So Estonia lost the opening match of its campaign against Ireland, 4-0.
I question the Hungarian referee, I question the spectators who think a horn should be sounded continuously rather in short bursts. But mainly I question the existence of the entire sport. I mean, the Euro playoffs part of the sport.
First of all, there's the matter of format. If Eurosoccer were a normal sport and had normal playoffs, people would now say things like: "Well, it was only game 1, look for the Estonian team to pull out a clutch victory on Tuesday in Dublin and force a deciding Game 3 in Tallinn."
The fact that the format of Eurosoccer is a best-of-2 series should already tell you that whoever designed the playoffs is not exactly playing with all 11 players.
Seriously, a best of 2 series? It's…an even number of games. Or, as they're called, "legs." (Get it? There's two of them,) Everyone knows most soccer games end up in a scoreless tie, anyway.
It would be understandable if there were a rule (like handicap, or total goals) that decided who won the series. There probably is, but no one seems to know what it is. Articles in the local press gloss over this maddeningly.
We think Estonia has been eliminated, but no one is really sure. And if Estonia has indeed been eliminated, why are the teams still going to meet in Dublin on Tuesday? Just because the tickets were already sold? Because it's bad for the economy not to have it?
As said: Not. Playing. With. All. 11. Players.
On top of it all, these playoffs are not even being held to decide anything this year. It's for next summer! I knew there was something suspicious about the scheduling -- an outdoor game in Estonia in November? (That's basically asking for another "game that never wiz", like the game against Scotland that was canceled in Kadriorg in the 1990s due to low light conditions.) When would the championship be played? December?
Next summer, it turns out. The championship doesn't even take place until 2012. So what, everyone gets pumped up over the "most crucial match in Estonian history", and if they win, they have to wait seven months? That's a different season! Some older players will probably go on pension before the championship is ever played! How can you have a playoff that determines next year's result? What happened to this season?
If the Stanley Cup playoffs in hockey were like Eurosoccer, it would be like this: The regular season (in which pre-season games alternate with important games) ends. Then there is a conference final. The winner of the conference final gets home ice in the division semifinals -- in next year's Stanley Cup. All series are best-of-4.
But it isn't like that. I thought I would never say this, but God Bless North America.
If you ask me, it doesn't matter whether Estonia won or lost. I think fingers should be pointed at someone, and it's not just at that poor Hungarian referee.
PS. Andrus Veerpalu has a genetic mutation that makes his body produce massive amounts of human growth hormone.
--Anonymous
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Nordic-Maltic cooperation
Visiting Malta last April, I was struck by certain aspects: a compact, cute little country that entered the EU in May 2004; population: about that of Tallinn, size: Harju County; boasts a particularly good-looking coastline by the standards of the local sea, and an inordinate amount of national pride (and yes, some smugness and provincialism).
Certainly it helped that, when we parked our red Škoda in the western town of Mgarr for a strawberry festival, a local man glanced at our car and said, in the lilting local English: "Wow, you drove here from Estonia?" That never happened in Sicily. Sicilians thought we were Swedish or else Romanian gypsies - or, if they were well-read, from someplace like Este in the north.
Playing tourist for a week, I really liked the way Malta has seized on its own historical narrative and the multimedia trend. Each major town has a few purpose-built movie theaters that screen flicks like the "Malta Story" five to ten times a day, for 10 euros a tourist. Featuring slightly questionable acting and special effects, they aren't all that bad, either. The slight cheesiness give people like me -- who can't take real-life artistic excesses like the Knights' Co-Cathedral in Valletta very seriously -- with an outlet for a little irony. (In the case of the Mdina Story, It was amusing to see the same actor who played a prehistoric settler make a reappearance in the late Middle Ages, or seeing tomatoes on the table in a scene from the 1400s .)
Estonian tourism seems to have a pretty good game plan itself, and it's gone past "multimedia" to "interactive". Still, it's tempting to imagine taking a few additional tips from Malta. Certainly Tallinn could have a dedicated theatre, say right outside the Old Town, where the excellent Singing Revolution documentary would be shown many times each day. (For one week in November and December, the Black Nights film festival could use it.)
It's hard to go an hour in Malta in without being reminded of the Great Siege and the country's importance in defending us all against the evil Saracens/caliphate/North African immigrants. Tallinn might also capitalize on its own clash of civilizations content with a Huntington Museum, named of course for thinker Samuel, whose dividing line between Western and Eastern civilization runs underneath Estonia.
The Maltese also do pageantry well. Contrast that to the Estonian military, which could be much more visible. Mainly you see the military in only a few contexts in Estonia: 1) 18-year-olds in fatigues hauling their pack to the bus station to travel to their hometown, and 2) the annual Victory Day parade. But a few ceremonies in the Old Town such as a changing of the guard and parades-in-formation would add color and national identity. Right now the only people parading around on a daily basis are the parking police.
At least we have a huge cross on Freedom Square. The Knights Hospitaller would certainly approve of that!
**
The funniest Nordic-Maltic connection happened long after our trip, when an Estonian tourist in the town of Paceville was told not to drink beer from a glass on the street. Due to problems known only to her, she went ballistic. Ended up being arrested and taken to a holding cell, where she ripped out the wires and cut the power to the entire police station. It made international news. Hard to believe anything about Malta could piss off anyone that much. It's like Britain in the 1960s crossed with southern island life. It comes out to some kind of parallel, quasi-European version of a Caribbean colony without the crime and poverty.
My own theory is that the beer caused her crack-up. The local brew, Cisk -- guess what? It tastes like every other country's beer. She may have been frustrated by that. On the other hand, the national soft drink, Kinnie, is excellent and distinctive. It's a little bit like the herbal versions of Coke from Russia. Ingrid Kalmiste -- that was the woman's name, I think -- should have had a Kinnie.
***
I'm enjoying writing about Malta and may actually continue with a part II soon. Right now, in the November half-light, the only thing Estonia resembles on Malta is the catacombs. (Today, on November 9, as an Italian FB contact notes, the sun did come out in Tallinn because of Berlusconi's decision.) Far drier than Sicily, the last rain of the summer fell in early April, and we ourselves saw nothing but sun. We car-camped in basically a sliver of vacant land left for the Boy Scouts near the parking lot of the Radisson. It was the most remote part of Malta, with two red sand beaches, but the hotel was the most prominent feature. This was before 99% demonstrations were a glimmer in anyone's eye...
Certainly it helped that, when we parked our red Škoda in the western town of Mgarr for a strawberry festival, a local man glanced at our car and said, in the lilting local English: "Wow, you drove here from Estonia?" That never happened in Sicily. Sicilians thought we were Swedish or else Romanian gypsies - or, if they were well-read, from someplace like Este in the north.
Playing tourist for a week, I really liked the way Malta has seized on its own historical narrative and the multimedia trend. Each major town has a few purpose-built movie theaters that screen flicks like the "Malta Story" five to ten times a day, for 10 euros a tourist. Featuring slightly questionable acting and special effects, they aren't all that bad, either. The slight cheesiness give people like me -- who can't take real-life artistic excesses like the Knights' Co-Cathedral in Valletta very seriously -- with an outlet for a little irony. (In the case of the Mdina Story, It was amusing to see the same actor who played a prehistoric settler make a reappearance in the late Middle Ages, or seeing tomatoes on the table in a scene from the 1400s .)
Estonian tourism seems to have a pretty good game plan itself, and it's gone past "multimedia" to "interactive". Still, it's tempting to imagine taking a few additional tips from Malta. Certainly Tallinn could have a dedicated theatre, say right outside the Old Town, where the excellent Singing Revolution documentary would be shown many times each day. (For one week in November and December, the Black Nights film festival could use it.)
It's hard to go an hour in Malta in without being reminded of the Great Siege and the country's importance in defending us all against the evil Saracens/caliphate/North African immigrants. Tallinn might also capitalize on its own clash of civilizations content with a Huntington Museum, named of course for thinker Samuel, whose dividing line between Western and Eastern civilization runs underneath Estonia.
The Maltese also do pageantry well. Contrast that to the Estonian military, which could be much more visible. Mainly you see the military in only a few contexts in Estonia: 1) 18-year-olds in fatigues hauling their pack to the bus station to travel to their hometown, and 2) the annual Victory Day parade. But a few ceremonies in the Old Town such as a changing of the guard and parades-in-formation would add color and national identity. Right now the only people parading around on a daily basis are the parking police.
At least we have a huge cross on Freedom Square. The Knights Hospitaller would certainly approve of that!
**
The funniest Nordic-Maltic connection happened long after our trip, when an Estonian tourist in the town of Paceville was told not to drink beer from a glass on the street. Due to problems known only to her, she went ballistic. Ended up being arrested and taken to a holding cell, where she ripped out the wires and cut the power to the entire police station. It made international news. Hard to believe anything about Malta could piss off anyone that much. It's like Britain in the 1960s crossed with southern island life. It comes out to some kind of parallel, quasi-European version of a Caribbean colony without the crime and poverty.
My own theory is that the beer caused her crack-up. The local brew, Cisk -- guess what? It tastes like every other country's beer. She may have been frustrated by that. On the other hand, the national soft drink, Kinnie, is excellent and distinctive. It's a little bit like the herbal versions of Coke from Russia. Ingrid Kalmiste -- that was the woman's name, I think -- should have had a Kinnie.
***
I'm enjoying writing about Malta and may actually continue with a part II soon. Right now, in the November half-light, the only thing Estonia resembles on Malta is the catacombs. (Today, on November 9, as an Italian FB contact notes, the sun did come out in Tallinn because of Berlusconi's decision.) Far drier than Sicily, the last rain of the summer fell in early April, and we ourselves saw nothing but sun. We car-camped in basically a sliver of vacant land left for the Boy Scouts near the parking lot of the Radisson. It was the most remote part of Malta, with two red sand beaches, but the hotel was the most prominent feature. This was before 99% demonstrations were a glimmer in anyone's eye...
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