Pardon the Interruption - Spurs spike Gunners

For those of you who regularly check this space for Nebraska football writing, I have to apologize. I'm about to talk about soccer for the next few minutes (depending on how quickly you can, if you decide to at all, read). If it goes well I may examine other areas of non-Nebraska interest from time to time during this vast emptiness known as the off-season but please know that I truly appreciate those who want to read and talk Cornhuskers or other items of interested related to The Good Life.

As proof that I'm still up on things: Shawn Watson's staying (can't be overstated so I won't even enter the ballpark) and Creighton pissed away a victory against suddenly unbeatable Drake at the free-throw line.

I'm officially in. A soccer fan. A communist in some people's minds, just stupid in other's but for the first time Tuesday I delighted in a soccer victory. In the second leg of their Carling Cup semi-final, Tottenham crushed Arsenal 5-1 for their first victory over their arch rival since 1999.

The feeling itself wasn't unique but that's the point. The victory felt no different than a Cubs win over the Cardinals or a Husker victory over CU but as few as three years ago that would've seemed inconceivable.

When I moved to Boston I ended up with a roommate who was soccer mad. One of the few requests he made in our four years of cohabitation was that we pony up for Fox Soccer Channel.

It was on whenever he was home and I made an effort to try and capture some of his enthusiasm but it wasn't easy. I wasn't familiar with the most basic elements of the game--promotion/relegation, the various cups or even the goddamned offsides rule--much less the teams and players and the vast majority of awe-inspiring plays that elicited a response from my roommate barely even registered on my "Vince Carter once dunked by jumping over a Frenchman," American sports scale.

The solution, according to my roommate, was to simply pick a team and follow them so I did. While watching soccer was sometimes tedious, playing soccer video games never was and, at the time, I was skippering Tottenham Hotspur so that seemed like a logical place to start. I went to their official website and read through the teams entire history. I studied the rosters and even familiarized myself with their place in the grand pecking order of English football.

Having completed the crash course I fully expected to be a Spurs fan but I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the way things were supposed to work. You cannot, as a relatively well-adjusted grown man, simply pick a team to root for and instantly become a fan.

Of course, that is how I became a Cubs fan. They were on WGN one day and I liked the combination of their uniforms and some of the fans' signs so I was immediately a Cubs fan. No questions asked. But I was maybe six years old then and, more importantly perhaps, that choice hasn't exactly resulted in a lot of celebratory moments in my lifetime. My life as a Spurs fan was off to an ominously slow start.

Things wouldn't pick up again until the summer of '06 with the start of the World Cup and actual real expectations for the US. As I realized then and still believe now, international soccer represents the final sports frontier for the American sports fan. There is no other sport that matters where the US can be viewed, and rooted for, as an underdog. (USA Basketball, however, has been working diligently to change this.)

That's a pretty easy idea to rally around and I rallied hard. Of course, the US didn't provide much to cheer about, offering an ugly, grueling draw against eventual champions Italy as the lone bright spot but the tournament was valuable on another front. I was watching soccer and enjoying it.

After Zinedine Zidane butted his way into the history books there was a nasty void in my sports viewing experience. After a month of riveting action it was all gone. I wanted more soccer and I was ready to understand it this time around. Enter Tottenham.

Coincidentally, Bill Simmons shared these same feelings and set about a selecting his own squad. Much to my chagrin, and at least two years after I had done the same thing (for the record), he settled on Tottenham Hotspur. To date, Simmons has yet to write another word about the squad.

I, on the other hand, have quietly been building up a love for this soul-crushing team. Picked by some to be a real contender this season, Spurs have floundered, firing their coach mid-season and continuing to disappoint Steve Nash (among thousands of less-notable others). Before Tuesday, they hadn't beaten Arsenal, a bitter London rivalry most similar to the old days of Dodgers-Yankees, in almost nine years. They're mired in the middle of the table and were rumored to be selling off perhaps their best player, Dimitar Berbatov.

But all that changed, at least for a night, with a win over Arsenal. Granted it was the Carling Cup, a competition that, in the wild world of English football, is viewed with some disdain. Imagine if Major League Baseball crowned their champion not with a playoff then World Series but rather gave the title to the best regular season team but then also had a single elimination tournament that encompassed every level of baseball from the MLB to Single-A.That tournament is the Carling Cup. In my eyes there's an argument for either of these events being more impressive than the other but in England, the Carling Cup plays second-fiddle. So what? They also put vinegar on their fries.

Tuesday, partially due to my own soccer ignorance, I forgot all that. Seeing Spurs crush the beautiful Gunners, starless or not, was enough to make me feel like a full-blooded fan.

Considering the Nebraska season just passed, it was good to get a win even if I never could've comprehended wanting it three or four years ago. The championship is now more than a month away, but I'm at least confident now when I say, C'mon you Spurs!