- Maxi Rodriguez
“When I watch Barcelona, it is art.”
—
Football presents us with plenty of ‘proper‘ ways to play the game. The Brazilians emphasize creativity and rhythm. The English, a direct game based on precedent. The tacticians focus on victory at any cost, and the ‘Arry Redknapp’s tell us not to worry and to let the players play. Recent media coverage, however, might lead you to believe that this variety of styles is a relic of the past.
The Barcelona ‘aesthetic’ is a topic which has been covered in length in far more pedantic circles. The typical argument follows that Barcelona’s artistry lies in their ability to overwhelm the arbitrary nature of football. That through their precision passing, intricate movement, and endless spells of possession, Barcelona impose order on a chaotic system in which it often seems that random events dictate results more than relative levels of skill. In a 90-minute game in which instances of momentary bliss can be rare, Barcelona’s ability to create those moments more often than other teams naturally makes their style of play more beautiful, morally superior, and simply, better.
While this all good and well for the football philosophers of the world, it overlooks a simple consideration. For all the intrinsic beauty and intoxicating rhythm of Barcelona’s playing style, it’s a bit boring.
Visual stimulation has never been the main characteristic of football. While we constantly reminisce about the beauty of player’s like Pele and Cruyff, we do so because of the rarity of their skill within the larger context of football. Despite the fact that these players develop once a decade, fans continually remain entranced by the game.
It’s not because we yearn to bear witness to those rare moments of control in an arbitrary game. Don’t get me wrong, everyone loves to watch a perfectly placed through ball result in a rounded keeper, but ask a non-league fan if beauty is the reason he follows his relegation-threatened side to away games.
Rather, we give our constant attention to football because of the emotional tension that results from the chaos of the game. At any moment, anything could happen. A centerback could step backwards while his teammates step forward, putting his man onside. A counterattack might result in a precarious situation when a misplaced ball lands at the foot of the opposition’s forward. Jostling in the box might put your team a man, as well a goal down. We simply have no idea.
We relish in the chaos. The nervous ticks, the slight chills, and the dangerously high pulse result from our helplessness. When the variables are controlled and the arbitrary nature of the game tamed, the game grows dull. With Barcelona, Xavi will loft a perfectly placed ball to Lionel Messi, who will round the keeper before slotting it home. It’s a fact. But really, who wants to watch a game in which the result is already known?
Which brings me to the much maligned Major League Soccer, more well known for the novelty of Americans playing ‘soccer’ than the actual quality of the league. MLS is a place where balls regularly fall short of their targets, forwards have an aversion to putting shots on goal, and cleats meet ankles at astonishingly high rates of consistency. And yet, despite the lack of beauty in the classical sense, I find myself constantly drawn to the league.
I’m entranced by the chaos.
There are no “big” clubs in the European sense; no MLS team is so dominating that other clubs write-off certain match-ups to focus on more favorable games. The American modifications to football (the league-wide salary cap and pre-season draft) have resulted in a league in which the talent-gap amongst clubs that plagues European leagues is non-existent. The quality amongst the clubs is so similar that on any given day, every MLS team actually has the potential to outdo their opposition.
That is, if they can win despite their own limitations. MLS is a league that fully embraces the American style of soccer: physical, sans technique and movement, with a tendency for the defensive. Often unable to push the ball forward due to the rigid nature of formations which make for easy marking, teams contest much of the game in the midfield. As a result, decisive goals typically come about due to arbitrary moments. A missed step, a referee’s whistle, or an out-of-position keeper determine the victorious side more often than displays of skill. That might deter some, but that’s the beauty of the MLS.
While Catalans venture to the Nou Camp fully expecting to see a Barcelona victory result from the club’s unique cadence, MLS fans travel to their local team’s stadium devoid of assumptions and feeling tense. No game is guaranteed, nor are any specific passages of plays assured. Landon Donovan might regain his world cup form. Charlie Davies could shows glimpses of his recovery. Conor Casey may face red after a dense challenge. MLS supporters constantly experience the tension that develops from impotence.
It’s that tension, that dual apprehension and hope, that consistently brings me back to MLS. The outcome of each game is uncertain, free of any Barcelona-like guarantees of success. Rather, MLS supporters can only hope that the arbitrary works in their favor. That helplessness makes the emotional journey of a match more intense and agonizing. Emotional volatility is where the entertainment lies.
While soccer fans across the world scheduled their days around the Clasico, I dozed off and reminisced to an MLS match I had watched earlier in the week. Portland debuted their new stadium against the Chicago Fire in the midst of a torrential downpour. Punctuated by disallowed goals, own goals, horrific tackles, keeper errors, and an uncooperative ball, the game resulted in 4-2 scoreline in favor of Portland which couldn’t have been more emotionally intense or entertaining.
Order may not have carried the day, but it never does with Major League Soccer. It may not be beautiful in the classical sense, but Major League Soccer has an aesthetic premised on chaos that is far more entertaining and teasing than any Barcelona game.
It’s obviously a personal preference, but I’ll take Portland to Barcelona any day of the week.
Barcelona and the MLS Aesthetic
- Maxi Rodriguez
Football presents us with plenty of ‘proper‘ ways to play the game. The Brazilians emphasize creativity and rhythm. The English, a direct game based on precedent. The tacticians focus on victory at any cost, and the ‘Arry Redknapp’s tell us not to worry and to let the players play. Recent media coverage, however, might lead you to believe that this variety of styles is a relic of the past.
The Barcelona ‘aesthetic’ is a topic which has been covered in length in far more pedantic circles. The typical argument follows that Barcelona’s artistry lies in their ability to overwhelm the arbitrary nature of football. That through their precision passing, intricate movement, and endless spells of possession, Barcelona impose order on a chaotic system in which it often seems that random events dictate results more than relative levels of skill. In a 90-minute game in which instances of momentary bliss can be rare, Barcelona’s ability to create those moments more often than other teams naturally makes their style of play more beautiful, morally superior, and simply, better.
While this all good and well for the football philosophers of the world, it overlooks a simple consideration. For all the intrinsic beauty and intoxicating rhythm of Barcelona’s playing style, it’s a bit boring.
Visual stimulation has never been the main characteristic of football. While we constantly reminisce about the beauty of player’s like Pele and Cruyff, we do so because of the rarity of their skill within the larger context of football. Despite the fact that these players develop once a decade, fans continually remain entranced by the game.
It’s not because we yearn to bear witness to those rare moments of control in an arbitrary game. Don’t get me wrong, everyone loves to watch a perfectly placed through ball result in a rounded keeper, but ask a non-league fan if beauty is the reason he follows his relegation-threatened side to away games.
Rather, we give our constant attention to football because of the emotional tension that results from the chaos of the game. At any moment, anything could happen. A centerback could step backwards while his teammates step forward, putting his man onside. A counterattack might result in a precarious situation when a misplaced ball lands at the foot of the opposition’s forward. Jostling in the box might put your team a man, as well a goal down. We simply have no idea.
We relish in the chaos. The nervous ticks, the slight chills, and the dangerously high pulse result from our helplessness. When the variables are controlled and the arbitrary nature of the game tamed, the game grows dull. With Barcelona, Xavi will loft a perfectly placed ball to Lionel Messi, who will round the keeper before slotting it home. It’s a fact. But really, who wants to watch a game in which the result is already known?
Which brings me to the much maligned Major League Soccer, more well known for the novelty of Americans playing ‘soccer’ than the actual quality of the league. MLS is a place where balls regularly fall short of their targets, forwards have an aversion to putting shots on goal, and cleats meet ankles at astonishingly high rates of consistency. And yet, despite the lack of beauty in the classical sense, I find myself constantly drawn to the league.
I’m entranced by the chaos.
There are no “big” clubs in the European sense; no MLS team is so dominating that other clubs write-off certain match-ups to focus on more favorable games. The American modifications to football (the league-wide salary cap and pre-season draft) have resulted in a league in which the talent-gap amongst clubs that plagues European leagues is non-existent. The quality amongst the clubs is so similar that on any given day, every MLS team actually has the potential to outdo their opposition.
That is, if they can win despite their own limitations. MLS is a league that fully embraces the American style of soccer: physical, sans technique and movement, with a tendency for the defensive. Often unable to push the ball forward due to the rigid nature of formations which make for easy marking, teams contest much of the game in the midfield.1 As a result, decisive goals typically come about due to arbitrary moments. A missed step, a referee’s whistle, or an out-of-position keeper determine the victorious side more often than displays of skill. That might deter some, but that’s the beauty of the MLS.
While Catalans venture to the Nou Camp fully expecting to see a Barcelona victory result from the club’s unique cadence, MLS fans travel to their local team’s stadium devoid of assumptions and feeling tense. No game is guaranteed, nor are any specific passages of plays assured. Landon Donovan might regain his world cup form. Charlie Davies could shows glimpses of his recovery. Conor Casey may face red after a dense challenge. MLS supporters constantly experience the tension that develops from impotence.
It’s that tension, that dual apprehension and hope, that consistently brings me back to MLS. The outcome of each game is uncertain, free of any Barcelona-like guarantees of success. Rather, MLS supporters can only hope that the arbitrary works in their favor. That helplessness makes the emotional journey of a match more intense and agonizing. Emotional volatility is where the entertainment lies.
While soccer fans across the world scheduled their days around the Clasico, I dozed off and reminisced to an MLS match I had watched earlier in the week. Portland debuted their new stadium against the Chicago Fire in the midst of a torrential downpour. Punctuated by disallowed goals, own goals, horrific tackles, keeper errors, and an uncooperative ball, the game resulted in 4-2 scoreline in favor of Portland which couldn’t have been more emotionally intense or entertaining.
Order may not have carried the day, but it never does with Major League Soccer. It may not be beautiful in the classical sense, but Major League Soccer has an aesthetic premised on chaos that is far more entertaining and teasing than any Barcelona game.
It’s obviously a personal preference, but I’ll take Portland to Barcelona any day of the week.