Scribblings of the Scribes of Sport: The World Is A Ball by John Doyle

The Scribblings of the Scribes of Sport book review series is back! Leave your own thoughts on the book in the comments below, or get in touch with me at andrew_bucholtz@hotmail.com if you have suggestions for other books for me to review!

The World Is A Ball: The Joy, Madness and Meaning of Soccer, by John Doyle

The World Cup is over, but soccer rolls on. North American soccer is in full swing, and things are looking good for Canadian teams at the moment, with Toronto FC finding success in MLS and Vancouver and Montreal both having solid USSF Division II campaigns. There have been plenty of interesting international friendlies, including the Kansas City Wizards' surprising win over Manchester United [The Telegraph] yesterday, and the English Premier League's set to kick off in just a few short weeks.

With soccer, and particularly with major international competitions, it's important to remember that it's about much more than just the results. Sure, we'll remember Spain's victory down the road, but we'll also remember individual moments such as Bastian Schweinsteiger's run through the Argentina team, Luis Suarez's memorable handball against Ghana, Robert Green's "Hand Of Clod" moment in England's opener against the U.S., the French team's mutiny falling out with Raymond Domenech. and Maicon's incredible goal from an impossible angle against North Korea:



Soccer's story goes beyond the field of play as well, though, and that's much of the focus of John Doyle's superlative book, The World Is A Ball. Doyle is an arts columnist for The Globe and Mail, focusing on television, but he's also written about soccer for them for much of the last decade. The book is primarily a chronicle of Doyle's adventures covering the 2002 and 2006 World Cups and the 2004 and 2008 European Championships, but it's a particularly good read because Doyle doesn't limit himself to the on-pitch action. He discusses the atmosphere in each host country, the various fans he encountered and the struggles he ran into with hotels and transportation. The differences between countries and how they embrace the tournament are particularly notable, especially in Doyle's account of the jointly-hosted 2002
World Cup, where the South Koreans got wrapped up in the tournament's excitement while the Japanese quietly waited for it to go away. Dutch, English, Italian and Brazilian fans all are featured prominently, and Doyle's writing gives us a great sense of how the beautiful game is seen so differently by each culture.

Doyle's tales of the various games also remain highly interesting even years after the fact, and I'd imagine part of that is because of scarcity. The scarcity of goals in soccer as compared to other sports tends to make many of the goals memorable, even those that lack aesthetic quality on their own. For me at least, it's far easier
to remember the notable moment of a 1-0 soccer game years after the fact than the crucial goal in a 5-4 hockey game, the most important play in a 28-21 football game or the key shot in a 102-100 basketball game. Those sports have their transcendent and memorable moments too, but not as many.

Scarcity also comes into play on the tournament level. Doyle's book covers almost a decade of soccer, but only four major tournaments (and the leadup to a fifth, this year's World Cup). With big tournaments only rolling around every two years, and the largest in the World Cup only coming every four years, each tournament becomes a massive experience in and of itself. Reading Doyle's book, I vividly remembered where I was for each tournament and for most of the individual games and goals as well. That's not the case for the NHL, MLB, NBA or NFL playoffs; each interest me while they're on, but only a few specific plays, games and even championships really stand out looking back. I think FIFA's been wise to keep their big tournaments so staggered; the qualification process is always intense and thorough, and there's always club soccer, so it's not like the sport stagnates in between big events, but around major tournaments, the interest rises to a fever pitch no other sport can match. That's a large part of what makes this book so compelling; it's not just a bland retelling of what happened, but rather a grand narrative looking at momentous events through prisms of culture, fandom and nationality.

Two sections of the book really stood out for me. The first is right near the beginning, where Doyle gets into the Mick McCarthy - Roy Keane feud that was such a big story at the 2002 World Cup. Doyle's Irish heritage and his journalistic background gives him a unique perspective on the issue, as he approaches it both from the standpoint of an Irish fan and from the position of a journalist who can see both sides. The second comes close to the end, where Doyle goes to Argentina to watch the team attempt to qualify under Diego Maradona. The stories he tells there are fascinating, and provide a lot of insight into Maradona's actions at this year's World Cup.

One minor quibble I have with Doyle's book is his tendency to complain about England. He's quite right that they're often overrated by many fans, commentators and pundits, but I think he goes too far the other way and passes them off as just another run-of-the-mill side. England had some tremendous players this decade, and they made the quarterfinals in the 2002 and 2006 World Cups and Euro 2004.That's not great considering their talent, but it's certainly not bad either.

Apart from that, though, The World Is A Ball is a fascinating read. Reliving the tournaments and games is a lot of fun, but what really makes the book stand out is its accounts of visiting fans and the differing local cultures in each country. Doyle goes beyond the typical stereotypes to present detailed pictures such as the non-hooligan English supporters, the distinctions between former West German and East German cities, and how Switzerland and Austria handled Euro 2008 very differently. It's these vignettes that give the book its power and help it truly describe how a round world revolves around a simple game.

Back from the wilderness

I spent last weekend camping up in the wilderness at Manning Park, so the blog's been a little quiet lately. I've got plenty of content planned for the next few days to remedy that, though. First, I'll break down the World Cup quarterfinals. After that, I'm bringing back the Scribblings Of The Scribes of Sport book review series with reviews of John Doyle's The World Is A Ball and D'Arcy Jenish's The Montreal Canadiens: 100 Years Of Glory. After that, it's back to the World Cup previews with a look at tomorrow's Uruguay - Netherlands clash. Hope you enjoy these posts!

Scribblings of the Scribes of Sport: Gare Joyce's reflections on a tragedy

The recent death of Windsor Spitfires captain Mickey Renaud hit pretty close to home for me: when an apparently-healthy young athlete inexplicably collapses at the breakfast table, it's tough not to think about both your own mortality and the role athletes play in our lives.

Writing about a tragedy like this is a tough task, and it takes a special talent to portray someone accurately through the reminisces of friends and teammates.
It's also an incredibly difficult topic to tackle, especially given the insular nature of sports in general and junior hockey in particular: these already close-knit communities tend to close ranks even more after this sort of tragedy. Fortunately, Gare Joyce has what it takes to do the job, and turned out a tremendous piece for ESPN's Page 2, more than worthy of further analysis here.

Consider the title, "O captain, our captain," an allusion to Walt Whitman's poem about Lincoln's assassination, which was later famously referenced in Dead Poets' Society). It's more than a surface allusion, in my mind at least. Whitman's poem talks about how the ship's achieved its goals and come back to port safely, but the captain isn't there to see it. As he writes, "The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done/From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won...But I, with mournful tread/Walk the deck my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead." There are certainly similarities to the Renaud situation here: the Spitfires are doing well (35-15-11, third-best in the OHL's Western Conference) and have already clinched a playoff berth, but their captain won't be there to see any success that comes from his efforts.

The article continues on from this promising start in good fashion. Joyce begins with a poignant image of Spitfires' GM Warren Rychel shakily lacing up his skates while discussing the situation. As Joyce points out, it's interesting to see a former tough-as-nails player so deeply moved by this situation. "He had been a tough guy in the NHL, 400 games and dozens of brawls against the league's heavyweights, and now he was fighting back tears," he writes. "Again. No counting how many times over the past 10 days." This brief glimpse past the usual gruff and solid facade put up by many hockey players powerfully conveys the uniqueness, emotion and tragedy associated with this story─coming so early in the feature, it's a perfect answer to the ever-present question often leveled at sports features, "Why should we care?" The unexpected reaction shows there's a crucially important story here, and draws the reader's attention to what's to come.

A particularly interesting segment of the article focuses on one of Renaud's legacies: a pair of enormous work boots he came up with the idea for, to be awarded to the hardest-working player on a given night. The boots provide an insight into Renaud's character, as a leader, motivator and scrappy player, always looking for a way to give his team the edge.

Leadership is absolutely crucial in major junior hockey, perhaps more so than at any other level. At lower levels, many of the players are local, and the game isn't taken as seriously. At higher levels, it's a group of professionals. Sure, captains are still an important element in the NHL, but motivational speeches and inspiration likely don't play as big of a role among adult pros. University hockey needs leaders as well, but there's much less of an uprooting effect: many university players choose their school for other reasons than hockey, and those from out of town are often in the same boat as many other students. Hockey's also only part of their lives, as academics and social events occur outside the team bubble as well.

In major junior, as Joyce points out, the majority of the players have to leave their hometowns, their families and their friends at the age of 16. Hockey becomes a huge part─many would argue the central part─of their lives, and their social networks and day-to-day routines adjust accordingly. Also, most of the guys probably have the all-consuming desire to do well individually and attract NHL attention, perhaps spurred on by the knowledge that only a few of them will succeed. Synthesizing these diverse uprooted personalities, each with their own dreams and goals, into a cohesive unit is a difficult task for anyone. It's made even more difficult when the captain, expected to keep the team together and on the same page, is an adolescent himself dealing with many of the same issues.

Joyce shows that Renaud had his own set of unique issues to deal with as one of the few to play in front of his hometown crowd. As he writes, this brings its own set of challenges. "You get home-cooked meals, but that doesn't help with the unrelenting pressure of performing in front of those who know you," he writes. "Some struggle with it but Renaud thrived."

Joyce then uses some quotes from Spitfires' coach Bob Boughner to illustrate what an exceptional person and leader Renaud truly appears to have been, able to unify his fellow players and turn a group of individuals into a dynamic team.

"He was pulled in a lot of directions," Boughner said. "He had his friends on his team and his friends from his neighborhood. He had the kids he went to school with, too. As the captain, he tried to do things in the community -- if there was an event that a player had to attend, if someone had to get up and speak, it was Mickey. And he wanted to do that. If a player was traded to the team, he was the one who picked him at the station and drove him to his billets' house and introduced him to his teammates. Mickey looked for a way to lead."

That's a fantastic description for a 19-year old, particularly coming from a former NHLer of Boughner's reputation. No wonder the Calgary Flames wanted this guy. It's incredibly tragic that his life was cut so short, but he certainly made an impact on his team, his friends and his community, as the outpouring of support from those he touched demonstrates.

Joyce finishes off the story with a unique touch, an interview with Spitfires' centre Matthew Bragg, who was given the boots after the Spitfires' first game without their captain.

"It was Mickey who was in charge of the music and I used to get on him," Bragg said. "He used to play this awful rap or hip-hop or whatever. I'd get in there and try to sneak on some of my music. Some Irish stuff. Some Newfoundland music, like the band Great Big Sea. I might take over the music in the room from now on. Maybe that's what I can do."

The conclusion follows on from this perfectly, summing up the article neatly and again demonstrating the irreplacable void Renaud's left in the organization.

"At practices and before games there'll be music the rest of the season and maybe Bragg will put on Great Big Sea," Joyce writes. "But no one is going to replace Renaud, their captain -- someone will wear his boots but no one will put on the Spitfires' C."

A fitting conclusion to a great piece. Stylistic analysis can only take you so far, as great elements don't of their own always make for a solid whole. Joyce injects more than this, a cohesive soul to the piece that deeply moved this reader at least. There's heart in this story: it's not an abstract tale, but rather a strongly personal one that relates the true significance of Renaud. Joyce makes you realize the human tragedy here, and shows how this will forever affect everyone who coached, played with or was just friends with Renaud. It's moments like this that break the barriers between athletes and the rest of us, that force us to step back and see the person as a whole, not just their on-ice personality. The music has fallen silent for the moment, and even if Bragg puts on Great Big Sea, it will never again be an ordinary day for the Windsor Spitfires: on the deck their captain lies, fallen cold and dead.

Scribblings of the Scribes of Sport: Diamond Dreams by Stephen Brunt

Stephen Brunt's Diamond Dreams is a classic for any fan of the Toronto Blue Jays. Published in 1996, it's an amazing retrospective into the history of the franchise. What's more impressive than the on-field action though is the clarity Brunt brings to the shady backroom maneuverings that are as much of a part of baseball in this day and age as "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" or the seventh-inning stretch. Along the way, we're treated to some interesting vignettes and character sketches of the key personalities involved: Pat Gillick, the withdrawn baseball genius, Don McDougall, the young, ambitious Labatt's president and eventual key ownership figure, and Howard Webster, the eccentric sport-loving millionaire.

Perhaps the most interesting portrait, though, is that of a man still deeply involved with the franchise: Paul Godfrey, who The Tao of Steib recently called "a kitten-drowning baby shaker " for his plans to sell Jays' tickets to Red Sox and Tigers fans before local fans could buy them. Godfrey's recent actions, particularly his deep involvement in the nefarious plot to bring the NFL north of the border , certainly make a lot more sense when you consider his history and his involvement in bringing the Jays to town. He was originally on North York council, a tiny role that was insufficient for his lofty dreams, and chose baseball as his ticket to the big time. He later was the Metro Toronto chairman from 1973-1984, and published the Toronto Sun from 1984-1991 before eventually joining the Jays' front office as president. As he told Brunt in an interview for the book, his involvement with the franchise was always with regards to what it could do for him.

"I figured there was no political downside for me," he said. "Only a political upside in any event. So I started this campaign to try to bring major league baseball to Toronto. I was going to be the guy who brough major league baseball."

In fact, as Brunt so eloquently points out, bringing a team was always going to be a massive effort involving many people, particularly as none of them knew how to do it.
"A politician [Godfrey], a brewery [Labatt's], a bank [CIBC] and an eccentric businessman [Webster] set out to buy a baseball team for Toronto," he writes. Sure enough, the punchline follows: "Not one of them really knew for sure how to do it."

Interestingly enough in the end, Brunt seems to conclude that Godfrey's role wasn't all that essential. As he writes, "...[T]he idea evolved that [Godfrey] was exactly what he had hoped to be—"the man who brought baseball to Toronto"... Some of those more directly involved with bringing the team to town―and especially with paying the bills—came to resent that image, though the friction never became public."

Brunt also quotes a couple of Jays' officials disgruntled with Godfrey for taking all the credit. "The guys at Labatt resent Godfrey being credited with bringing baseball to Toronto, because he didn't put up the money," one says. The overall consensus seems to be that Godfrey was helpful, particularly with Exhibition Stadium, but didn't do as much as he generally gets credit for: not surprising, given that it was always a political matter with him.

The on-field drama is also compelling, from the Jays' poor start to the back-to-back World Series wins in 1992 and 1993. Brunt's strong writing means the reader is never bored even in the midst of long stretches of mediocrity, and the in-depth profiles he provides of Jays' players, coaches, managers and front-office staff means the book always stays interesting even when the team isn't.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book: for a younger Jays fan like myself, it gave a lot of insight into the origins and roots of the team, which I think is vital to an understanding of where they are now. As previously mentioned, many of the same features in the original expansion to Toronto seem now to be repeating themselves with the NFL situation, so this book certainly is still relevant. Moreover, though, it stands as a strong example of sportswriting at its best: telling the behind-the-scenes story of a franchise to the fans who only get to see the on-field product.

A few quick links of the day:
- A post I put up over at my Journal blog predicting the various Queen's teams first-round playoff matchups: 1 for 1 so far, with women's volleyball's loss to the Varsity Blues tonight (my story on that should hit the Journal's website soon).
- Allan Maki has a great feature on Lakehead's basketball team over at the Globe and Mail's website
- Mike's take on the Senators' trade to get Cory Stillman and Mike Commodore
- Neate has a nice piece in the Ottawa Sun about a goalkeeper attending Toronto FC's summer camp
- The Globe's James Mirtle has some interesting stats on defensive forwards up on his blog: also, he wrote a hilarious post on the Globe on Hockey blog about former Canuck goalie Johan Hedberg facing rubber chickens in Atlanta
- The CIS Blog's newest contributor, Rob Pettapiece, has an interesting post up about the possible demise of campus sports radio over at the University of Waterloo

Scribblings of the Scribes of Sport: Keane by Roy Keane and Eamon Dunphy

Keane, the autobiography of Manchester United legend Roy Keane (co-written with famous Irish journalist Eamon Dunphy), is an extremely unconventional book. Most autobiographies of sports stars give sanitized highlights of their careers, gloss over the low moments and generally keep controversy away with a 20-foot pole. However, that style is incompatible with Roy Keane's playing career, so perhaps it shouldn't be that surprising that an intense, outspoken footballer delivers an intensely outspoken book.

This lack of decorum and propriety is what gives the book its real appeal. You can tell that there's no dodging the issues here from the opening pages, which describe Keane's journey home after falling out with the Irish national team just before the start of the 2002 World Cup, perhaps the most controversial moment of his playing career. The usual approach would be to start with something soft, maybe an amusing childhood vignette or a story about the athlete at the peak of his prowess. As many opposing midfielders found out during Keane's playing career, though, he always went straight in for the tackle and he always went in hard.

This work displays the same take-no-prisoners attitude that gave Keane his on-field reputation and even mythology, which is a reader's dream. His views on everyone from former Ireland manager Mick McCarthy ("a fucking wanker... playing fucking Big Boss") to teammate Teddy Sheringham "a bloody good player... the fact that he and I didn't get on personally didn't matter a damn when it came to the business on the field") are truly refreshing, compared to the usual lines athletes trot out when asked about teammates and coaches. Keane firmly breaks down the dressing room door, and in doing so, allows readers an unprecedented glimpse to the reality of professional sport: not just the glamourous matches against high-profile opposition, but the tough realities of training, travel and the rest.

Keane offers some great insight into legends of the game (like Brian Clough, Sir Alex Ferguson, Steve Bruce and Stuart Pearce), but reveals even more about himself and his character. He starts with his humble beginnings in Cork ("Growing up, I was aware that money was always scarce, for example, we never had a car,"), and goes through his upbringing in the game and the beginnings of his reputation ("I got a reputation, which pleased me. He didn't take no shit,"), joining Nottingham Forest ("Considering where I'd come from, this to me was heaven), and his transfer to Manchester United ("A thousand pounds a week was a small price to pay to be a United player,"). Along the way, the reader gets a real sense of what makes Keane tick. As he says, celebrity was somewhat thrust among him: "At nineteen I'm afraid I wasn't ready for the role of well-known person." His early rise to prominence, and his place in sides like Forest, United and Ireland at a young age perhaps explains why he never seemed comfortable in the spotlight.

It's also interesting how he personally shifted from enjoying frequent parties to a more conservative attitude, and how this reflected a wider change in football from sport to big business in the era of television deals and a FA Premier League. Early on, he says "Work hard, play hard was very much my motto." One of the best passages in the book comes late on, where he talks about how this newfound professional focus led to an internal conflict for him. "The professional Roy Keane welcomed the new regime, its disciplines and rewards," he wrote. "But we'd had a lot of fun in the drinking era and the part of me that hankered after the rowdy banter and camaraderie of the best drinking sessions missed those gloriously irresponsible nights." Keane shows the dichotomy of modern football here: on one hand, it's great to see the game going global and taken so seriously at all levels, but on the other hand, it does sometimes feel as if part of the atmosphere has been irretrievably lost along the way.

Perhaps the word that sums up this book, and Keane himself, the most is intensity. Keane never failed to play his guts out on the pitch, and he writes (and now manages) the same way. Dunphy proves both his sporting and journalistic prowess by spinning Keane's writings into a cohesive narrative without losing any of the raw passion and emotion. That combination is what makes this book such a great read.

Related: A piece I wrote on my Journal blog about why United could use Keane's intensity at the moment.

Scribblings of the Scribes of Sport: Gare Joyce's Future Greats and Heartbreaks

Seeing as there are so many quality sports writers out there these days, and many of them are producing fine books, I figured I’d start occasional posts about the best works by sporting journalists I’ve read recently. To start it off, there’s Future Greats and Heartbreaks by Gare Joyce, which I received for Christmas and promptly read in the next couple days: it's very difficult to put down. The book provides a fantastic look at the profession of hockey scouts with a good deal of access from the inside, as Joyce was able to sit in on the Columbus Blue Jackets’ 2006 draft preparations and was involved with much of their subsequent scouting season. There are also interesting takes on a variety of other topics related to junior hockey, such as the tragic Swift Current Broncos bus crash of 1986, the world junior championships, and the players who never make it to the big leagues.

Another thing that helps this book excel is Joyce’s terrific writing talent. As established in his previous hockey book, When the Lights Went Out (a retrospective on the infamous Canada-USSR brawl at the 1987 World Juniors), the man knows how to tell a story. Despite the meandering path Joyce’s journeys in the footsteps of NHL scouts take him on, he is able to maintain a strong thematic continuity and spin a cohesive narrative out of what could have been a chaotic tale in the hands of a lesser writer.

The Columbus draft war room deliberations form a particularly interesting segment of the book, giving a great amount of insight into how NHL teams decide who to pick where. I found it especially surprising that so little credence is given to Central Scouting’s final rankings, which many in the media often speak of as indisputable. As Joyce points out, each team has their own list, and they frequently differ substantially from the consensus rankings. Joyce also makes a good point: in the end, it doesn’t matter if you got a player far below where you had him ranked if he doesn’t pan out.

Future Greats and Heartbreaks is a remarkable work. There’s far too little written about the scouting profession, which after all, is responsible for both the players who become stars and those who fail spectacularly. This book is a great addition to the realm of hockey literature, and exposes a side of the game many have never seen.

Related:
- Alanah has a great interview with Joyce from when the book first came out. Some fascinating stuff here, particularly on Steve Downie and Alexei Cherepanov.
- Joyce's own companion blog to the book. Interesting stuff here includes apiece he wrote on scouting for the Globe and Mail, a neat tale about what scouts get up to away from the rink, an introduction to the book's major characters, and an Edmonton Journal review of the book that touches on some of the other cool aspects and people I haven't mentioned, like Joyce's interview with Akim Aliu.
- Another review of the book by Joe Pelletier of hockeybookreviews.com, touching on some topics I hadn't thought of, such as if Columbus being the only organization that gave Joyce full access skewed his results in favour of their scouting model.