Everybody's Watching

"There he goes
There he goes again
Pulsing through my veins
And I just can't contain
The feeling that remains"
--There He Goes, Sixpence None the Richer

In about a week and a half's time, I've had the privilege of observing, up close and personal, two world-class athletes in remarkable situations, the sole points of focus in their respective stadia, and bearing the weight of the world on their very differently-proportioned shoulders.

The broad, enhanced shoulders of Barry Bonds were on display for all to see during All-Star Weekend in San Francisco, and every with every step and every swing, a thousand cameras and the eyes of thousands of fans followed right along. Contrary to the gruff exterior he's displayed for the vast majority of his career, Bonds seemed to embrace the moment (possibly his last glimmer of true acceptance on a national stage), soaking in his inferred role as host and even offering glimpses of personality. I was down on the field for batting practice (a day after the home run derby yielded no splashes in McCovey Cove, his first swing deposited one into the kayakers), and the buzz surrounding his every movement was incredible. I have never been a Barry Bonds fan (living in Los Angeles and rooting for the Padres would preclude me from such things), and of course he took PEDs (he's already admitted that, lest we forget), but to watch him swing in that cage, smile and wave to those fans, joke around with his teammates--maybe it was all an act, but he got me, if only for a couple hours. On the red carpet earlier in the day, he played the same cards, smiling and waving from the back of a truck with his wife and kids, thanking the fans and conducting a very humble, gracious interview with our own Rob Dibble. He really seemed to be taking in the moment, knowing how much he's still loved in that town (and probably nowhere else), and who knows, maybe regretting some of his behavior in the past ("Next question. Because it was stupid."). And oh yeah, the guy is on the cusp of breaking one of the most hallowed records in all of sports, and his commissioner might not even be there to see it happen. It'll still be a huge moment, but isn't it a sad state of affairs when everyone just wants A-Rod (the same A-Rod who has been endlessly skewered for cheating, on the field and off) to break the record, at least so a steroid user won't hold it? Baseball has gotten a lot wrong over the last decade-plus, and this record chase seems to be the culmination. Despite all the crap surrounding Bonds and 755, his role at All-Star Week was still pretty darn cool, and when he knocked all those batting practice balls out of the park, steroids or no steroids, division rivals or not, I was in awe.

If anyone on the planet has endured more scrutiny over than Bonds the past few weeks (this is an exaggerated statement meant to limit the scope to the sporting world--yes, I'm certain that George Bush is scrutinized more than any athlete should be), then it would be David Robert Joseph Beckham, who made his Galaxy debut last night (that's "Galaxy" as a proper noun--he has been around the lower-case galaxy for almost 32 years) in front of a sold-out, shrieking and photograph-snapping crowd at HDC, a scene which pleasantly surprised the soccer fan in me. I think the best part about being there was getting to miss the ESPN coverage, which was guaranteed to be terrible (confirmation: I tried to watch it on TiVo when I got home and it was unbearable). Actually, the best part was just being there, and the atmosphere did not disappoint. I was more there to shoot Chelsea stuff, so I planted myself behind the end line just to the side of Joe Cannon's goal, followed Salomon Kalou around for awhile (he hung out with us at practice Thursday at UCLA), got a great look at Cannon's reaction save on Florent Malouda (Chelsea's wingers--are you kidding me? Malouda and Shawn Wright-Phillips started, Joe Cole subbed in, Arjen Robben sat) and some hard work from Ty Harden on Didier Drogba (the U-Dub kid played great), among other things.

The video restrictions allowed me to shoot only the first 15 and the last 15 minutes of the match (injury time is a bonus), so I took care of my Chelsea stuff early (Ashley Cole, who didn't play, and John Terry were the two other guys who spent time with us on Thursday) and then pretty much followed Beckham the rest of the way. A couple of Beckham and game-related observations, besides the craziness that surrounded his every move (no, I was not in the jostling throng that mobbed the bench when he came in--I was parked on the opposite end in peace):
- his first ball was awesome, flicked on and almost a chance...when Beckham is given time and space like that (and MLS defenses are more than happy to provide), I think Alan Gordon, Carlos Pavon and company are going to be getting all kinds of service
- hilarious that everyone cheered his first "touch," as the ball rolled over to him while he was stretching on the sidelines
- minus Chris Klein, who had been red-carded Tuesday, Frank Yallop was able to field his full-strength squad for the first time all season, and though I know Chelsea wasn't going all out, it was still nice to see a few chances generated, and some great work from Cannon and the back four--Abel Xavier came up big on numerous occasions
- tried to see if ESPN got Mourinho's reaction to the Terry goal, but I think they missed it (of course, they pretty much missed the fact that one of the world's greatest clubs was actually playing last night)--very strange to see him jump off the bench angrily and wave his players back, as if they shouldn't have been celebrating at all. He and his goalkeeper coach, Silvio something (he was kind enough to join in our Thursday shoot for a minute as well) were gesturing like crazy, either at Terry or at the whole team to just get back and play...kind of weird
- the crowd impressed me. I was worried that it wouldn't be a real soccer crowd, but they cheered at the right times, gave Cobi the loudest ovation (other than Beckham), chanted and sang, and really sounded like a European crowd at times. It wasn't Old Trafford, but it was a way better atmosphere than the Arsenal-Fulham match I took in at Craven Cottage last year, and certainly better than any match I've been to in the U.S.

- so stoked that Beckham did get to take a corner kick, and it was right in front of me (yes, I shot this video)...not important that it didn't result in anything, but important for him and the fans that he got to do something
He wasn't running too well and didn't even think about tackling, so I'm guessing he won't be playing in these next few SuperLiga matches, but I left last night feeling very good about the Galaxy for the rest of this season, as long as they can find a finisher (someone other than Landon).
Another random side story from last night: I had met a Chelsea season ticket holder after Tuesday night's game, a guy who now lives in Pasadena, works in La Canada, and whose kid is going to St. Francis in the fall (he actually used to coach at Franny, when Pete Vagenas was there). The dude, Mark, is from London, has lived here for like 16 years, but still has Chelsea season tickets, which is awesome. Basically, he told me that if (when) I want to head out there and catch a game, I just need to let him know. So I can get a free flight (thank you frequent flyer miles) and free tix; I just need a place to stay and I'm set for a little weekend jaunt to London. Anyways, I saw Mark again last night, just as I was explaining the ticket thing to Fox Soccer Channel buddy Zeus, and he tells me the random story: As he and his sons were parking their car, they parked next to a bunch of big guys, looked like football players. Mark had just watched the last five minutes of the Boise State-Oklahoma game with some friends the night before and recognized of of these dudes as Ian Johnson, the guy who scored the winning touchdown on the statue of liberty play and then proposed to his girlfriend (after Chris Myers spoiled it) on national television. Ian, as it turns out, is a Chelsea fan and a great dude. After that Fiesta Bowl game, somebody put him in touch with one of his heroes, Didier Drogba, and they had been emailing back and forth ever since. Drogba hooked him up with a bunch of tickets, and they were there for Johnson's bachelor party. They even had an extra ticket, which they offered to one of Mark's sons (the older one), because Mark came in one short. So he sent his 14-year old son off to enjoy the match with a dozen Boise State football players. At the end of the match, he gets himself back down to the media area, where we're talking again, and just then, Ian Johnson and friends walk by with John Terry, who now has Mark's son under his arm, walking into the Chelsea locker room. Pretty cool experience for a teenage kid, huh?
Back to somewhat normal work this week (cutting the Chelsea practice feature for air on Tuesday), but I won't soon forget how fortunate I am to be able to experience this kind of thing--to do it twice in two weeks is pretty ridiculous.