Yankee Stadium's Other Tenants

Playing on a field whose dimensions are dictated by America’s pastime is emblematic of NYCFC. The size of the NYCFC field is a testament to the club’s tendency to grovel to the basest tastes with panem et circenses.  

Take the most billed match of the year—LA vs. NYC. Or as you more likely saw it pitched: Stevie G vs. Super Frank (ignore that Lampard didn’t even make the bench). As for the match itself, the cameraman completely missed a goal because he was hell bent on a close-up David Villa. There was no goal build-up and not even a glimpse of the ball flying into the net. Viewers saw Villa walking near the halfway line, heard a cheer, and then saw a replay. It’s great that soccer is growing in the US. And it’s swell that aging internationals are willing to live out a well-paid early retirement on our shores. But can we please show goals live?

The NYCFC field fails to meet minimum size requirements—this much is clear to the naked eye. Opposition teams spoke of how they practiced long throw-ins before coming to Yankee Stadium because a good throw-in is equal to a corner at the Bronx stronghold. All media requests to measure the field were denied, confirming the open secret: soccer is ancillary to the NYCFC machine.

The restricted field at Yankee Stadium can hardly be expected to produce topnotch soccer—but NYCFC offers something else. The bulk of NYCFC’s allure is its landlord.

Soccer in a baseball stadium is a phenomenon in itself. It’s a novelty that might turn apathy to curiosity. There is inherent, American history at Yankee Stadium so a supporter will get something out of the experience no matter how poor (or confined) the soccer is. There is something of value simply in visiting the storied stadium.

The oddity of seeing a soccer match played on a baseball diamond is reason enough to go. A sort of athletic freak show, NYCFC’s strangeness is its appeal. Sure, NYCFC might have Pirlo, Lampard, and Villa, but throw in the Great Bambino, Mantle, and Jeter then Americans will watch this FIFA declared “ethnic sport for schoolgirls”.

The problem with the NYCFC setup is that the focus is not on the game but on the spectacle. Designated players take precedence over goals. The MLS caters to our wants as consumers, though. Does it think we’d rather see a DP walk around more than we’d like to see a homegrown MLS player score? Maybe we do. The number of Pirlo shirts at Yankee Stadium prior to his arrival indicates the MLS is simply giving us what we want.

For all that Yankee Stadium is doing to bolster soccer’s status in the US, is it doing so at the expense of the most iconic winning team in the world? The Yankees bought the MLS expansion rights with Manchester City. Imagine—how would you feel as a Yankees player? With baseball declared dead or dying daily, Yankees players must be resentful that their owners don’t even have the respect to wait for the autopsy report. You have just one foot in the grave and they’re already building a “football club” on top of you. Perhaps the Yankees can feel vindicated that their pitcher mound took precedence over decent football and constrained the pitch to a minute size. Perhaps they don’t care.

It’s unclear after just one season whether sport or spectacle will triumph for NYCFC. The appointment of Arsenal’s Patrick Vieira as manager speaks to the club’s prioritization of marquee names. NYCFC is on the egregious end of the spectrum in the gimmick arena as compared with other MLS franchises, but their impressive attendance indicates that there is a shrewd business mind behind their pageantry. NYCFC average 29,000 fans per match. The Red Bulls, Eastern Conference leaders, have an average attendance of 19,600 (capacity 25,000). Maybe it will end up being a ‘come for the Villa, stay for the Poku’ success story. Would Dog Day Afternoon or Serpico have reached so many people without The Godfather? A love for the sport, sprung from an initial interest in seeing a Champions League winner in the flesh is plausible enough.  

On Historicity

In Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle, a counterfeiter explains to a customer how historicity is a construct. To drive home this point he presents a lighter, which belonged to FDR, and a replica that does not vary from its authentic referent. The counterfeiter instructs the customer to identify which lighter was once a possession of FDR and which one is merely an imitation. She picks each one up and examines them, but she can’t tell. The historicity of Roosevelt’s lighter does not make it in any way physically distinguishable or “heavier” than the replica. There is no intrinsic quality that belongs to the real object that is lacking in the fake. Historicity cannot be seen or felt.  

This so-called pretend quality, though, is real in sport. You can sense it when you watch certain matches. It’s what makes you feel that you’re a part of something greater than yourself. It’s that thing that makes you feel you’re witnessing history and that the moment you’ve just witnessed will be talked about time and time again.

In the 2015 Basel final, loose games decided the result. Despite taking place between the foremost two paragons of the tennis world, the match had none of the emotion of AO 2009. There has always been respect between Roger and Rafa, but their present phase of rivalry has less urgency. Perhaps the relative flatness is due to the notion that whatever might happen now will not how the rivalry is perceived.

“Fedal” is in a strange immunity zone with regard to History. It’s still considered by some to be the best match up in tennis. Be that as it may, their meeting in the Basel final smacked of an exhibition or a testimonial because it lacked historicity.

The ‘obstacle’ at hand is that both players have achieved living-legend status while they are still playing. Very few athletes experience this oddity. Once you reach a threshold of achievement, what you do afterwards has less heft than what you’ve done in the past. Your will forever be defined by your own history. Coppola doesn’t have to worry about making a bad film. DeLillo doesn’t have to worry about what critics say about his next work. This luxury isn’t afforded everyone. You must have an inordinately successful career to immunize yourself while still adding to your career.

Federer and Nadal can stand to rest on their legendary laurels more than others for the same reasons De Niro’s poor role choices now cannot take away from his illustrious career. Their respective achievements are so immense that any missteps taken can hardly dent perceptions of their greatness. Once you are granted living legend status, it is difficult to have it revoked (barring some Lance Armstrong level scandal) because it is bestowed only to the most deserving.

Hardly anything hinged on the outcome of the Basel final and with little but pride at stake it was difficult to imagine the impact the final score might have on their rivalry. There was a feel good vibe, but much less of the laser focus we grew accustomed to in the era when they consistently met in finals. Even so, there was a sense of awe cloaking the match—the sort that descends when you know you are privy to one of the greatest rivalries in sport of all time. This aura was a halo effect rooted in the undeniable historicity of the rivalry itself, even though the match at hand was not loaded with significance. It was good tennis, but it didn’t reach the next gear of Grand Slam tennis because the circumstances simply did not have enough gravitas to produce it.

Forget that neither player is in his prime anymore. Watching them battle, you felt more that they each wanted to win for tennis rather than for personal glory. With Nadal’s injuries, Federer’s age, and their remarkable records, it must be that they’re out there for love of the game. They do not face make-or-break moments as they did some six or seven years ago. All the tests that separated the “boys from the men” and the “good from the great” have already been passed and recorded. There is less weight of history on them now, as evidenced by the fact that there didn’t seem to be any deep sadness for the loser. Nadal was composed and unemotional when he made his runner-up speech and shook the ball kids’ hands.

Any matches that take place between Roger and Rafa now will necessarily lack historicity because the legend of the rivalry has already been cemented. I read a match report that that explained how the stats from the Basel final could change perceptions of the rivalry. That’s all well and good but, the thing is, without the element of historicity nothing can upend the established and hallowed mythos.