Due to some fundamental laws of physics, he wasn't able to be at every game and he had to be selective in what games he attended. The world cup is in Spain. In baseball, there is no ticking clock, but in this sport of surprises the stopwatch was in the hand of the lone official on the field. In one staccato segment, players hack away at one another, and the narrator alludes to the football of negativity—as if players of bygone decades had all been ballet soloists. I knew Howard had been a star basketball player in high school back in New Jersey.
Throughout, Vecsey's narrative is full of fun and gentle wisdom. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a soccer player might overreach, but Donovan found the incredible presence to lay the ball off to his right, where Jozy Altidore was racing. If you must have a fully American perspective, or if you are interested in learning a little about the politics and corruption of the sport, I would recommend this book. In a sport of ethnics, among sons of immigrants and holders of dual passports, Donovan was a beach boy, happiest when he could smell the Pacific. Wracked by jet lag, I had no journalistic premonitions as I sat in Loftus Versfeld Stadium. They understood and were able to convey the inner game of sports and its larger meaning in society.
If your thing is soccer, this book probably isn't for you. His descriptions of everywhere he w I thought this was pretty entertaining. He was not given to bragging but said that as a twelve-year-old in Ridgewood he had scored with each foot in the state championship game for his age group, before his family moved out to eastern Queens. It is called Eight World Cups by George Vecsey. Wherever he goes to attend the World Cup — Spain, France, South Africa — he embraces the culture and has a wonderful time.
I thought that, aside from educating me in the recent history of the world's most popular sport, reading this would get me excited for the tournament. Klinsmann is married to an American and lives in Southern California. He often becomes attached to certain teams and cities and tries to catch as many of their games as possible. His energy and enthusiasm inform his writing, and his readers are the beneficiaries. Their country was now just being rented out for a television studio. Vecsey is a wonderful writer, and has an every-man's perspective on the game rather than that of the obnoxious soccer wonk.
Vecseys book is a masterpiece. But he also never seemed to want to learn about the sport, which feels strange. This was a fun read, considering the Round of 16 in Brazil is about to start. Did you tell Russell you could dunk on him? Baseball fans have already sussed out that date. Vecsey shows how each host nation has made the World Cup its own, from the all-night street parties in Spain in 1982 to the roar of vuvuzelas in South Africa in 2010, as the game in the stadium is backed up by the game in the street. In Sum A recommended read for soccer fans looking for a fun read with some intellectual heft.
He elevated his left fist above his head, as if imitating the Statue of Liberty holding a torch. Liked the book a lot. For me this book had too many errors and didn't have some details about players you'd expect from a sports journalist. It was one of those holy places—Delphi, Kyoto, Cholula, the ancient Mexican town of 365 temples—where you feel in your bones that you are at the navel of the earth. To this day, I enjoy watching defenders—football safeties who arrogantly swat away the long pass, hockey brutes who break up an attack with a hip check.
Good book but no Miracle of Castel. He got the feel of the ball and danced a few steps forward, glancing downfield. The first time I saw Bob Seel make a sliding tackle I thought he had invented the move. This is not to suggest that Vecsey doesn't see the game's warts. The first world cup they tell you in this book is 1982. However, reading play-by-plays of matches isn't the most interesting thing I've ever done. The author takes turns describing his personal connection to soccer, and traces the history of the United States men's and women's teams alongside tales of his experiences at each tournament since 1982.
Or maybe it's to be expected because brevity was the only way to get the book finished in time to be released just prior to the World Cup. In our own provincial little World Series of baseball, back in 1986, I had the vague sense the Boston Red Sox were still haunted by some dank vapor, cursed for sending Babe Ruth to the Yankees. During his remarkable career as a New York Times sportswriter and columnist, George Vecsey has opened his heart and mind to eight of these quadrennial spectacles, and here he takes us with him on his journey, enhancing our own every step of the way. The auth I picked up a copy of this book just after the start of the 2014 World Cup. However he also added to other interesting tid-bits including how he landed places to stay at the various venues as well as his relationships with other writers covering the various Cups. At worst, itt lacks the vehement, visceral, day-to-day passion of people born in soccer countries. The author lost me in the first chapter by telling me that he had no background or ability in soccer prior to being a journalist.