The Czech Republic is home to 10.2 million people, making it the 81st most populous nation in the world. In the athletic world, that's not much of a draft pool, at least compared to Belarus (10.3 million people) and the other 79 countries sitting in front.
And yet, I'm e-mailing this column from a country that boasts one of the best soccer teams in the world. According to Federation Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) world rankings, the Czech soccer team sits at number four as of Sept. 5. Names like Jagr, Ha?ek and Navratilova are household handles for any American sports fan.
On the world soccer scene - of which Americans like me are completely ignorant - the country boasts an impressive arsenal of talent. Twenty-two-year-old phenomenon Petr Cech may be the best goalkeeper on the planet, Pavel Nedved is one of the best midfielders in the world and Milan Baro? is one of the world's best strikers.
My family and close friends, who form half of the readership of this column (the other half is made up by people with Google, access to the Daily's Web site and far, far too much time on their hands), just did a double-take when I started writing about soccer.
I love sports, but soccer has always been at the bottom of the list. For me it's the NFL and baseball (if the Yankees are playing). Soccer, or "fotbal" as it is called in Czech, has always been too slow and low-scoring for me.
But as all the corny study abroad pamphlets say, the best thing to bring with you is an open mind, so I excitedly decided I would give both sports a chance, hoping to find out how this country is so inexplicably good at these sports - and at the very least, to be entertained.
So I attended the third soccer game of my life last week. Of the other two, one was Tufts vs. Somebody and the other was Irvington High School vs. Somebody. This one was Sparta (Prague) against Arsenal, one of Britain's most popular teams, in a European Champions' League game. It was a few steps up from watching the NESCAC.
I was well rewarded. Going into the game, I was most curious about what the fans would be like. Soccer hooligans have a reputation, and I was hoping to see some firsthand. I pretty much missed out on that, because a total of one-third of ticket-holding fans was banned from the game as a precautionary measure.
There had been rioting at another game a week earlier and 6,000 fans were kept out of the stadium. While this made for a tamer crowd than I had hoped for, the situation itself was a testimony to what soccer fans can be like here. Imagine banning one-third of fans from a Fenway game because they were too nuts. Red Sox fans are obsessive, but I think even the biggest Massholes are out-crazied by European soccer fans.
Even with the worst of them banned, the remaining fans were far more raucous than those at any baseball or football game I've attended stateside. You know when CBS pans to show that pit of Raiders fans dressed in armor and spikes as it cuts back from commercials at Oakland games?
Picture that type of intensity shared by an entire stadium, without limits on age or sex. That's comparable to being at a European soccer match. Everyone around you is constantly starting cheers, and you feel compelled to join in on each of them despite the fact that you have no idea what you could be screaming.
As for the game itself, it pretty much confirmed why I don't like soccer. Sparta, the home team, lost 2-0. Eighty-nine minutes of boredom punctuated twice by scoring. I concede, these were amazing goals, both scored by Thierry Henry in eye-popping fashion and with the second one breaking Arsenal's all-time scoring record. It was Henry's first game back from injury and I couldn't take my eyes off him the whole game. The hallmarks of greatness were all there. Everything seemed blissfully simple for Henry, and it was just like watching Jordan or Gretzky.
But I digress. The fun part of the game wasn't on the field, but in the stands. It was a truly Czech experience. You could buy a delicious kielbasa and beer for $2 American, or half a roast chicken, pickle, cabbage and beer for $4. For the same price as both of those together, you still can't buy a beer at Yankee Stadium.
Just so my friends and father are clear: I have by no means given up on American sports. My brother and I shattered Prague's 10 p.m. noise curfew on Sunday night when Eli Manning led the Giants to an improbable comeback victory.
And I'll still be ravenously devouring every NFL game and spring training tidbit I can find when I get home. I just might be a little more reluctant to drop $80 on a baseball game, a few beers and a hot dog when I know that, half a world away, I could be watching a soccer game with 20,000 fanatics, eating half a roast chicken for $3 and drinking virtually free beer.
