Chicago Pioneers Football Club

So, as an avid football (soccer) fan, I have always wanted to support a team here in the States.  Thing is, my real introduction to football came when I traveled to Europe for the first time.  I was in my early 20's and the learning curve was steep.  It was easy to immerse myself in the game when I lived in London.  As a poor university student, watching footy on the tele was one of the only pleasures I could afford.  Luckily for me, there were always games to watch.

It just so happened that my train station, New Cross Gate, was also the train station for the nearest football club, Millwall.  Their ground, The New Den, was just down the hill from where I lived.  I used to pick up one of the club fanzines whenever I saw it at the newsstand and read up on the team news.  Unfortunately, Millwall had a bit of a reputation, some of it earned and some not, for racism.  It made me hesitant to support the club or to go to The Den to watch a match, since I didn't really have a band of friends to go with me.  Instead, I ended up supporting Charlton Athletic, which was another South London club about a 10 minute bus ride away.  To this day, they remain my club, though they have really fallen on hard times the past 10 years or so.  When I started supporting them, they were a model midsized family club, well run, involved in the community, and with solid, hard working players.  Nowadays, they are anything but that.  But they are still my club.

Living in London, the easy thing to do would have been to latch onto one of the hugely successful London clubs, like Arsenal.  Since the mid 90's when I lived in London, Chelsea Football Club (with their Russian millionaire owner) have become a force in the game.  And now, Tottenham Hotspur are a club on the rise, with a new stadium under construction and a very good team on the pitch.  But supporting a North London club while living in South London would have been something of a betrayal.  Sort of like living on the North Side of Chicago and being a White Sox fan.  I mean, it happens, but it usually isn't done.  I never took the easy road and supported one of the big London clubs, because that's not where I lived.

In the 20 plus years since, football has caught on in the States (somewhat).  There is the MLS.  But I've never taken to it, even though Chicago has had a team for a while.  I know that by default I fell into that hated group of football fans who thought they were "too good" for the MLS because they preferred European, Mexican, or South American football.  And I was alright with that.  I thought the MLS was a joke, with all the ripped off team names and all the nonsense.  I still laugh whenever I hear "Real" or "Sporting" or "United" associated with the silly teams of the MLS.  I mean, what a lack of originality!

When I came back to Chicago to finally finish college, naturally I designed a concept for my Chicago football team.  I came up with the name "Pioneers" because Chicago has a rich history of being ahead of the curve.  And I don't mean "pioneers" in the sense of the people who traveled to settle the Western territories, though it is true that Chicago was once "the West."  But I mean the city was a leader in industry, in shipping, in architecture, in science, in the arts, in music.  So "Pioneers" seemed an apt moniker.  I used a ship to symbolize the pioneering spirit.  Chicago is on Lake Michigan, so a ship on water also seemed to fit the concept, though it's not an original idea.  There are plenty of football teams from shipping centers who have a ship in their emblem.  But I went with it anyway.

I designed the badge for The Pioneers directly from a sketch I made while at Columbia College Chicago about 20 years ago.  One day when I become a bazillionaire and the football club finally becomes a reality, the sketch of the original badge - on a crumpled piece of art paper - will be framed and prominently displayed in the club museum.  Heh.

Logo Redesign: Club Atlético de Madrid

This one really pisses me off.  It pisses me off because Atlético have one of most unique badges in European football.  It's close to perfect, and I see no reason to mess with it.  Naturally, the club have decided that they need a re-brand.  Maybe it has to do with them moving into their new stadium next season.  Perhaps someone figured a new stadia needed a new logo.

Atlético de Madrid are a huge club in Spain.  They're the third most successful club in the country and have a rich history, beginning in 1903 as an offshoot of The Athletic Club in Bilbao.  They are known as the "colchoneros" or "mattress makers" because of the unique red and white striped shirts of their uniform.  In the 1930's mattresses in Spain were commonly covered with red and white striped fabric.  Athletic Club wear the same stripes, since they have a common history.  And yet, Atleti's shirts with bright blue shorts are quintessentially them.  You know that kit anywhere, and you know that badge anywhere.  

Atlético's old badge is pure class.  It incorporates the colors of the team, the famous red and white stripes sit asymetrically under a blue triangle.  I'm not sure what the stars signify, but there are seven of them.  Inside the blue triangle is a white one, upon which sits the bear and the strawberry tree, a very old motif that has long been used to represent the city of Madrid.  

Their new logo reminds me of a lame logo for an MLS team.  Almost every MLS badge is either tacky as fuck, or a ripoff of an existing badge (usually from an existing European team with years of history).  What they've gone for with the new badge is a bigger bear and tree (for which they had to turn the bear and have him facing to the right).  To make matters worse, they've decided to screw with the traditional colors, opting for a darker red and blue.  The stripe are no longer off center.  Add to that the white stars, and the whole thing looks like some odd American flag ripoff.  Dreadful.  

So, I took my design back to the traditional shape of the badge, tweaked the bear and tree, changed to the new color scheme (which I hate) and I figured I'd leave it at that.  A sort of compromise to whatever the hell their new vision is.  Like I said at the outset, their current badge is awesome.  If it were me, I wouldn't do anything to it but tweak the bear and tree.  If what they want is to eliminate colors in the original badge (the green, black and brown)  in order the help with the printing or execution of the logo in various mediums, then I'm willing to go with red, white, and blue for the color palette . . . but preferably the old red, white, and blue.

Logo Redesign: Fulham Football Club

Fulham got their latest badge in 2001, riding the minimalist wave.  Thing is, it's so plain and uninspiring, I just don't get how it ever got approved.  Granted, they've historically had some pretty complicated badges, and almost always based on the Borough of Fulham's coat of arms, which itself is pretty complex.  In going for something completely different, I think they fell a little short.  The new badge isn't at all interesting on its own, nor does it reference anything uniquely Fulham.  It's new, but it's so dull.  I suppose the only thing about it that references the actual club itself are the colors.  Fulham's kit is primarily white and black, with red as the secondary color.

Fulham isn't a huge club, but it's an old club,  It was established in 1879, making it the oldest professional football club in London.  That's a pretty cool distinction.  Not as famous as neighbors Chelsea Football Club, Fulham still have history and a loyal fan base.

I took inspiration from their ground, Craven Cottage.  It sits right along the River Thames, and the ground was developed around (and gets its name from) an actual cottage, first built in 1780 by William Craven, the sixth Baron Craven.  That cottage became the pavilion for the football club when the ground was redesigned by the famous Scottish architect, Archibald Leitch, in 1904.  The red bricked main stand and cottage are architectural landmarks, Grade II listed buildings.

The gable of the cottage was my jumping off point for the new badge.   Gables are repeated on top of the main stand, as well.  The ground is old school, with four stands.  It hasn't been turned into a thoroughly modern, sleek stadium yet.  Fulham have played there since 1896, so it is a very important and historical part of the club.  While many clubs have moved to bigger and more modern facilities, or others have had a history of having played at many different venues, Fulham has the distinction of having played at Craven Cottage for almost their entire existence. So I definitely wanted to pay homage to Craven Cottage when I designed the new badge.

 I went predominantly black and white, with red accents.  And I stuck with "FFC" which is a motif repeated throughout the old main stand.   I put the founding date of the club, since it pays tribute to the fact that Fulham is London's oldest professional club.  Lastly, I added the wavy bands at the bottom of the badge to mark the club's proximity to the River Thames.

Logo Redesign: Leeds United Football Club

Lately I've been on a bit of a logo redesign spree.  I will be posting some of them in order to document them.

Leeds United Football Club has had its current badge since 1998 or so.  They have had various incarnations since the club's inception in 1919, but I find their current badge pretty uninspiring.  The team is generally referred to as "The Whites," though they have also been known as "The Peacocks."  Traditionally, they wear all white or predominantly white on the field. as their home uniform.  Secondary colors are yellow and blue.

Leeds is a huge city, and Leeds United has, at times, been one of the biggest football clubs in England.  They've been kind of off the radar for a while, but I didn't pick them for a branding update based on recent successes.  I picked them because I hate their lame badge.

As you can see, historically, they haven't exactly had the most awesome designs.  Badges on shirts really weren't all that big until later on in the 20th century.  But these days, a good logo goes a long way, especially in a global sport like football.  Leeds is located in West Yorkshire, and oftentimes they have had the Yorkshire Rose as their default symbol.  I decided to ditch that altogether.  And go back to the peacock theme of years past.  In truth, I should have gone for a completely new look and a completely new direction, but since I don't live in Leeds, and am not an avid Leeds supporter, I really wouldn't know where to begin.

I went with a stylized peacock for the redesign, a predominately white design, with an emphasis on blue and less of an emphasis on yellow.  I also liked the idea of going back to a round badge.  There aren't a lot of teams with round badges in English football.  The peacock seemed to fit nicely inside the circle.  I made countless variations, including many with a more traditional shaped English badge.  But for now, this is the one I have chosen to present.  "LUFC" is also the way the team has chosen to brand themselves, probably to differentiate from when they were known as "Leeds United Association Football Club."  For the purposes of this project, I stuck with "LUFC."

Overall, I am happy with my redesign.  I think the stylized peacock can stand alone as a logo, or work well with the club initials or full name.  I like the idea of a stand alone visual icon as the main representation of the club, though I recognize there might be a need for the club's name to be more prominently displayed.  We are in an age of simplification, and a lot of football badge redesigns are very minimalistic.  It's a trend that some people hate, but in general, I am a minimalist at heart.  The truth is, a club's identification has to work in a variety of mediums and sizes.  It has to work well in a small size like on club stationary or a huge scale, such as on the side of stadium.  And that is why simplicity is usually the way to go.

is rigidity stupidity?

I don’t understand inflexible people.  I don’t understand them, and I never will.  Inflexible people are so difficult to deal with.  Normally, I try my darndest to steer clear of them, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.  Thing is, when I come across an inflexible person, they usually wear their inflexibility proudly, like some badge of honor.  They prattle on about how they are the way they are, and they’re never gonna change.  They like the way they are; they like the status quo.  They really don’t see any room for improvement and they haven’t a clue as to why you’re so over them.  I mean, I guess it takes balls to be that myopic, that delusional or that self-absorbed that you cannot fathom why your intransigence might be a little galling to your neighbor.  Nevertheless, it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

I don’t believe that people can’t change their ways.  We can change anything about ourselves . . . if we want to.  Desire to change is the key.  And if you don’t want to, well then you won’t.  Simple as that.  So it’s not that you can’t change, it’s that you don’t want to.  And I guess that has all to do with one’s ego.  It’s true that inflexibility usually goes hand in hand with other equally irksome character flaws, such as lack of perspective, and a lack of self-awareness.  When you can’t see outside of yourself, when you can’t step back and look at the ‘big picture’, well that’s when your blinders really do you a disservice.  You’re not living in reality, you’re living in your own little delusional world, where your view reigns supreme and your word is law. 

Being inflexible means thumbing your nose at personal growth, at progress.  It means sitting your ass down on the highway of life and flipping your finger at everyone else as they try to get around you.  And make no mistake, you’re a fucking obstacle; you’re a roadblock; you’re dead weight to anyone unfortunate enough to have to deal with you.  You’re a big bag of sand, only sand has more value.

As a youth, my mother was the most inflexible person I knew.  It’s no judgment in saying this.  If asked, she’d most likely agree.  At least she’d agree with my assessment of her during that time.  One of my most vivid memories of my mom as a teenage was her always defending any position or opinion she might have, however flawed or unreasonable, by saying that that’s simply how she felt, it’s what she thought, and that she was too old to change.  It was up to us to understand her and act accordingly.  Of course, as a parent, one has to set boundaries and rules for one’s children to adhere to.  That’s part of the job.  But when explanations are called for or when there are doubts or confusion, you honestly need to give your captive audience a little more to chew on than, ‘That’s just how it is and that’s just how I am, so deal.’  I mean to say, that doesn’t really give a kid much to grab onto, and it sure as hell doesn’t teach him shit.  If anybody else gave you that response, you’d be like, ‘Piss off.’  Why wouldn’t you have the same reaction to your mom or dad saying it?  Just cos they’re your mom or dad? 

Funny thing about my mom is that she’s a completely different person than she was back then.  She’s changed monumentally, so much so that sometimes I barely recognize her.  Of course, there are a bazillion reasons as to why she might have changed, innumerable variables.  She’s older, parenting is one of those ‘learn as you go’ kinda things.  She was growing and developing, just as her children were growing and developing.  She wasn’t stuck in time.  She was adapting.  And so even though she blew the horn of inflexibility whenever the mirror of self-reflection was thrust at her, she couldn’t have been more mistaken about herself.  She blossomed like no one expected, least of all herself probably.  And if she could do it, I pretty much think anybody can. 

I always felt indifferent about my mom growing up.  We were so different.  She was just a person I lived with, really.  A roommate I barely knew or understood.  I took it for granted that things would never change between us.  I remember once telling her that it was okay if we didn’t really like one another because there was no law that said parents and children had to like each other.  And I really felt that.  I was completely resigned to the fact that we were never going to like each other or get along.  And I was cool with that, surprisingly.  I suppose it was because I was so detached as a kid.  And a bit gloomy.  But I couldn’t have been more wrong about us.  And I don’t know if has more to do with her or more to do with me; I don’t know the how or why or when of it.  I just know that the relationship I have with my mom today is truly one of the most cherished relationships I have or will ever have.  Maybe we were both stubborn and inflexible back then, and we’ve both grown up and chilled out?  Alls I know is that we are different, better people.  And we understand each other, perhaps because we understand ourselves so much more than we did back in the days when we were at war.

As I’ve gotten older I realize that I have less and less patience.  Honestly, patience was never my thing.  And so to think that I have less of it than I had is a little scary.  Cos I really didn’t have all that much to begin with.  The things I have the least patience for are things that I feel are correctable, because not correcting things means wasting precious energy and time.  And life is in constant motion.  People without vision, without perspective; people who are stuck in time and refuse to grow.  Those are the people I have no patience for, because those things are all correctable.  I just can’t abide myopic people who can’t see past their own noses and notice how irritating their self-absorbed laziness is.  I am no longer a sullen teenager struggling for recognition.  And although decorum and politeness prevent me from hurling epithets at those people happily blocking traffic on my highway of life, deep down, I truly am saying ‘Piss off!’

adventure time

Well, I managed to drop off the face of the earth for eight months.  Actually, I didn't drop off the face of the earth so much as I was too busy living my life to keep up with my blog.  That happens sometimes.  Sometimes, you just get wrapped up in living in the real world and everything else takes a back seat.  At least, it happens with me.
I went away for a while, mostly to reconnect with the people and places I love.  All of that left little time for my online persona.  So I suppose I had to disconnect in order to reconnect.  But now I'm back.  So there.

no children were harmed in the writing of this post

Not long ago, I was at work and I happened to pass by the bar and caught a snippet of a conversation.  There was a couple sitting there, regulars, eating and drinking and chatting with the bartender.

Mr and Mrs Smith, lets say, are the type of people that make working in the restaurant business a dream.  They are super polite and friendly, without being overbearing or intrusive.  They are always well aware that while they are out having a good time, you are working.  And they respect that.  They never demand too much of your time or attention, but they have no problem engaging you in genuine conversation if you have a few minutes to spare.  Best of all, they treat you as a human being; as an equal . . . despite the real fact that (technically speaking) you are serving them.  They are always dressed nicely, but never over the top.  Sometimes, they come in after spending the day on their boat or with friends, and they're all in t-shirts and shorts.  But they never look like they've just rolled out of bed.  Mrs Smith has a nice diamond wedding ring on her finger.  I never caught what she did (or still does) for a living.  Mr Smith works for an airline.  They've got money, I presume.  Enough money to be relatively comfortable, though they don't have a snobbish bone in their bodies.  Mr Smith is balding, and Mrs Smith is the sort of women who still has her nice features, and who looks great with her silver hair.

The conversation with the bartender revolved around children, and I take it they'd been chatting for a bit on the subject.  Not surprising, since just about everyone I work with has kids, and people with kids tend to talk about their kids . . . even at work . . . and to complete strangers.

I wonder why that is?  I don't have any kids, myself, though I've helped to raise a few.  I was ten years old when my little brother was born, and right from the get-go I was changing diapers, bathing, dressing, feeding and burping him.  His father (my step-father) was not much of a 'hands-on' kind of dad back then.  Most Latino men aren't actually.  For the most part, they take their 'parental' roll as getting their wives pregnant and posing for the photo-ops.  But they don't actually want to change diapers and wake up in the middle of the night to rock the baby back to sleep.  That's 'mom' work.  Of course, that's a bit of a cultural and generational stereotype, but there's some truth to it.  Just ask my step-father.

I filled in the gaps as my brother grew up.  I felt like it was biggest responsibility of my young life, and I took it very seriously.  By the time I was grown and my older brother and sister started cranking out the kids, I was well prepared.  I found nothing daunting about child rearing.  It was old hat for me.  Still, I wonder if I ever bored people with talk of my niece or nephew?  I doubt it.  Probably because they weren't actually my kids to brag about.  And probably because it's not my style.  I know most parents do, though.  And I suppose there's nothing actually wrong with talking about your kids to whomever might listen.  The only caveat should be that you talk about them to a willing and receptive audience.  I've always detested people who think their kids are God's gift and can do no wrong; or that they are so brilliant and fascinating that you'd be a fool to miss out on every achievement their child makes; or whose children are far too special to order anything 'off the menu.'  Worst of all, I hate people who plaster their kids accomplishments on the rear bumpers and windshields of their cars. "My son is an honor student and Blah Blah Academy".  "My daughter plays rugby".  Really?  Nobody gives a shit, expect you.  And maybe your kid.  So feel free to stop sharing with the rest of us.  We didn't ask.

As I strolled past the bar, I heard Mrs Smith say quite calmly, "I never understand why people feel sorry for me when I tell them I don't have any kids.  It was a conscious choice.  I'm not childless . . . I'm child free."

"Amen!" I answered.  And I heard the Smiths both giggle as I walked away.

I realized then why they always seemed so happy when they came into the restaurant, and why they always took their time to eat and drink.  Why they always seemed so well-dressed and put together.  Why Mrs Smith's hair always looked so nice, and why Mr Smith always tipped so well.  They have no kids.

More importantly, Mrs Smith's assertion about being "child free" made me think in general about the arrogance of people with kids, especially in the United States, and especially Christians in the United States.  There's a huge segment of our population who think that having children and propagating the species is the end-all-be-all, and that anyone who isn't littering the planet with their offspring is either crazy, lazy, misguided, a heathen, or simply not a very good Christian.  It's as though one isn't complete without children, and ones life is devoid of any real meaning.  They go around, consciously or not, judging anyone who didn't make the same commitment they did, to embark on a life of parenting.  It's asinine, and it's so commonplace.  But hearing Mrs Smith reminded me of how awesome it is when you choose a path for yourself and commit to it, no matter how unpopular.  It's when you do that you can live with your head held high, without the slightest inclination to offer up excuses for your choices.

Well played!

what's past is past . . . (most of the time)

I'm not really sure why, but I'm not a very nostalgic person.  I mean to say, I don't wax nostalgic about things or people in my past.  I guess if I think about it, I'm a very 'in the moment' kinda guy.  I don't know if I was always this way, but I'm certainly this way now.

The reason I mention it, is because for whatever reason, I was Google-ing a bunch of Chicago stuff.  Probably because I'll be there in a month.  I started thinking about the stuff I want to see, because I want to document it somewhat.  This is because my summer trip will be the first time since I moved away in 2001 that I will be visiting Chicago on my own terms.  I'm not going for someone else's event, or some crisis.  I'm going for myself.  And as such, I'm giving some thought to what I want to do and where I want to go exploring.

In this frame of mind, as I think about the city I grew up in, I have no choice but to dig into the old memory banks to envision the city and the things and places I loved about it.  This is because its been forever since I actually lived there.  I've got nothing to go on but memories.  And forcing myself to go back in time has made me realize that I never go back in time.  I mean, I never really give much thought to the things I used to do or the people I used to know.  And I wonder why that is?

It's not as though I don't keep in touch with people from my past.  Pretty much all of my core friends are friends I have know for 15 years or more.  And most of them are still in Chicago.  So, I've hung onto people.  But I suppose I don't give much thought to the people I haven't hung onto (or who haven't hung onto me).  Maybe that's cos I just accept that in one's lifetime, many people will float in and out of one's life.  And though in that moment in time, it may seem as though they will be in your life til the day you die, that's not often the case.  People move on, figuratively and literally.  You move on.  And that's that.  It's the nature of things.  Life goes on.

I mean, if I think about it, I've had friends that I was so attached to, I probably couldn't imagine living without them . . . while I knew them.  And today, I haven't the foggiest idea where they are or what they are up to or what kind of people they turned out to be.  And what's more, I never give it any thought.  So I guess that means I'm pretty unsentimental.  Or maybe I'm just realistic?

An extreme example of my lack of nostalgia involves my father, by which I mean my actual, biological father.  He and my mom were divorced shortly after I was born.  And then my mother remarried in haste, and the family moved to Chicago to start anew, never to return to Puerto Rico.  We did go back, of course.  Every summer, my mother would pack us up and make us spend our summer vacations in Puerto Rico, bonding with the relatives.  It was torture for me as a child, but I had no choice but to obey.  Inevitably, part of the summer would be spent with my father (and his new wife and kids).  My mother thought it was vital that we spend time with him, even though every year that passed, he became more and more of a stranger to me and I felt no bond with him whatsoever.

Eventually in our teens, my mother actually asked my brother and I if we wanted to go to Puerto Rico for the summer.  Immediately, we said "NO!"  Not just because going there meant stepping back in time somewhat, to interact with a strict, Catholic family that was still living in the Dark Ages in many ways.  But because as kids living in Chicago, and being cooped up and bundled up for so many months of the year during our frigid winters, we looked forward to the summertime with so much anticipation.  That's when everyone went out, did things, partied, had fun, etc.  And every summer, my brother and I were whisked away to spend it with our dull, stiff family, only to return to Chicago to hear about all the fun our friends had while we were away.  It sucked.  Once our mother finally gave us the option to stay in the city or go to the island, the choice was an easy one to make, especially for me, who had secretly grown to detest my father and  most of my other relatives by that point.  Free at last!

A few years ago, when my mother retired and decided to move back to her homeland, she got a visit from her first husband, my father.  I guess in his old age, he wanted to see my mom and reconcile with her for past wrongs.  I can understand that.  After all, he was a real shit to her.  Oddly enough, my mother was very indifferent about seeing him again, which surprised me.  She had always defended him in my youth, and I can remember many a lecture given to me whenever I spoke ill of him or expressed how little I cared for him.   "He is your father," she would tell me, "and one day he will need you."  I couldn't have cared less.  This was a man who never sent me a birthday card or a Christmas present.  I resented even having to pretend that I liked him.  But pretend I did, because it's what my mother wanted.  She was so determined that we have a "relationship" with him.  But how can you have a relationship with someone whom you don't even know?

Shortly after his visit to see my mother, she called me.  She spoke about it so matter-of-factly that I was genuinely surprised.  I suppose she had moved on in every way there was to move on from the heartbreak and disappointment.  To her, it must have seemed a lifetime ago, and a bit absurd for the two of them to have any kind of intimate dialog.  But she didn't call me to confess that.  She called to let me know that my father was very, very interested in seeing me.  I guess she wanted to give me the head's up.  He'd already seen my brother, and I was next on his list, I guess.  She said he expressed a genuine desire to get to know me.

He Facebook friend requested me.  That was like six years ago.  And I haven't accepted his request yet.  I'm not on Facebook all that much anyway, but when people bitch to me that I haven't accepted their friend request quickly enough, I chime back that my own father has been waiting for years to has his friend request accepted.  And he's still waiting.  Well, I doubt he's waiting.  He was never really into things for the long haul.  I'm sure he's forgotten all about it by now.   He made his gesture.

But my point is that after someone ceases to matter in your life, that's pretty much it . . . most of the time.  I mean, it's hard to look back, or to intertwine your existence with someone else's when they've left your life for some period of time.  At least, it is for me.  Not that I am against the notion of having wonderful people return into my life.  Not at all.  I'm totally open to reuniting when the circumstances allow.  But I guess I'm content with what I have at the moment.  Or I consciously or unconsciously don't dwell on the past.  I'm just not overly sentimental.  And that's that.