Tuesday, September 16, 2008
This fantastic piece on the Champions League's obscurities, aside from its own merits, took me back: to the days when I would burrow into two- and three-week-old British newspapers that somehow washed ashore in the University of Montana's crypt-like Mansfield Library. This was before John McCain invented the Internet (or, as we called them on their advent, "The Wires"), and European football existed on the same approximate American consciousness level as Bhutanese politics. (Not like today, as the game nears French-politics-level, with Cristiano Ronaldo in the Carla Bruni role.) In those sepia-toned days of yore, I would always look out for Amy Lawrence, because I thought her writing some of the freshest, and her columnist photo one of the fittest, if you know what I mean. Eighty-five years later, it's good to see that she's still on her game.