By Adam Cancryn

Former All-American-turned-NFL washout Maurice Clarett is the unlikely ambassador who could vault U.S. rugby sevens into the national spotlight.

Maurice Clarett is training for a comeback.

Yes, that's a story we've heard many times before. There was 2004, when the Broncos took a third-round flyer on the Ohio State running back, even though he hadn't played in a year.

Then came 2005, when those same Broncos released him and Clarett went looking for a new team. He never got the chance; an armed robbery conviction landed him in jail for four years.

Finally free in 2010, Clarett caught on with the United Football League's Omaha Nighthawks. It was comeback time again for the one-time Parade All-American. Yet within 12 months, Clarett was back on the street.

Three strikes, the saying goes, and you're out. So you'd be forgiven for wanting to skip to the seemingly inevitable end of this latest attempt, where an unemployed Clarett fades back into anonymity. And we might indeed get there. But there's a reason that this time might be different, a reason that might be worth just the slightest shred of optimism.

The reason is that Clarett is not training for a return to football. No, the now 29-year-old who rushed for 1,237 yards as a college freshman and scored the national championship-winning touchdown has instead set his sights on rugby. The U.S. men's rugby sevens team, to be exact.

In most cases, that'd be the punchline to a sad career. The washed-up athlete, grasping for the last remaining bits of glory by slumming it in any sport that'll take him. Not with Clarett, though. Not when his comeback could hold the key to the future of U.S. rugby. Not when success here might mean a second chance for all the other athletes who were just a bit too small, or too injured, or too immature their first time around.

If you haven't heard of rugby sevens, you will soon. It's the newest Olympic sport, a stripped-down version of traditional 15-man rugby union that eliminates the brutal scrums and no-necked enforcers most commonly associated with the sport. In their place are the equivalent of seven running backs per side who scramble up and down a spacious field in what, to the uninitiated, can look like a well-coordinated mix of football, soccer and Calvinball.

It's a game that emphasizes speed, power and broken-field running, so it's no mystery that Clarett would want to give it a shot. The U.S. is stocking up for Rio in 2016, and what it lacks in homegrown rugby talent it's looking to poach from the nation's football fields. Already the team boasts ex-Dolphins safety Miles Craigwell and ultra-fast former D-II track and football star Carlin Isles, the latter of whom's highlight reels have introduced many an American to rugby sevens in the space of the one year he's played the sport.



But it is Clarett who could serve as the inflection point. He is the high-profile figure the football-to-rugby migration needs, the one who's second act could be as not just a rugby star but an ambassador for the game. His success could convince others toiling in professional football's lower leagues, or staring down the ends of their college careers, to pick up the odd-shaped ball and give it a go.

There would certainly be no shortage of candidates. For all the players drafted into the NFL each year, there are multiple times that many who were too small (like the 5'8," 160-pound Isles), or buried in the depth chart (like Craigwell) or just not ready for the spotlight, like Clarett. Bringing just a fraction of those over to rugby sevens would flood the U.S.'s pipeline. Americans always boast that the U.S. could win gold in any Olympic sport if it put even half the resources into it that it does football or basketball. Rugby sevens represents the chance to prove that, and it starts with Clarett.

Which is why this time, the comeback story might be different. There's still a long way to go; rugby sevens requires the constant running that football players aren't conditioned for. And Clarett will never be his otherworldly 20-year-old self again. But his training thus far has drawn raves.

"He's ridiculous. That's all I can say," Tiger Rugby Olympic Development Program Director Paul Holmes told Rugby Magazine last week. "His footwork is phenomenal. He's nowhere near conditioned for rugby, but that will come. ... The stuff he's doing in the gym right now, he's just ridiculous."

This is Clarett's fourth chance, a rare shot at rewriting an ending that by now we all know by heart. The hope is that he realizes that, and that he realizes his fortunes are now tied to the fortunes of all those just like him. The hope is that he shows up to training each day, pushed by his football failures and pulled forward by the allure of what could await him and U.S. rugby sevens.

Adam Cancryn is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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By Adam Cancryn

The inevitable rise of writer-centric sports sites, and what it means for the rest of us.

Kinglandia. That's the working title for Peter King's new standalone NFL website, a Sports Illustrated offshoot aimed at turning his stardom into a lucrative franchise. It's also a particularly appropriate title, given the site's place within a major shift taking root across journalism; call it the medievalization of media.

In short, what's happening in this: Major publications are spinning their most popular writers off into separate entities. Those writers are given their own platform and near-complete control of it. The branding, design and content is tailored specifically to promote them. They get to write what they like, hire who they like and yet still enjoy the financial and operational security of being attached to a large media company.

It's The Dream, and it's one that the most famous 0.1% of reporters are or will be living. Longwinded blogger-turned-longwinded ESPN property Bill Simmons lords over Grantland, New York Times sourcemonger Andrew Ross Sorkin sits at the helm of DealBook and Andrew Sullivan — until he struck out on his own — watched over The Daily Beast-backed The Dish. Now King is ascending to the top of Kinglandia. These are the industry's dukes, overseers of their respective fiefdoms in a world controlled by media conglomerate kings. It's a hierarchy straight out of the 1600s, and one writers and readers will become increasingly familiar with. And it's technological progress we have to thank for this blast from the past.

***

TO VARYING DEGREES, these fiefdoms are ego projects for those at the center of them, a chance to indulge their entrepreneurial spirit without taking any real risk.* They get to be the player-coach, simultaneously running the team and leading it in scoring. For that privilege, they get paid. King will reportedly make $1.5 million per year under his now contract, which would be encouraging amid journalism's perpetual financial flux if SI and its corporate parents did not just finish firing a bunch of reporters that likely worked for a fraction of that Kinglandia pie.

*For what would be the worst that could happen to these stars? Their site fails and they're brought back under the umbrella. They retain both their popularity and their job, and likely never put any personal money at risk. Maybe there's an unflattering post-mortem on your failure, but at this level you're getting criticized every day anyway, for both legitimate and illegitimate offenses.

But such is the state of the game right now. The peaceable media landscape dominated by a few central players is long gone, leaving the world fragmented and its inhabitants scattered to the winds (or in this case, to the far corners of the Internet).

Within that environment, it's no longer worth chasing the widest audience. You could be the largest sports journalism organization in the world, and Bleacher Report will still come along and plant its flag on your best land, with few repercussions. No, it's now about locking down the most dedicated audience, that however-many online avatars ferociously clicking and consuming and refreshing your site all day long.

And that's where the Peter Kings of the world come in. In exchange for that bloated payday and ego indulgence, you get their soldiers, the people hanging onto King's every inane Tweet about coffee or the delays on the Acela train to Boston. They're clicking and commenting and sharing and spreading King's good word, all the while lining the pockets of the real king, SI. That's much more efficient than chasing each one of those soldiers down and begging them to side with you over the next faceless monolith offering pretty much the same perks.

Meanwhile, you're also locking down that wildly popular writer with the sweet promises of financial security and editorial autonomy, ensuring that he doesn't take those loyal soldiers to the kingdom next door.

***

TECHNICALLY, THIS ISN'T a new concept. Newspapers have always had columnists, websites have commentators and TV has pundits. But it's nevertheless a significant leap. As writers develop their reputation more through outside sources — Twitter mainly, but to some degree Facebook and Instagram, etc. — rather than through their main work, they've become more detached from their employers. Joe Weisenthal is @TheStalwart just as often as he's Business Insider's Joe Weisenthal, for example. Same for Fox Business Network's Charlie Gasparino, or ESPN's Adam Schefter. It follows, then, that the next step would be to take advantage of that divergence and make their work "independent" too by franchising them.

This is something that you'll see particularly in sports. Business, tech, politics and every other subject have their larger-than-life figures, sure, but sports is different because its readers are the ultimate lemmings. A substantial chunk of sports fans are obsessives about their team, and that obsessiveness extends to the writers that feed them the information they crave. Keep them well fed, and they'll latch onto a news source. Take a look at Schefter's Twitter timeline, if you're skeptical, or the comments section on Jason Whitlock's blog. The degree of interaction that the sports-loving population wants is unparalleled (and a little scary at times). If TV made newspapers' top columnists into famous faces, then social media have shown that they can make the right people into industry rock stars.

Publications (some faster than others) have recognized that. Rather than let their top guy appear on ESPN in exchange for "brand exposure," they're instead setting him up with his own podcast or YouTube channel, crossplatforming him like ESPN did in putting Simmons on its NBA coverage, or SI parent NBC did by putting King on Sunday Night Football telecasts. Everyone is multimedia now. Everyone is battling on every front for eyeballs.

***

GRANTED, MUCH OF THIS is nitty-gritty, intraindustry stuff. The average fan doesn't care how journalists are making their nut, the same as journalists don't care that Knicks-obsessed Sal from Islip finally locked down that client his midmarket insurance agency has chased for years. But what all of this does mean for the broader public is that the sports media's titans are expanding their reach, even if it doesn't look like it on the surface.

Simmons might have his own fiefdom, but he's still an ESPN lackey, as his recent Twitter suspension demonstrated. King and his crew are extensions of SI. The high-profile Sports On Earth poached great writers from around the nation and consolidated them under the Job Eliminator2000 robot better known as Gannett Co. Each time this happens, the local and regional papers and TV stations are the losers. The biggest companies gain greater control over the news cycle, even as your favorite writers champion their newfound autonomy.

For journalists, and anybody who aspires to write sports in particular, the consequences are a bit more nuanced and unpredictable. What we know is that more company resources are being funneled into fewer pockets; the most popular individual is worth increasingly more than a handful of hardworking, yet no-name, writers. That's not good for sports journalism's already notoriously low starting salaries.

But at the same time, each new fiefdom means another stable that needs to be filled with reporters, likely younger ones with social media skills and low pay standards. Get hired, and you get instant national exposure and a head start in the race to join the franchised 0.1%. The traditional climb-the-ladder method of career advancement is no longer relevant in that situation. So it's a tradeoff of more jobs and exposure vs. less pay. Not great, for sure. Yet one that many would take.

More unpredictable is how medievalization alters the dynamic of employer and employee. If ESPN can spin off Simmons & Co. and ostensibly make a profit, what's stopping a private equity firm or venture capital company from doing the same? Why invest in the expensive, bloated kingdom if you can pick off their most popular dukes and raise an army of your own? Sure, a business site brought to you by Bain Capital might not work for obvious conflict-of-interest reasons, but an NHL site backed by them? It's possible.

It's early yet. Grantland is still in its infancy, and Kinglandia is a few months away. It remains to be seen how FOX and some of the other big boys will respond, and whether writers will get more entrepreneurial. But the winds have changed, and there's power to be grabbed. No doubt some of the biggest names in the business are eyeing a castle of their own.

Adam Cancryn is a co-founder and editor of Began in '96.

**A few caveats: I focused only on legacy media launching separate sites on the backs of their most popular writers. This doesn't even begin to contemplate the impact of the rest of sports media, from Gawker's Deadspin and Vox Media's SBNation down to independent sites like Began in '96. That'd take far more words than is worth spilling, and I wanted to narrow it to just the outlets that account for the largest share of industry profits and readership. That landscape is also much more dynamic and carries substantial promise, and there are some interesting business models that might arise there. 
It's also not lost on me that these smaller sites have also disrupted the climb-the-ladder dynamic; see the any number of writers who franchised themselves on their own or leapt to more mainstream outlets. And Kickstarter adds a whole new element to the mix, raising the question of what it takes to get readers to fund the franchise. Who knows what'll happen with all that. The industry is a source of constant innovation. But for these lumbering mainstream outlets, this idea of putting writers ahead of their own brand really is something new. The question is whether, in the end, it benefits the employees or the employers, the dukes or the kings.

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By Adam Cancryn

Marshall Henderson is loud, fun and a personification of our changing attitude toward college athletics.

Has there ever been a player so brash — and yet so beloved — as Marshall Henderson?

The Ole Miss guard (by way of Utah, through Texas Tech and South Plains Junior College) defies all convention, especially in an old-school college basketball world built on the bronzed pillars of team play, scrappiness and a tear-stained "One Shining Moment." He's loud, cocky and downright infuriating. He's taken every necessary step toward becoming the sport's central villain, the latest in a long line of players we love to hate. And yet Henderson has become simply a player we love.

Coaches and teammates lavish praise not just on his play, but his personality: "It's like traveling with the Beatles," Coach Andy Kennedy gushed to the Times. Broadcasters can't get enough, and neither can the press. Ole Miss turned down 80 interview requests in the past week, only for Henderson to pop up on Twitter to announce, to much fanfare, that he'd won 10 games of beer pong.

And as far as the rest of us, we've been hooked. Ever since he led the Rebels to a win over Georgia and then skipped the postgame press conference because "it's Saturday night. I'm out."  Or when he paraded around the court after a 63-61 win over Auburn, jersey-popping in the face of a hostile crowd. Or when he told reporters, with no hint of shame, that the NCAA tournament was first and foremost a chance to "get this money."

Who was this skinny kid with the big mouth at the SEC's perennial basement-dweller? More importantly, why was he winning so much, and then acting like a normal college kid, rather than the PR-infused mumble drones we've become accustomed to? Few players can bring that degree of braggadocio and then back it up. Henderson is perhaps the only one in recent memory that's done that and simultaneously won the public's heart.

Henderson's meteoric rise tells us, though, as much about us as fans as it does about one player's unique energy. The NCAA throughout history has trumpeted as college legends those that fulfill its ideal image: the humble student-athlete, playing his heart out for team and school. With some exceptions, it's been a successful campaign. In turn, it bolstered the NCAA's own image as wholesome do-gooder giving kids a chance at their dreams.

But that perception is slowly dissolving. The past few years have revealed the organization as more sinister, more exploitative than we'd like to believe. We know something is a bit off about the whole process, and while we haven't put our finger completely on it yet, we're getting closer. In the meantime, it's changed our view of the athletes that are shuffled in and out of the system: Maybe the universities don't have their best interests at heart. Maybe one-and-done isn't so bad after all.  Maybe they do deserve compensation. Maybe, just maybe, it's all about getting this money.

Henderson has taken all of our quiet unease and fed it through a bullhorn. He's the NCAA's worst nightmare, the Rebel putting the system's hard realities on blast. He's the one who realizes it's all in the game, and is taking that game for all it's worth.

Now Henderson stands on the precipice of it all, just a few wins from becoming a tournament icon, enraging opponents and winning legions of new fans. The tide is turning against the NCAA's convoluted approach to amateurism, and this next week mark a major step in that process.

It's not a lost irony that the NCAA would profit (as always) from his success, with the ratings and merchandise and such. But those are short-term benefits at the expense of the NCAA's long-term decline. Marshall Henderson isn't the antihero that the NCAA deserves, but he's the one that the rest of us need.

Adam Cancryn is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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By Zach Ricchiuti

Brazil's national team has a long way to go if they dream of capturing World Cup glory on their home soil.

When Brazil won the right to host the 2014 World Cup, fans around the world rejoiced. It would mark a return to the game's spiritual home, surrounded by a carnival atmosphere that's unmistakably South American.

But while the the country as a whole is ready for the tournament, there are still doubts as to whether Brazil's national team will be as prepared. The club is in the midst of an identity crisis at perhaps the worst time, reeling from a string of poor tourney showings and facing the ire of fans frustrated by the young squad's inability to break down its opponents. All the while, the pressure on Brazil grows to figure it all out before the rest of the soccer world arrives on its doorstep.

How have they gone from 2006's samba, juggling-and-dance worldbeaters to the tepid team on show against England in February? The answer lies much farther back, buried in the roots of Brazil's soccer history.

Brazil emerged more than four decades ago as the beautiful game's undisputed championship. Pele, Carlos Alberta, Gerson and Jairzinho led the charge at the 1970 World Cup, a fluid formation that thrived on short passes. After the brutal, physical World Cups of the 1960s, finesse had taken over, playing right into Brazil's strengths.

The phase was short-lived, however. Defeat in 1974 to Johan Cruyff's Dutch school of "total football" was traumatic, laying bare Brazil's physical deficiencies compared to their European counterparts. The poor showing prompted an emphasis on size and speed, a bulking up that made their subsequent World Cup squads just as suited to basketball as soccer. With hulking center backs and equally large center midfielders, Brazil looked to cover ground, dominate the aerial battles and win tackles.

That finally paid off in 1994, with a World Cup victory on the back of combative central midfielder Dunga. Supported by Romario up front, as well as Leonardo, Cafu and a precocious 17-year-old named Ronaldo, Brazil scrapped its way into the final and went on to defeat Italy.

It wouldn't take long to reach that level once again. Now at his peak, Ronaldo stormed through the 2002 tournament, emphasizing his physical superiority in the process. In many ways, it was also Brazil's peak. The squad was full of technique and ability, and yet often could simply outmuscle its opponent.

Cue the 2006 World Cup. Perhaps no Brazilian team before them had stood in the eye of a marketing storm as large as the one that Nike dreamt up. World Player of the Year Ronaldinho served as the poster boy. Commercials aired 'round the clock, clips of the team dribbling through airports and locker room as exotic dance music blared. Ronaldo, Adriano and Kaka were just a few of the internationally recognizable faces.

And yet the team floundered. Those four stars never meshed, and the offense flamed out. An inspired French team zagged their way through Brazil's midfield, culminating in Zinedine Zidane's winning cross to Thierry Henry.

As the national team spent the next few years tinkering with its tactics, the rest of the world caught up. Spain and Germany led a shift toward small, passing midfielders who could break out of traditionally rigid formations and wreak havoc. Brazil hit its low in 2010 as a dour counterattacking team whose style clashed with fans expecting the choreographed beauty of years past. The team simply did not have the technical skill to play possession-based football. When Kaka and Luis Fabiano proved unable to shoulder the entire offensive burden, Brazil crashed and burned in epic fashion.

Around them, the Spaniards and Germans and even the Italians twirled across the pitch, mesmerizing the world with the gracefulness that just a short bit earlier belonged solely to Brazil.

Little more than a year out from Cup's return, Brazil is still a work in progress. They lack the mobile, technical center midfielders necessary to dictate the tempo of a match. And perhaps more crucial is that there is a shocking dearth of Brazilian attackers in the world's elite leagues. With Neymar still playing for the Brazilian domestic league's Santos and Pato at Corinthians, only Oscar is suiting up for a top European side. Despite his talent, he's not even a starter at Chelsea.

Without that global dispersion, Brazil's development is stunted. Younger players like Neymar are content in the country's domestic league, cutting through South American defenses with ease. But he's in for a shock against European squads that can manage space and shut down the simple lanes. Ten years ago, a team overseas would have purchased Neymar at 18, where he could cut his teeth before leaping to Madrid or Barcelona. Now, the Brazilian league can afford to compete financially, keeping its stars at home but hurting its international chances at the same time.

Brazil have to decide what they will be when the lights go up in 2014. What kind of players do they need to develop? How do they do it? The challenge will lie in meshing multiple philosophies and multiple generations, or choosing just one path and charging ahead into the future, history be damned. It is a decision that they must make soon, or risk watching this identity crisis play out in real time in front of millions around the world and, most importantly, at home.

Zach Ricchiuti is a contributor and resident soccer expert at Began in '96.

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http://bleedingyankeeblue.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-phil-hughes-is-on-mission.html

By Joe Schackman

Robinson Cano will be a free agent in 2014. So how big is that contract going to be?
Robinson Cano is in new territory. There have been 42 $100+ million contracts in MLB history, and excluding relief pitchers, they’ve covered every position on the diamond. Except second base. Seventeen to infielders, 12 to outfielders and 10 to starting pitchers. A distinguished list that doesn’t include any second basemen.

The closest so far was Ian Kinsler and his $75 million deal. But that will all change with Robinson Cano. Whether the Yankee star breaks the nine-digit mark isn’t a question. He almost certainly will, and could even become the fifth player to reach $200 million. But a negotiation for that much money is never simple, and even as the highest-paid second baseman ever, there could still remain a large gap between what Cano is worth and what he ends up earning.

Cano is, at the most basic level, an elite ballplayer. He’s a good fielder and more than capable hitter, slugging more 25 home runs in four of his six full major league seasons and peaking last year with a career-high 33. The rare power hitter with a great ability to make consistent contact, Cano finished in the American League’s top 10 in hits nearly every year since 2007 and ranked sixth in on-base percentege in ‘10 and ‘12. He’s got one of those smooth, sweeping left-handed swings tailor-made for Yankee Stadium’s short porch, but away from home is just as effective at targeting the outfield gaps. And on defense, Cano’s athleticism often makes up for any deficiencies. Though some advanced stats are not kind (a career -30.6 UZR from Fangraphs, mostly coming from his first 132 games as a major leaguer), he possesses the necessary range and arm for the right side of the infield. But what stands out the most is his sheer gracefulness; Cano seems to glide to every ball, the kind of casual speed normally reserved for outfielders.

All of that adds up to a player who, statistically, was one of the league’s best over the last few years. Cano’s 29.5 fWAR since 2007 is the ninth-best in the MLB and third among second baseman. Over the last three seasons, only Miguel Cabrera and Joey Votto compare with him on an fWAR basis, putting Cano in line for a major payday.

But then the question is, how big can that payday get? To get an idea, we should first start with what his past play tells us about Cano’s future value. Fangraphs projects a 5.3 WAR season in 2013 for the second baseman. Using Tom Tango’s philosophy on aging and play quality, we can assume that Cano will lose about 0.5 WAR per year in his 30s. The last element to consider is the market rate for a win, which is currently about $5.5 million. Putting those together, that means a 5.3 WAR season for Cano would be worth nearly $28 million to the Yankees, far more than the $15 million they’ve already agreed to pay him for this upcoming season.

So before we try to predict the future, let’s throw in one more assumption: a 6% inflation annual rate on that $5.5 million worth of a win. With all that, here’s how Cano’s next nine years project:

Length	Year	Age	WAR	$/W	Salary	Total Value
1	2014	31	4.8	$  5,830,000	$  27,984,000	$    27,984,000
2	2015	32	4.3	$  6,179,800	$  26,573,140	$    54,557,140
3	2016	33	3.6	$  6,550,588	$  23,582,117	$    78,139,257
4	2017	34	2.9	$  6,943,623	$  20,136,508	$    98,275,764
5	2018	35	2.2	$  7,360,241	$  16,192,529	$  114,468,294
6	2019	36	1.5	$  7,801,855	$  11,702,783	$  126,171,076
7	2020	37	0.8	$  8,269,966	$    6,615,973	$  132,787,050
8	2021	38	0.1	$  8,766,164	$    876,616	$  133,663,666

That’s just over $130 million in total value. Which is funny, because all signs point to him seeking nothing less than $200 million over that same period. It’s pretty obvious which side will end up getting the better deal here. But that’s the price of doing business in the modern market. Teams are becoming smarter about locking up premier players before they hit free agency, and the clear message is that if you want the best, you’re going to have to pony up. Despite the statistical evidence, Cano’s closest benchmark is likely the 10-year, $214-million megacontract given to Prince Fielder last year. That deal factors in a $24 million annual average value, and applying that to Cano would put him right around $200 million over eight years.

It will now be the Yankees’ job to negotiate that down as far as they can without losing him for good. New York is in an uncharacteristically frugal era, trying to keep their annual payroll under $189 million so as to avoid luxury tax penalties that could cost the team as much as $70 million. That goal is within striking distance, especially with just three players under contract through 2014 (CC Sabathia, Alex Rodriguez and Mark Teixeira). Adding Cano to that roster would take up a chunk of space, but is nevertheless doable. And while this might not be the win-at-all-costs Steinbrenner team of the ‘90s and 2000s, his sons have been upfront about wanting to franchise their star infielder. The odds are that the Yankees end up retaining Cano, though nothing is guaranteed until the contract is signed. Well, one thing is. Robinson Cano is going to get paid.

Joe Schackman is a co-founder of Began in '96.

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Via EuroNews

By Zach Ricchiuti

Bayern's manhandling of Arsenal made it clear just where these two sides sit in the hierarchy of European soccer.

As an Arsenal fan, I try to avoid writing articles about them. If I did, they’d be mostly reactionary, angry and bitter pieces peppered with some disbelief over how they could possibly through away a game (coughBLACKBURNcough). But Arsenal’s utter capitulation to Bayern Munich on Feb. 19 can’t be ignored, because it served the double purpose of exposing the frailties of this Arsenal side while also highlighting just how good Bayern are.

The reality was that the match was lost before the two sides even entered the stadium. Two years ago, Arsenal gave Barcelona a rare hiding in London, just a week after squandering a four-goal lead to Newcastle. The difference between those two performances was a clinical 2-0 victory against Wolves in between; Arsene Wenger played his best 11 during the match as preparation, ensuring their confidence in the days leading up to the Barca showdown would remain high. 

But this time, Wenger chose the exact opposite approach. He rested Jack Wilshere, Santi Cazorla and Theo Walcott against Blackburn. Not only did Arsenal lose, they did it without valuable reps for their creative hub and goal-scoring threat.

The mistakes didn’t end there. Tactically, the team looked confused and disoriented versus Bayern. Arsenal attempted to flood the midfield with an eye toward hitting their opponents on the break, but they had trouble remaining disciplined. Their midfielders often found themselves caught too far upfield, forcing Mikel Arteta to cover the area in front of the back four by himself. It was no surprise that the first goal came off a shot directly in front of the defense, where Arteta would have been if he had any help.

Yet even if Arsenal had remedied those issues more quickly, it still would have been tough going. Bayern is simply a behemoth of a club, comparable only to Barcelona. They’ve appeared in two out of the last three Champions League finals. They’ve turned a profit every year for the last 16 years, despite spending millions on players. Arjen Robbin and Mario Gomez are two of the most fearsome attackers in Europe, but on this team they’re no longer considered starters. And after beating out a slew of upper-tier teams for manager Pep Guardiola, Brazilian forward Neymar is now rumored to be leaning toward Bayern over the Spanish giants.

That depth makes them a fearsome squad, featuring some of the most technically advanced players on the continent. This generation of German footballers often sound more like sleek robotic equipment, but that is often the best comparison. Pace and technique are the foundation, allowing them to systematically dismantle opponents like Arsenal.

So how does Arsenal catch up? Wenger insists that he believes this team is quality, and that is at least partially true. But their confidence and depth are woeful, and Wilshere and Walcott are often without adequate support. Just four players remain from the starting 11 that beat Barcelona in 2011, and most of the newcomers do not qualify as improvements. There remains much work to be done before they measure up to Bayern, which appear to be in pole position for a return to the Champions League final. And with the German squad looking stronger every week, Arsenal might be better setting its sights on next season, because as of now, it looks like Bayern will be impossible to stop.

Zach Ricchiuti is a contributor and resident soccer expert at Began in '96.

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By Zach Ricchiuti

On the sad state of affairs that is U.S. television's soccer coverage.

Readers, prepare for a rant. I am angry. I am angry and disappointed with a lot of things really, but for right now, I’m especially angry and disappointed at the quality of soccer coverage in America.

Basketball, football and baseball fans, you have no idea how lucky you are. Turn on the radio in the morning and there will be at least 10 stations full of talking heads overanalyzing the latest press conferences and games from the day before. News outlets devote whole sections to NFL, MLB, and NBA reporting online, in print and on television. And frankly, it has made me a very bitter and jealous soccer fan.

Soccer in the U.S. is growing. The double-Windsored douchebags on Sportscenter might still chuckle every time a brilliant Champions League goal sneaks into the week’s top 10, but it is. Soccer is now the number two sport for children aged 12 to 24, and the MLS is the third-best attended sport in the nation.These are tangible signs of traction, and that's without counting the the "I don't like soccer, but I watch the World Cup" crowd that surfaces every four years by the millions.

Yet that growing contingent of soccer fans must find its fix among the table scraps on the Internet and specialty channels like Fox Soccer. Don't get me wrong, the Internet is a fantastic source, and likely the number one contributor to the Premier League’s explosive popularity around the world. How else would people watch a Manchester United game from a tiny 75th-floor apartment somewhere in Singapore? But if the sport is going to continue growing here in the U.S., there needs to be a serious change in the way that the media cover the sport.

Now, I don't consider myself a typical American soccer fan. I am an addict. So I understand that the U.S. media might not be able to cater to my specific needs. That's okay. I can live with that. I have enough sources that cater to sickos like me who actually want to know how an 18-year old Arsenal player is doing during his time on loan in Spain’s second division.

But for the love of the game, what is with the programming shoveled down fan’s throats by the major soccer television channels? Fox Soccer is the main culprit. Despite controlling the most most marketable and widely consumer soccer league in the world, the Premier League, the lack of content and quality analysis that this channel offers is stupendously low.

For example, FSC’s main news channel has a section called “The Banter Zone.” You read that right. For 10 minutes each night, this “flagship news show” (FSC’s words, not mine) puts some soccer-illiterate, faux-hawked tool on air to reel off inane Twitter postings about whether or not David Beckham will start for PSG. It barely attempts to take itself seriously, which is a shame because we only got to this point after the channel rebranded itself and dumped Bobby McMahon, one of the finest soccer analysts on American television.

And while any reputable soccer match program around the world knows that two central production elements are the pre- and post-match interviews with players and managers, Fox Soccer instead blesses us with Eric Wynalda and Warren Barton, who hate each other so much that you’d think Barton slept with Wynalda’s wife (It was actually John Harkes, in 1998). Poor Rob Stone is left to mediate while trying to maintain a shred of the show’s dignity and steer it in the right direction. Meanwhile, Brian McBride stands there, dazed and confused. He’s useless.

The rest of Fox Soccer’s lineup consists of replayed FA cup games from the 1990’s, and the occasional gift from God that is the Premier League Review Show. The review show is far and away the only quality piece, which makes sense because it is taken directly from England’s Sky Sports.

Where is the analysis, Fox Soccer? Where is the comprehensive coverage of the best league in the world? Simply showing three hours of Premier League soccer every Saturday and Sunday morning is not enough to keep this channel alive.

Which brings me to ESPN. The condescending attitude that has permeated ESPN’s culture in the way it reports on soccer is one of the major reasons the sport has failed to find a foothold with the average American sports viewer. The network broadcasts the MLS, the World Cup and parts of the Premier League, and yet ignores the sport on its various highlight and analysis shows. Just because Mike and Mike in the Morning don’t care about soccer doesn’t mean that the rest of the country feels the same way.

And ESPN has the talent to cover the sport with the same obsessive passion it does everything else, if it ever decides that it wants to. Online contributors like Roger Bennett, Michael Cox and Dave Hirshey are among the world’s top soccer writers, but get little television exposure and none of the premier spots on the website.

Thankfully, newcomers NBC Sports and BeIn Sports are trying to pick up the slack. Soccer is a regular part of the highlight rotation during NBC shows, and BeIn’s coverage of La Liga and Serie A are textbook examples of how to cover soccer. Highlight shows? Check. Quality ex-player analysis? Check. Pundits who know what they’re talking about? Check. Non-ex-player talking heads who bring an interesting perspective to the game? Check. Beautiful, knowledgeable women to introduce segments and do interviews? Check, check, check.

The old “nobody in the U.S. cares about soccer” argument doesn’t work anymore. Two or three games a week is not enough anymore to satisfy American soccer fans’ ravenous appetite, and there are signs that the media are slowly getting that picture. But it will be up to the major television outlets to put the final nail in that myth. When that happens, I pray that The Banter Zone is killed along with it.

Zach Ricchiuti is a contributor and resident soccer expert for Began in '96.

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www.amazinavenue.com

By Joe Schackman

Why is Michael Bourn still sitting at home? It has something to do with his agent.

Scott Boras is likely the first person that comes to mind when you think of a sports agent. And with good reason; he’s built his reputation on helping the some best baseball players in the world ink some of the biggest contracts in history. Of the four $200 million deals ever signed in Major League Baseball, Boras had a hand in three of them. He’s a super agent.

But even a super agent fails sometimes, and Michael Bourn is in the middle of finding that out.

Any conversation about Bourn’s lengthy free agency has to include Boras, because Boras is the main reason that the former Atlanta Braves outfielder is still sitting at home. It’s clear that Bourn still has the kind of talent coveted by big-league teams. He was ranked among the top three defenders by both Baseball Reference and Fangraphs at a premium position, and is a potent leadoff hitter at the plate. What he lacks in power (a career-high nine in 2012), he makes up for with a decent walk rate and excellent speed on the basepaths. As an overall offensive package, he’s a solid addition to any lineup. Couple that with his best-in-show defense, and you have a player consistently putting up 4+ WAR seasons. The stats all say the same thing: Michael Bourn is a very good baseball player.

So in a market that shelled out $125 million for Josh Hamilton and $75 million for B.J. Upton, why is the best player available still without a home?

Part of the answer is that teams are worried about investing in a player whose talents might not age so well. As Dave Cameron detailed a few weeks ago at Fangraphs, players who excel defensively from from ages 18 to 29 tend to drop off significantly after they hit 30. Andruw Jones, Carl Crawford and Aaron Rowand are each recent cautionary tales. With so much of Bourn’s value wrapped in outfield range that could quickly diminish, there could be some hesitation in giving him a lengthy and potentially bloated contract.

Then, of course, there’s the Boras factor. He’s notorious for extracting big-money contracts for players that at times haven’t panned out as expected, and as a result teams have learned to think twice before jumping into bed with him. With Bourn, he’s used his traditional method of dangling his client on the open market far longer than any other top player. The advantage is that there is no disputing that Bourn is the best one available. But in the meantime, the demand for him has shrunk. The Nationals, A’s, Braves, Red Sox and Angels all addressed their needs with other players through free agency or a trade while Boras was driving a hard bargain.

Bourn will play somewhere next year, though, even if it takes him longer than he’d like. The Mets would make the most sense given their current outfield personnel, which is the worst in the league. Lucas Duda is a horrible defender, center field is a platoon between Kirk Nieuwenhuis and newcomer Colin Cowgill, and Mike Baxter and Andrew Brown are battling it out in right field. Bourn would give them one legitimate everyday outfielder, and help them cover Citi Field’s cavernous confines. But there are some major obstacles. New York is still mired in its messy financial situation, and signing Type-A free agent Bourn would mean forfeiting their top draft pick. Though the Mets were the 10th-worst team in the league last year, they’re picking 11th because the Pirates couldn’t sign their first rounder from last year. That means the typical protections for top-10 picks don’t apply to New York, unless the MLB grants them an exception. Should Bud Selig rule in their favor, they could be a good bet to end up with Bourn. Without that, though, it seems unlikely.

If not the Mets, the Mariners and Rangers are the top contenders. Seattle has flirted with outfielders this entire offseason, from their Josh Hamilton pipe dream to a legitimate courtship of Nick Swisher that ended when he signed with Cleveland. Adding Bourn would instantly infuse them with much-needed talent. But like the Mets, it would mean giving up a relatively high first-round pick (No. 12). They’ve also been burned in the past by a poorly aging defensive wonder. After watching Chone Figgins and his four-year, $36 million deal flame out, they might not be too eager to pony up the cash again.

Texas also has a hole at center field after Hamilton’s departure, and has also missed on just about every free agent and trade prospect so far this offseason. Bourn would mitigate that issue, especially with Nelson Cruz facing a 50-game suspension. But in the Rangers’ hitter-friendly ballpark, his defensive value would also be somewhat limited. They might instead opt to give homegrown Leonys Martin a shot at the job, rather than commit to a long-term contract.

Outside of those three, it looks bleak for the last remaining big talent. Though Prince Fielder played a similar role of odd man out last year and got a nine-year, $214 million deal, that only came after Victor Martinez tore his ACL and the Tigers found themselves with an unexpected hole to fill. And don’t forget, Fielder signed his contract on Jan. 26. We’re now into early February.

If all else fails, Bourn could always take a one-year deal and reset his market next year. That would bring a lot of teams back into the mix, including the Yankees and Phillies. It’s always a risk though, especially after coming off a career year. As hard as it might be to believe, Bourn’s value might never be higher than it is now, and the super agent Boras might have overplayed his hand.

Joe Schackman is a co-founder of Began in '96

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Via ESPN.com

By Michael Bennett

The saga of Manti Te'o and controversy surrounding Chris Culliver only emphasize how far we have to go when it comes to homophobia in sports.

I swore to myself that I wouldn’t contribute to the Manti Te’o frenzy. Every day there is some “new development,” saying this guy faked a phone call, or that guy was in on it the whole time; This guy is gay but “confused,” and that guy is “faaaar from it.” The only thing I know for sure is that even after we’re sick and tired of this story, it will continue to have legs at water coolers, bar counters and dinner tables. You can’t help but talk about something so absurd, especially with so much left to be discovered. So don’t worry guys, Dr. Phil and the gay police are on a mission!

The biggest problem — for me, at least — is that this story is getting all the wrong kind of attention. We’re too busy worrying about why someone would fake a girlfriend or why a friend would trick his man-crush into falling in love with him, or whatever is going on in this Twelfth Night adaptation. And in the meantime, we’re missing out on the broader, more important issue: the shameless and cowardly homophobia that runs rampant through the sports world. 

No male athlete in a major professional sport has ever identified himself as homosexual during his career, and in many ways it’s understandable. That brave soul would have to deal with the homophobic backlash from fans and rivals, as well as those in his own locker room. He’d have to worry about teammates always making sure that he isn’t checking them out, or that he isn’t getting too comfortable in the pile-on, or that he’s not uttering any of the hundreds of sports cliches that carry homosexual undertones. That’s all on top of the basic challenge of playing his sport at the highest level, where if he has a bad practice, doesn’t make a catch, or lets in the game-winning goal, the whispers will start up that maybe he failed because he’s too gay.

The Te’o coverage has only emphasized to me that these are the attitudes that a gay athlete would face, day in and day out. When Katie Couric asked the Notre Dame linebacker if he was gay, he sat back, laughed and as his eyes widened, said, “far from it.” Instead of responding with a “why do you care” or “that’s not an issue” or anything else that would have made the question look stupid, he chose a cowardly laugh.

“Far from it.” Far from what, exactly? So far from being gay that you fell in love with a fake Internet girlfriend? How masculine of you, Manti! Don’t worry, guys, he’s not gay, just fell in love with the wrong cyber girl. They were definitely having heterosexual cyber sex, but don’t tell Notre Dame.

If that didn’t drive home how far we have to still have to go, then San Francisco 49ers cornerback Chris Culliver this week brought an extra-large hammer to finish the job. In an interview, he said that “we don’t got no gay people on the team, they gotta get up out of here if they do.” I’m not sure whether it’s the grammar or content that makes me [sic] to my stomach. 

He later apologized, saying that the thoughts were “in my mind” but “that’s not what I feel in my heart.” But the reality is that he was just the guy young and oblivious enough to voice the feelings shared by numerous players in the NFL.

So what can we do while we wait for that brave soul to face down the blatant homophobia of professional sports? We can support programs like the You Can Play Project, which is dedicated to eradicating homophobia and promoting a safe sporting environment for athletes of any sexual orientation. We can acknowledge that Chris Culliver is not alone in his thoughts, and that homophobia can start or stop at a young age, whether in locker rooms, classrooms or at the family dinner table. We can confront that reality head on. 

Or we can keep investigating fake girlfriends. But the longer we pretend that this isn’t an issue, the longer it will be the biggest unspoken, unresolved and shameful problem in sports.

You can find out more about the You Can Play Project at youcanplayproject.org

Michael Bennett is a contributor to Began in '96 and writes on hip-hop and culture at Poetic Justice.

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