Book 30: Soccer and Philosophy

Soccer and Philosophy: Beautiful Thoughts on the Beautiful Game

Edited by Ted Richards

With the women's World Cup currently underway in Canada, I figured that now was as good a time as any to grab Soccer and Philosophy. Having read the series installment about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I had an idea of what to expect: a surprisingly successful blend of serious philosophy and pop-culture passion. This is, much to the editor's credit, precisely what the book delivers, with very few exceptions. Ted Richards balances a healthy number of heavily academic papers with more casual offerings, increasing the book's appeal to a broad audience; indeed, the myriad references to soccer's most famous personalities, teams, and games may provide a greater barrier to entry than similar references to philosophers or particular schools of thought. This sense of purpose and passion, combined with a sensible thematic organization, results in an academic book that is welcoming and remarkably readable, particularly considering the inherent complexity of many of the ideas explored within.

Whether by editorial direction or their own benevolence, most of the contributors manage to introduce and engage serious philosophical inquiries without overwhelming the uninitiated or resorting to condescension. Their universal appreciation of soccer is evident throughout their work, and the book is doubtless better for it. One senses that each chapter is, in its way, a labor of love, and numerous references to personal experience serve to humanize and illustrate concepts that are otherwise entirely abstract. It is clear that each author plays, watches, and thinks deeply about the beautiful game just as their audience does, and it is a pleasure to examine it alongside them. This is, perhaps unexpectedly, most evident in the biographies that follow the primary text. To say that they are wildly entertaining would be a tragic understatement, at best, and if this is the philosopher's idea of a serious academic biography I fear that I have chosen the wrong field.

Intended more for philosophically minded soccer fans than for those who don't understand the appeal of a game with so little scoring (and not infrequently none at all), the book rewards close reading and consideration even in its drier moments. Plenty of famous thinkers, from Plato to Nietzsche, make cameo appearances, often in several different chapters, and the net effect is to render philosophy accessible to readers who may identify first and foremost as sports fans. Neither lightweight nor impossibly obtuse, the book examines such weighty concepts as the role of the individual and state in determining and enforcing the law, the literally revolutionary impact of the Magical Magyars, and the ways in which soccer reflects the entirety of human experience and, in its way, life itself. In seeking to answer the most basic and most complex questions about our engagement with this of all sports, Soccer and Philosophy offers an engaging experience for fans who want to dig deeper, to question the obvious, and to share their appreciation for the beautiful game.

Grade: A

Book 15: Coming Out to Play

Coming Out to Play

Robbie Rogers

As someone who is independently interested in LGBTQ issues and soccer, it seemed only natural that I should read this memoir by Robbie Rogers, the first openly gay male athlete to play in one of the United States's five major professional sports leagues. I knew little about Rogers coming into the book, save that he had temporarily retired before coming out and subsequently joining the L.A. Galaxy, and it was interesting to get inside the head of a successful professional athlete, although the book does its subject few favors in the end. It is difficult to discern how much of the tone- which, for its many faults, is at least consistent throughout the book- should be attributed to Rogers and how much belongs to his coauthor, Eric Marcus. Nonetheless, I found it to be somewhat defensive and surprisingly maudlin, to the point where I felt little sympathy for Rogers despite understanding much of what he went through as a closeted gay person in the 1990s and early 2000s.

Unsurprisingly, much of the book is devoted to standard memoir fodder, which is handled more or less adequately. It's exactly the sort of story you'd expect, an obviously well-off kid growing up in an area where he could nurture his obvious talent, forging the kind of professional connections that served him well afterward. The blockquote passages from his mother and sister are a bit too frequent and too long, taking the focus off of the obviously shy subject but magnifying his reticence, yet the book's sections about faith and family provide many of its most poignant and emotionally resonant moments (though the latter are few and far between). Rogers has a tendency to rely on platitudes, particularly when discussing the process of coming out and the subsequent attention he has received since doing so, but they are harmless and largely humdrum. Overall, the book gives the impression that it simply had to be written because of Rogers's monumental achievement, and even if it doesn't set the world on fire it does at least offer a comforting tale of a paranoid, closeted gay man coming out to find an open, loving embrace from all quarters. Its base narrative is somewhat rote, but none the worse for it; what sets the book apart is its constantly apologetic, overly paranoid tone.

It is, of course, appropriate that the book should dwell on Rogers's overwhelming self-doubt and the intense negative impact it had on seemingly every aspect of his life, both personal and professional. I don't fault the authors for making these emotions a central part of the book; to the contrary, I applaud them for at least attempting to rise above the tone of constant joyous celebration that can leave those of us who struggle(d) in similar situations feeling woefully inadequate. That is not, however, to say that the book offers a particularly pleasant- or even a particularly edifying- reading experience. Rogers's story feels real, but the editorial decision to make the negativity so inherent to the book's central voice results in a rather unpleasant reliance on on repeated and redundant complaints. The memoir may offer a realistic portrayal of Rogers's shifting emotions, but its constant defensive tone and ceaseless apologies tend to undermine the concluding message of hope and acceptance.

I hate to be so negative about the book, and it is somewhat refreshing to see a celebrity memoir that so honestly confronts its subject's deepest fears and faults. I can't imagine it was anything but agonizing for Rogers to confront the hyper-masculine world of professional sports on a daily basis throughout the formative years of his life. The book comes agonizingly close to meaningfully confronting some important issues, such as the distinction between those who use homophobic language and those who are actually homophobic (Rogers reports that many of the players who would casually employ the familiar epithets are now among his biggest supporters), but in his eagerness to please Rogers largely squanders his opportunities to place his experiences in a larger societal context. His perspective is certainly interesting, and valuable, and I have no doubt that the book will do a good deal of good for teenagers who (like myself at a younger age) might relate to much of Rogers's story. Regardless, even brutally honest memoirs such as this one must strike a balance between deification and demonization, a balance that this book fails to achieve. Coming Out to Play is an honest look at the inner turmoil that plagued a pioneer gay athlete, but the relentless focus on that turmoil makes it a rough and repetitive reading experience that casts its subject in an unnecessarily negative and shallow light.

Grade: B-

Book 12: The Numbers Game

The Numbers Game: Why Everything You Know About Soccer Is Wrong

Chris Anderson and David Sally

While I've found these aggressively contrarian statistical investigations into aspects of modern life to be somewhat hit and miss, I saw no obvious reason not to at least try The Numbers Game when I found it sitting on a shelf at the library. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, I found it to be a hit and miss volume itself, offering both the clever insights and egregious oversights (to say nothing of simplifications) I've come to expect in this type of book. Its basic framework is, as usual, fairly solid: Anderson and Sally are clearly keenly aware of what they are doing, leaving little room for doubt with their frequent references to the history of analytics-fueled Moneyball in various sports, but take less overt, annoying glee in their counter-intuitive findings than some of their more insufferable peers. Their book flows at a reasonable pace, and their findings likewise pop up in a sequence that not only makes sense but also allows authors and readers alike to build on insights implied by previous statistics. There is a narrative here, despite some of the more standalone aspects of this kind of work, and the authors' propensity to keep the big-picture story in mind during each of the book's many brief investigations ensures that it is accessible despite the math that drives it. Moreover, Anderson and Sally seem to strike a decent balance between getting lost in the statistics and interpreting them for readers (like myself) who haven't seen a regression analysis since high school.

It is, however, somewhat unclear whether the authors occasionally ignore their obvious knowledge of soccer in the pursuit of a particularly contentious claim. Despite their success in generating and maintaining the readers' interest, however, they are sometimes liable to fall into the familiar traps of corollary/causation confusion, and self-importance that plague their peers. Many of their calculations and resulting insights revolve around the typical binary win/loss system that soccer so uniquely avoids with the prevalence- and relative importance- of the draw. Though the authors do investigate some aspects of draws, they seem to ignore this third possible match outcome entirely at points where it appeared to me to be particularly relevant. Likewise, I was disappointed to find that the authors (and a former goalkeeper among them!) so casually dismissed the importance of high goal totals without even considering the implications of the goal differential as soccer's first-tier tiebreaker over competitions with multiple legs. Championships, relegations, and participation in continent-wide superleagues are routinely decided by those games where teams got or conceded what turned out to be a pivotal 4th or 5th goal, as irrelevant as it may have been (statistically or otherwise) within the context of the game at hand. That said, however, the authors' investigations of the relative importance and weight of goals were easily some of the most interesting, and relevant, parts of the book.

More pivotal, however, is the book's various treatments of what proves to be its central question (even if it is unacknowledged as such): is it better to play to win or to play not to lose? Anderson and Sally tackle this question from a variety of expected and unusual angles, eventually leaning toward a defensive-minded mindset (again with the goalkeeper's influence, no doubt) that they acknowledge is far from a hard-set rule. In doing so, they provide an interesting framework that spectators might consider when watching their favorite (or most hated) sides on and off the pitch, but do so without being excessively dogmatic or smug. Though the book is certainly susceptible to the usual pitfalls of its genre, the authors show a great deal of respect for their subject by weaving relevant historical facts into their narrative and providing examples from a variety of eras, countries, and leagues.

Some pitfalls, however, cannot be avoided, and one gets the sense that the authors do indulge in a fair bit of hand-waving throughout the book. As a rule, it lacks true transparency, and I'm not completely convinced that all of the more random-looking scatterplots do, in fact, indicate the trends the authors try to draw out of them. I left the book convinced that Anderson and Sally should have made more of an effort to explain the statistical methods behind their findings and conclusions, and that they possessed the skill to do so without bogging down the narrative or overwhelming their less scientifically inclined readership. The book may not be condescending, but inquisitive readers couldn't be faulted for wondering whether it might have been a bit more open to scrutiny from statisticians and laypersons alike. That said, however, the book is still a highly readable look into the potential implications of advanced analytics on a sport that may be even more hopelessly mired in tradition than the peers who have already embraced the revolution. The Numbers Game may be a product of its time and genre, but it will yield interesting insights to those readers who are willing to embrace analytics with a certain grain of salt.

Grade: B

Book 31: Finding the Game

Finding the Game: Three Years, Twenty-Five Countries, and the Search for Pickup Soccer

Gwendolyn Oxenham

Out of college in her mid-twenties, Gwendolyn Oxenham, her boyfriend, and two friends set out to discover how soccer, the game she loves, connects communities around the world beyond the lights of the Premier League and the World Cup. During her journey around the world, Oxenham documented the group's attempts to find, and participate in, pickup soccer games and other non-professional matches. While her love of soccer and her appreciation of the game's ability to unite people across language and cultural barriers are evident throughout, Oxenham occasionally lapses into preachiness or misplaced self-congratulation. The book can't quite decide whether it's an exploration of the global nature of the game or a travel/self-discovery memoir. While both of these elements sometimes coexist in harmony, there is often a tension between them as the writing whips back and forth. The writing is sufficient and the passion more than enough to sustain the story as the group proceeds through its many adventures, both expected and, well, less so. From initial disappointments in Trinidad and Argentina to surprising success on the rooftops of Tokyo, Oxenham and company chase the game, but throughout much of the book there's a feeling of emptiness as the travelogue eclipses more meaningful analysis. The chapters on Iran and Israel stand out for their brilliant combination of straightforward storytelling and examination of the political ramifications of their journey. While hopeful activists praise soccer's ability to unite disparate Jewish and Palestinian communities, Oxenham witnesses a more complicated situation on the ground as sides of each ethnicity meet on the field but ultimately leave in their own isolated pockets. In Iran, the situation is more tense as the group must weather the tensions that plague any Americans visiting the country, let alone a group intent on mingling with anyone and everyone, despite the warnings and discouragement from the official tour guides. Readers will be drawn to Oxenham's obvious appreciation for soccer and for the entertaining stories of her round-the-world trip, but those hoping for Finding the Game to present a deeper examination of meaning may ultimately be disappointed.

Grade: B

Book 10: Soccernomics

Soccernomics: Why England Loses, Why Germany and Brazil Win, and Why the U. S., Japan, Australia, Turkey- and Even Iraq- Are Destined to Become the Kings of the World's Most Popular Sport
Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski

Well, with a title like that, the authors are certainly making quite a few promises, aren't they? First of all, there's the direct allusion to Freakonomics, and the book certainly lives up to its predecessor's legacy, promising to shake up the World As We Know It but ultimately offering some suggestions born of both common sense (don't put your club on the revolving manager carousel) and heavily massaged, selectively applied data. Though Soccernomics does fall prey to many of the same pitfalls as its namesake, however, it is a worthwhile and interesting read, if not consistently engaging or as promising as its title suggests. More frustratingly than the nod to Freakonomics, perhaps, is the promise that herein lie the secrets of future United States dominance of international soccer- a point that is touched upon in the book's concluding chapter, sure, and alluded to throughout, but which becomes almost an afterthought, an inexcusable oversight when its promise comprises 21(!) words of the book's title. This ending actually becomes laughably anticlimactic, and illustrates how the authors, including a far-too-disappointing Simon Kuper, fail to adequately navigate through their sometimes interesting data, often interesting anecdotes, and insights intriguing and silly alike. After explaining their idea of examining soccer through data, they turn to a particular case study, England, in a move cleverly designed to appeal to their core audience. Though this makes sense in a way, and illustrates several aspects of the game that can be studied through data analysis, the chapter contains several allusions to later segments and ultimately feels out of place, particularly as the remaining chapters focus on specific trends or other aspects of the game, such as club teams and international teams.

Worse still, the authors fall into another trap executed so elegantly by their inspiration, and seem to be driven by a desire to prove points rather than to look through their data and see the revelations. This type of book celebrates the counterintuitive, and while that's admirable and, in many ways, often accurate, some bold assertions aren't so bold after all. Is it truly revolutionary to presume that, as European know-how spreads throughout the world, once averse nations such as the United States will warm to soccer? Moreover, the authors base large swaths of their analysis on a self-serving circle of proof. When studying the relative success of different nations, they swear by a metric that takes population, income, and number of international games played- and then use it to prove that those three variables account for success. Why those three, particularly when problems, such as the fact that nations in a weaker federation such as, say, the AFC, play each other more often than the European giants or Brazil? Sure, the United States underachieves based on these factors, but data cannot explain everything. And yet, maddeningly, though the authors acknowledge this, they routinely undercut their data with subjective analysis, which is fine if you're basing your conclusions on the data but which does not induce much confidence when data is supposed to reign unquestionably supreme. Perhaps, then, what the book proves is that, though numerical analysis might help fans understand soccer more thoroughly and help clubs or countries perform more efficiently, the world cannot be understood solely through anecdote or data. This anticlimactic realization on the part of the reader, coupled with the authors' inept organization, ignorance of their book's own title, and repetition of certain points, makes Soccernomics disappointing, perhaps not surprisingly.

Grade: B-

Book 39: The Ball Is Round

The Ball Is Round: A Global History of Football

David Goldblatt

This ambitious book attempts to provide a complete and nearly universal history of soccer, an appropriate book to turn to during the World Cup. Goldblatt begins with the origin of kicking games throughout the world and traces the development of association football from its first codifications in 19th-century Britain to the spectacle and glamour of today's most popular Premiership sides. More importantly, Goldblatt not only acknowledges but also draws significant attention to the development of the game in various countries and regions, although coverage outside of Europe, Latin America, and Africa is slim to virtually nonexistent. Goldblatt does, however, seek to put soccer in a wider historical context, and indeed this sport-specific history could successfully substitute for a more comprehensive history of the world (or at least Europe, South America, and post-World War II Africa). It is in establishing and exploring the connections between soccer cultures and the greater arcs of history that the book shows its greatest strength, as the body of the work supports the author's initial thesis that separating the world's game from the world's history would ultimately prove a fruitless pursuit.

Despite clocking in at a hefty 900 pages, it is clear that The Ball Is Round could easily suit both devoted history buffs and more reluctant soccer fans. The writing is clear and avoids excessive political or literary rhetoric, allowing enough small moments of humor to keep things interesting but (apart from an extremely excessive use of the word "ludicrous") rarely succumbing to or exulting in its own cleverness. The obvious exception to this notable- and welcome- restraint is in the well-intentioned asides that chronicle important matches in the game's history. It is here that Goldblatt chooses to (attempt to) flex his literary muscles, and often they prove almost hilariously ill-constructed. Full of quite unnecessary flourishes, these match reports often fail to illuminate both the particulars of the match in question and its wider importance; thankfully, the supporting text is usually sufficient to fill in the gaps. Apart from these missteps, however, the book is remarkably readable and accessible both to longtime fanatics and newly minted fans. Its heft ensures that it is not for the faint of heart- nor is it a casual introduction- but the book is almost pathologically thorough in chronicling important figures and developments in world soccer. An impressive achievement that straddles the line between academic information and pop culture history, The Ball Is Round should prove satisfactory for those fans who want to dive headfirst and deeply into the history of the world, as experienced through soccer.

Grade: A

Book 61: Giving the Game Away

Giving the Game Away: Football, Politics, and Culture on Five Continents
Edited by Stephen Wagg

As part of my extended preparation for the World Cup, and nicely coinciding with the draw for the 2010 competition, I picked up this book while searching for a soccer encyclopedia to browse for my reference class. This book is, as the title suggests, a study of the history of the development of soccer and how it has been adopted and adapted culturally throughout the world (Australia is, despite the title, included along with the other populated continents). The book is a collection of geographically oriented essays, often authored or co-authored by Wagg himself but by various regional experts as well. The book begins with an examination of soccer in its own heartland, the British Isles and, though a bit uneven in its writing it provides a good grounding for the general history of the development of soccer. Developments throughout the world often depended on British exporting of the game through migrant workers and, naturally, colonization, and Britain provides a relatively stable template for development in other countries. Another chapter of particular interest for its discussion of the following for soccer is the chapter on the United States, now out of date but providing an excellent perspective from fifteen years ago, just before the now-successful MLS got off the ground. This chapter not only examines the history of soccer in the United States and Canada but posits several reasons why it has not been as readily and thoroughly accepted as it has been throughout the rest of the world. Thus, its being out of date actually enhances its interest and makes it useful to current readers living in the age of the reemergence of United States football and hoping against all hope for a good result against England in Group C.

Chapters on European soccer quickly devolve into lists of the dates of establishment of various national leagues and note particular teams while containing occasional bits of interest, including notes on the effect of Soviet rule in Eastern Europe and of the adoption of the Confederate flag by various Southern cities along the Mediterranean. Likewise, the essay on soccer in Asia is written without much authorial interest, it seems, and is rather dry. Most enlightening and interesting are chapters on soccer in Africa, Latin America, and the Middle East, perhaps because these regions are most foreign to me but also because of their writing. The chapter on Africa suffers a bit by focusing so directly on Zimbabwe, which has since devolved into an absolute nightmare, but provides a great contextual view of the social significance soccer has had in Africa, particularly as a post-colonial and racially charged activity. Wagg's own chapter on soccer in the Middle East is likewise fascinating due to the ideological distance of these countries from readers in the United States (or Britain, for that matter) and especially in light of recent political developments. This chapter's view of soccer as heavily charged political expression showcases the effect that sports and team affiliations can have, and how they may reach far beyond the game. These insights go beyond soccer and into psychology and sociology without straying at all from the subject at hand; they enlighten in their thoroughness and invite further exploration.

The best essay by far is is, perhaps unsurprisingly, Maurice Biriotti Del Burgo's "Don't Stop the Carnival: Football in the Societies of Latin America." From start to finish, the chapter is entirely engaging, perhaps due to the explosive nature of soccer in Latin American cultures. Far from simply reciting interesting dates or naming the best teams of Brazil, Del Burgo explores the relationship of soccer to particularly Latin American ideas of the individual, nation, and religion. This essay, more than any other, ties the development of soccer firmly to developments of ideological and cultural expressions. The essay, like some others, will be more comprehensible and useful to readers with some grounding on the history of soccer, but anyone interested in the culture of Latin America or interested in the dominance of Brazil will benefit from reading it.

The absolute excellence of the book's top essay does, however, paradoxically highlight the primary fault of the book; though its focus is consistent throughout and each are of the world is represented with a significant block of text, the essays are wildly uneven. Certain differences in writing style are to be expected of course from a book with multiple contributers, but the varying citation style (if citations are even used in a given essay) and use of "soccer" instead of "football" make the collection more difficult to read as a comprehensive view. The concluding chapter and its reflections on the World Cup of 1994 makes interesting observations but its focus on Brazil repeats material and sentiment from the aforementioned regionally-based study. Certain chapters focus much more on dominant teams of the past than on cultural development, and the shift in focus prevents the book from presenting a sense of a comprehensive view of the world's soccer culture. While it is overall a noble attempt and has aged rather gracefully, Giving the Game Away is best read for its standout pieces and by readers particularly interested in one area or another; it simply is not consistent enough to provide a strong backbone for a lay reader's knowledge of soccer across the world.

Grade: B

Book 56: Love & Blood

Love & Blood: At the World Cup with the Footballers, Fans, and Freaks
Jamie Trecker

After a fully depressing (but fully brilliant) novella, I decided to turn to soccer, a game about which I long to know more about and which I find very interesting in the international social context. Conveniently, I discovered this book, which is even more topical due to the current ongoing World Cup qualifyers heating up, with only a few slots left to fill. Trecker's homage to the supposed pinnacle of soccer is produced throughout with funny, incredibly readable prose that seeks to contextualize soccer in the globalized environment as well as being a travelogue of sorts recalling Trecker's journey to the World Cup as an American reporter with high-access Swiss credentials. Trecker does a great job balancing fact, analysis, and anecdote in this volume, which will appease soccer fans while remaining inviting to those who don't know much about the sport. Trecker largely stays away from soccer's slang terms, explaining thoroughly those that are necessary, and continuously aims to describe the tensions and emotions of the world's tournament with a keen eye towards an American audience. Love & Blood maintains a careful balance between explaining the recent (and not-so-recent) history of American soccer with due attention to the Rooneys and Zinedines who light up stadiums around the world.

The book itself can get a bit choppy, purporting to talk of the 2006 Cup in general while sliding into a more general discussion of the sport, returning again to Germany as if nothing had happened in the interim. There is a bit of reader whiplash but the informal nature of the book, while making the story of 2006 a little hard to follow, makes Love & Blood a fun read and underscores the author's credibility as a true fan. Trecker's passion for the sport is obvious across each and every one of these pages, and his exploration of the lack of American passion remarkably stays away from a chastising or despairing tone. Love & Blood is eminently fair to its American readers and seems a labor of love; the prose gets informal but the analysis stays relevant and interesting. It is obvious too that Trecker has put a lot of thought in to the deeper issues he explores, which include the effects of increasing commercialization, rising club dominance, and even troubles within FIFA. Complete with his often hilarious observations and anecdotes concerning the 2006 World Cup and its German hosts, Love & Blood takes great steps to contextualize the world's biggest sporting event from an American perspective, remaining respectful and entertaining throughout.

Grade: B+