information will be used in calculating your premiums.

Step 3: LET THE VERBAL ABUSE BEGIN!

The benefits are clear. No more stressing about saying how you really feel during those intense, intimate moments.

Product not available in Somalia, Luxembourg, and certain parts of Boston.

Coming Soon: Prone to slander the ladies? Enjoy the occasional Andy Gray/Richard Keys moment? Sick of not being able to oppress on the fly? Of course you are! Well you will enjoy our sexism insurance, hitting the market in 2Q 2012. Job security while belittling others is back, and better than ever. It’ll be just like the 1950s all over again.

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Nutmeg Radio Stuff Elsewhere

Miriti Murungi — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 15:54:18 +0000

Right.

There’s been some Nutmeg Radio-related stuff that’s done gone up elsewhere in recent times. Perhaps you’re not on the Twitter. Perhaps you just don’t care. And all that is fine. But, if you do, well, then I’m here for you.

Today, we joined forces with The Shin Guardian, a fantastic blog that primarily focuses on the game from a US soccer angle. The words over there take you on a journey into the future of US soccer. I know you’re all wondering what it’s going to be like. Well, go on, find out.

A while ago over at Run of Play, I wrote some words about Arsene Wenger, kung fu movies, and poisoned rice. You can find The Legend of Arsene Wenger at the excellent The Run of Play here.

Last, but certainly not least, I scribbled some things for The Free Beer Movement’s Why American Soccer Series. The series aggregates folks from the US soccersphere and shares their thoughts on US soccer. My contribution is semi-personal, but more about perspective, something that I believe is oft missing from our sporting conversations. Have a read.

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The Joey Barton Chronicles: Part II (The First Stop)

Miriti Murungi — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 14:12:00 +0000

The sun was setting as Joey Barton approached the outskirts of Cordoba. He had been pushing Pardew pretty hard over hundreds of kilometers of challenging terrain. Ten hours, he figured, was enough. And ten hours of relative isolation away from all that was familiar was becoming a greater challenge than he initially envisioned. It was time to get into some trouble.

As Pardew rounded what seemed like an infinite number of bends in the road, Joey spotted a building in the distance that resembled a weathered petrol station, possibly with restaurant capabilities. His brain told him that this was where he needed to stop.

As he closed in on the outpost, he began to make out two petrol pumps. He could tell from the dilapidated state of the pumps that the only petrol he would be getting at this retired petrol station would be made of dust clouds, and despite Pardew’s advanced age, Joey’s beloved motorcycle was not capable of running on dust. The petrol would have to wait.

Several cars were parked outside the station, which made Joey exhale, relieved that he could end the monotony of the last couple of hours. Joey figured, at a minimum, that he could poke his head inside to find out where to lay his head for the night from the locals. And now that he thought about it, a local watering hole wouldn’t hurt either.

Slowly pulling into a narrow gap between a Fiat and an old, faded Chevrolet painted in Argentina colors with its rear axel propped on cinder blocks, he couldn’t wait to dismount and stretch his legs. But as he got off of Pardew, he hesitated and began wondering about the safety of his few belongings, unsure if the few, vital possessions meant to sustain him over the next few months would be safe if he ventured inside.

“Your things will be fine.” The voice came from behind him. Sitting against the one of the petrol pumps was a mulleted gentleman. The mullet helmet, as Barton’s childhood friend, Kevin Nolan, would describe it, framed a face that he noticed was young, but experienced, as if it had several hundred games under its belt. It was a face wise beyond its years.

“Thanks,” Joey replied. “How is it inside? The place looked deserted but now that I’m out front, it sounds like there’s quite the party inside.”

“Always a party here. It’s a local scene, but you’ll get a chance, as long as you don’t act big-city important. This is a simple place.”

Joey was computing, processing whether he should simply accept the situation at face value. But he soon realized that he was bringing his big city paranoia on the road, something he swore he would try his best to leave behind. He had determined right before he left home that he was going to give himself completely to his journey, and this was his first test.

“That’s not me,” Joey replied as he moved towards the mullet. “It may have been before, but not anymore.” He extended his hand to the first person he had spoken to in probably twelve hours. “Joey. Joey Barton, comrade.”

“Pleasure, Joey. I’m Cesc. Cesc Fabregas.”

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Jurgen’s Corner: Analyzing the Coach’s First Day, Unnecessarily Reading Between the Lines

Clive Longbottom-Fellow, Esq. — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 16:31:18 +0000

About week ago, we learned that Bob Bradley, the U.S. coach since 2006, was being unceremoniously retired from his position by USSF President Sunil Gulati. Apparently lots of people on Facebook “liked” that. The fact that Bradley was being fired was expertly hidden by the Federation. No one had the scoop. But the shock didn’t last long. Soon thereafter, speculation was rife about who would be the next leader of a men’s national team that has been growing in popularity and profile over the last few cycles.

Enter the guy who everyone thought would be the guy. Jurgen Klinsmann. He’s German.

This past Monday, the perpetually reserved Gulati introduced a nervous-looking Klinsmann to the world as the new U.S. men’s national team coach, the first foreign manager to lead the team in sixteen years.

Klinsmann’s attire was as expected, a light-blue button down shirt without a tie, expressing, “I’m serious, but not THAT serious,” and a dark suit that said, “I am a dark suit. I mean business.” He had the look of a coach being presented at a press conference.

The German’s walk to the podium was standard. Although he only had to walk a few steps to deliver his opening remarks, there were a few notable moments that deserve some attention.

First, Klinsmann was not limping. That definitively shows that he’s in good health, or at least has the mental and physical ability to pretend that he is healthy. That’s a good sign. We all want to know that injuries won’t prevent him from doing his job over the next three years.

Second, Klinsmann did not fall. That would have been embarrassing and would have started things off on the wrong foot. Pun not intended.

And then there were the remarks, which I won’t cover here.

All of this raises a fundamental question that no one seems to want to address. How do we know that Klinsmann isn’t a German spy?

Klinsmann has a great cover story, an American wife, American children, an American home, and American language. But let’s not pretend as if we haven’t seen that one before. I’d go into detail, but that would require too much time on Wikipedia. And let’s be honest, you feel the same itch I do.

The point is, before we gave this fellow the keys to the car, the Federation should have publicly released Klinsmann’s tax records, birth certificate(s), places of worship, acquaintances dating back to the fourth grade (or whatever fourth grade is in Germany; I believe it is called vier grade), his wife’s maiden name, his parents’ Kenyan address, the results of his drug tests, his position on stem cells, abortion, and global warming, and his socialist writings from when he was 17 years old.

With all the “brilliant” questions asked by these so-called journalists at Klinsmann’s unveiling, one simple question was shockingly absent from the record. That is, who are you really, Mr. Klinsmann, and what do you want with our team?

Fine, that’s two questions.

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The Joey Barton Chronicles: Part I (The Decision)

Miriti Murungi — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 15:08:41 +0000

It’s 1999.

Fresh out of medical school, a young Joey Barton is pondering life’s big questions. Using his medical degree is important, but he feels a higher calling. Shaped by legends of freedom fighters, Joey knows that the pursuit of a conventional medical practice would leave him feeling empty. So he decides to fix his rickety motorcycle and cruise around South America. There is no itinerary, no ultimate physical destination. Joey’s destination is a spiritual one. The goal is to find his place and to align his moral compass with his training, and ultimately to discover an inspired direction.

Joey’s 596cc, single-cylinder Norton motorcycle was left by his friend Kevin Nolan when he went to go seek his fortunes as a pirate off the coast of East Africa. Joey spent his first few months with the bike exploring old mines near his family’s farm house. Mines were always important to Joey. As a teenager, he found the solitude of abandoned mines the ideal place to reflect on his place in the world.

Contemplating life, an activity usually reserved for people much more advanced in age, came naturally for Joey. From a young age, he was never like his peers. While acquaintances like Grant Wahl were focusing on more conventional teenage endeavors, Joey preferred to lose himself in the popular uprisings that were sprouting up around the world. Ironically, revolution was his sanctuary.

But now that Joey was finished with his medical training, he faced an adult decision, one that he knew, at some level, would define the rest of his life.

Two weeks of working on his motorcycle – affectionately named Pardew, after an old teacher who bounced around from school to school – finally culminated in a functioning vehicle that he believed would be capable of enduring months on the challenging South American terrain.

It was time to become a man. It was time to find the real Joey Barton.

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Unsexy Soccer Moments: Broken Shoelace

Clive Longbottom-Fellow, Esq. — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 13:04:43 +0000

Juan Agudelo in training prior to the MLS All-Star Game.

Agudelo: “Damn. My shoelace just broke.”

Equipment Manager: “I’ll grab another.”

(Equipment manager grabs an extra shoe lace. Agudelo decides to just put on another pair of boots.)

This has been a unsexy soccer moment, brought to you by Nutmeg Radio.

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MLS All-Star Game featuring Manchester United and Stephen Colbert

Clive Longbottom-Fellow, Esq. — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 12:01:08 +0000

www.youtube.com/watch?v=UaQsdYg4ejM

Manchester United will be playing the MLS All-Stars on July 27 at Red Bull Arena. This is the second consecutive year that the English Premier League giants will be crossing the pond to face MLS’ finest. It will be a high profile match in one of the league’s premier soccer-specific venues.

A game of this stature, that will surely feature some of the world’s best players, deserves a halftime show to match.

In American sports, we are used to over-the-top productions from prominent artists during All-Star Game halftime shows in the NFL and NBA. The basic, underlying concept is that these games are entertainment, and during a lull in action, nothing entertains more than the biggest names in music performing their hits with a backdrop of lights, explosions and North Korean-inspired choreography. MLS should consider following the lead of America’s most successful sports leagues.

So obviously, my suggestion for a halftime show during the MLS All-Star Game is Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Fallon and The Roots performing Rebecca Black’s smash hit “Friday,” even though the game is on a Wednesday.

A game of this stature deserves a performance of equal stature. This should happen.

It’s Monday.

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Freedom! Your All-Braveheart Team

Miriti Murungi — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 19:06:41 +0000

Attitude. Stubble. Warrior. Braveheart.

Pretend for a moment that William Wallace managed a soccer team. After signing on the dotted line and facing the media to discuss his transition from freedom fighter to manager, one of Wallace’s first tasks would be recruiting an army, one, presumably, that would reflect his, shall we say, brave spirit.

But what type of player would Wallace pursue?

Wallace, like any manager, would surely consider a player’s technical ability. But there are more important traits than technique in William Wallace’s world. Ultimately, it’s a player’s heart that would convince him to loosen the purse strings. But heart isn’t always an easy thing to measure, especially when you’ve spent the majority of your adult life roaming the countryside without access to the internet and all of a sudden come face-to-face with a bloated transfer market. So a back up plan is necessary.

Thankfully, there is a relatively uncomplicated alternative. When the measure of a player’s heart can’t be easily ascertained, an easy out is to unearth players who look like they have heart. Said another way, a shortcut to assembling a team of Bravehearts is to target players who might be cast, at a minimum, as extras in Braveheart.

So, shortcut it is.

With the help of Sean Rubio (@elecseanica on Twitter), we’ve pulled together a starting 10 for an All-Braveheart team. Why starting 10, you say? Simple. Because a team of Bravehearts has no need for a goalkeeper.

Let’s get started with the unveiling of the team.

Braveheart is synonymous with warrior, or at least in this case, warrior-looking. That makes it pretty easy to select Andy Carroll as the William Wallace of this epic team. Like Wallace, Carroll left home as a youngster under unfortunate circumstances. Unlike Wallace, however, Carroll left home for £35 million and only went as far as Liverpool. Carroll has the physique to lead a team into the heat of battle, and over the course of his short career has shown an appreciation for the finer aspects of grooming (except here). Whether he returns home to take what’s rightfully his remains to be seen.

Rumor has it Carroll yelled, “Freedom!!!” upon leaving Newcastle. That’s very Braveheart of him. Andy Carroll, Team Braveheart’s #9.

Respected around the world for his exploits on the field, Argentine sharpshooter Gabriel Batistuta would easily fit into the Braveheart cast, and likely would command a speaking role. Batigol may not be a nickname you would associate with a rugged member of the All-Braveheart team, but a quick glance above at this shirtless, hairy wonder with a fine head of hair suggests otherwise. Batistuta is the first of several Argentines to join the squad.

Ariel Graziani rounds out the front line of three on the All-Braveheart team. The Argentine-turned-naturalized-Ecuadorian turned out for his fair share of clubs, but may be best remembered in the United States as Landon Donovan’s strike partner with the San Jose Earthquakes. Graziani was no stranger to goals in MLS, but it’s also clear that he was no stranger to fantastic shampoo and conditioner. Bravehearts know hair, and Ariel Graziani is no exception.

Very few managers in need of steel in the midfield would overlook former Italian international Mauro Camoranesi (another Argentine by birth), a warrior who always seems to seek out physical contact. His medium-length, flowing hair and intimidating play will clear the path for other Bravehearts with long, flowing hair and intimidating play. That’s what All-Braveheart is all about.

Emmanuel Petit probably has a collection of swords and shields in his den. One of the only two naturally blond Bravehearts in the starting 10, the Frenchman was always up for a fight. But it’s the mane that makes him irresistible. If that’s not Braveheart, I don’t know what is. I know what you’re saying, “A French Braveheart?” Absolument! Manu is your quintessential braveheart, tough in the tackle, and with pretty hair that he’s not afraid to get dirty. Or bloody. Sophisticated off the field, Manu was quite the opposite on it, creating a terrifying midfield partnership at Arsenal with Patrick Vieira. Arsenal could use a little Braveheart these days. Remember Cesc’s hair when he came to the club? Shame. A little Braveheart guidance could have remedied that.

Hamish Campbell, Wallace’s certifiably insane lieutenant, meet Robbie Savage. If Hamish was alive today, he would definitely be a quality sidekick alongside Savage on BBC Radio 5 live’s 606 Football Phone-In. Rugged, yet never one to neglect his hair on the field, Savage’s warrior spirit makes him an All-Braveheart midfield lock. Savage also has a value-add that other members of the team don’t. He can interview opponents after they are destroyed. I’m referring to the ones who are still alive after games, of course.

Every army needs warriors with seemingly never-ending reserves of energy. Adept at galloping up and down the flanks and pillaging opposing sides, the lanky, yet inconspicuously powerful Jonas Gutierrez will be plying his trade as an All-Braveheart fullback. Yes, it’s another Argentine. It seems like Argentina grows Bravehearts on trees. It must be all the meat and chorizo, staples for aspiring Bravehearts. After several years jaunting up and down the pitch for Newcastle, Gutierrez has shown that he the positional flexibility, stamina, facial stubble, and mane to be a fixture in the side for years.

A ginger Braveheart? Indeed. In fact, it’s a shame there’s only one. American defender Alexi Lalas is perhaps the only Braveheart that really doesn’t need an explanation. Just Google him if you don’t already have the visual in mind for some bizarre reason. Actually, just click here. Yeah, that happened. It’s almost as if he took that picture with advanced knowledge of the All-Braveheart team.

Really fortunate attacking players who are able to penetrate the Braveheart midfield will probably wish they hadn’t once they run into Mario Yepes. A Colombian, this AC Milan defender is no Argentine. But before heading to Europe, he played in Argentina for River Plate, which is perhaps where he first contracted Braveheart. Just look at him. A combative figure with long hair, Yepes is the member of the back four who will yell “La libertad!!” when it’s time to pick up the team, which will be helpful since Andy Carroll’s Spanish isn’t the greatest. As you must have noticed, Spanish is the language of choice in the Braveheart locker room.

Taking great care to track attacking players and frequently engage in trickery is the stuff of Bravehearts, which makes the brave Frederico Balzaretti exactly the right man to line up opposite Jonas in the back four. Up close, Balzac isn’t the most physically imposing figure, but that’s nothing the cameras can’t fix. Balzac, at least when groomed properly, has the look (from afar) of a warrior. And when it comes down to it, if the cameras can turn Robert Downey Jr. into a physically imposing fighting machine, Balzac can be a Braveheart.

Substitutes

Sotirios Kyrgiakos: Although he isn’t Argentine, the Greek international and Liverpool defender is our kind of Braveheart. Why? See Jonas Gutierrez above and replace everything Argentine with Greek things.

Marcelo Balboa: This American defender could easily slot into the back four. Together with Lalas, this pairing just might have been the greatest Braveheart defensive pairing of all time.

All-Braveheart Starting X

Batistuta || Carroll || Graziani

Savage || Camoranesi || Petit

Gutierrez || Lalas || Yepes || Balzaretti

Did we miss any Bravehearts?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SA43V6HNLBo

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The Anti-Xavi Interview with Robbie Savage

Welcome to the National Soccer League

Clive Longbottom-Fellow, Esq. — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 19:27:19 +0000

The NFL is dying. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. For decades, the National Football League has been the big draw in American sports. Team owners rarely worry about losing audiences as they are well aware that the general public has been reared on a steady diet of American football and, therefore, is conditioned to need it. We need American football like we need reality television and super-sized portions of anything resembling food. That’s what they think. The smugness floating around the owners projects an unwavering confidence that their iron grip on the throats of the American sporting audience will continue into perpetuity. But the NFL didn’t see this coming.

Welcome to the National Soccer League (NSL), the new, North American soccer league poised to take over where the NFL has slipped. To call this a magical moment in the world of sports would be a massive understatement. This is going to be epic. People are probably going to get injured just from the press releases.

We’ve grown accustomed to young children growing up idolizing players with million dollar contracts who make cameos on primetime television, parade around town in pre-packaged, heterosexual relationships and consistently make bad decision after bad decision. The only surprise, really, is that these people don’t make more bad decisions. Chad Ochocinco, Terrell Owens, Tony Romo, Plaxico Burress. All muscular super-athletes to the untrained, lazy eye. But to the trained eye, these players are everything that’s wrong with American sport. They teach us to value the superficial, leaving the vulnerable masses to face the wilderness without any guidance in the quest to answer life’s major questions. How do the kids know what religion to choose? And how do players survive under this kind of pressure? I ask myself these questions all the time. But no more. The NSL will change all that and everything else you ever thought you knew about sports and role models.

The NSL will be a 25 league team, with teams based across the United States, Canada, Mexico and Haiti. Although the game is soccer, the game will probably be better described as soccer 2.0, an evolved, more sophisticated version of the world’s game. Unlike the NFL and Major League Soccer, the ball used will alternate between an American football and a soccer ball. The game, however, will always be soccer. Same rules, give or take 15-49; same spirit.

One of the hallmarks of the league that will distinguish it from anything else you’ve seen is that every team must be sponsored by a religion or political party. NSL Commissioner Obadiah Farquar believes that “this unique characteristic will foster an element of interfaith dialogue and political reconciliation that has yet to be seen in world history.”

Farquar continued, “The league will entertain, but will also teach our kids that the only way to settle religious and political disputes is through free and fair competition. The NSL will drive that point home.”

Since the league will be the place to settle all of life’s great debates, the players will be free from the burden of being role models. To ensure that the players don’t get into anything responsible, the league will provide all the right incentives for the players to focus on entertaining. For instance, players will be encouraged to bring semi-automatic weapons on the sidelines. Philandering, encouraged. Littering, ditto. Following our players will be like reality television, but if you want a lesson in morality, all you’ll have to do is check the scoreboard to find out, for instance, which religion or political party is winning. Chanting, “Scoreboard, scoreboard!” will no longer just be about the score; the scoreboard will tell us which side of a debate is right and which side is wrong.

The NFL owners and players will rue the day they decided to take the fan for granted, but fans will ultimately thank them for giving the NSL the opportunity to flourish. We hope you enjoy the ride. It will be a bit bloody, but then again, what epic struggle for the hearts and minds of our youth isn’t?

Nutmeg Radio » Pub Talk

Racism Insurance: The Cure to Football’s Problems

Nutmeg Radio Stuff Elsewhere

The Joey Barton Chronicles: Part II (The First Stop)

Jurgen’s Corner: Analyzing the Coach’s First Day, Unnecessarily Reading Between the Lines

The Joey Barton Chronicles: Part I (The Decision)

Unsexy Soccer Moments: Broken Shoelace

MLS All-Star Game featuring Manchester United and Stephen Colbert

Freedom! Your All-Braveheart Team

Welcome to the National Soccer League

Test Your Maturity Level with This BBC Arsenal Video