Soccer Diplomacy, Meet Jousting Diplomacy

The U.S. Men's National Team plays a World Cup qualifier in Havana, the first time the U.S. team has been to Cuba since 1947. Today's game is special to me for two reasons. First, I need the U.S. MNT to qualify so I can buy a discounted follow-your-team ticket at the 2010 World Cup in South Africa and, second, my parents are from Cuba and I'm Cuban American. The broader reason why the game is special is that both countries are baseball countries, yet they'll be meeting today at a soccer match. Soccer is a sport both general populations know little about.

Despite sharing baseball as a national pastime, a national U.S. baseball team hasn't been to Cuba since the revolution. “Baseball diplomacy” never happened, though the potential has been there. (For non-American readers: The United States has had a trade and tourism embargo against Cuba since Castro's alignment with Krushchev forty-six years ago. But you, dear non-American reader, get to go as you please, drink Havana Club rum, and smoke a Cohiba without reproach. Vale entonce, as we say in the diaspora.)

In the Middle Ages a form of sports diplomacy punctuated the politics and intrigue of daily life. It was a great festival, known in Middle High German as hôchgezíte. Notice the word's resemblance to the New High German word for wedding, Hochzeit. Knights from different territories and families accepted invitations to compete against each other in games, sports, and poetry competitions.

In the Nibelungenlied, a collection of 39 books from the 12th century about the sword-wielding Lady Kriemhild, a sports festival honors the dubbing of Siegfried as knight. It's the first festival scene in the Nibelungenlied and the last in which all participants are at peace with one another. Happiness-to-grief is a running motif.

“mit leide was verendet | des Küniges hôchgezíte”

Here's hoping today's soccer diplomacy doesn't foreshadow more grief between the two countries. There are some tough times ahead for Cuban and American relations, if past examples are any indication. The activist in me would love to see the embargo lifted and relations normalized. The philosopher in me doesn't mind the embargo, because lifting it will mean a Starbucks on every corner, hordes of tourists, and aggressive neocolonial business dealings. Therefore, here's to the Nibelungenlied – with its mix of emotional sensitivity and martial brutality – it makes for propaedeutic reading in uncertain times.

Foreboding on Neutral Grounds

Canada’s national team has announced fixtures for two upcoming international friendlies. I know, that really isn’t the most exciting news item. But the locations for the matches are noteworthy. Canada will “host” Brazil in Seattle on May 31. Then they “host” Panama in Ft. Lauderdale in June. The match against Panama is, for whatever reason, closed to the public. I can’t find any articles explaining why they're playing their "home games" abroad; North American soccer rarely piques anyone’s interest. Nevertheless CONCACAF, a FIFA-demarcated region for World Cup qualification, is getting more competitive. Baseball countries like Panama and the United States are improving in soccer, while soccer countries like Mexico, Guatemala, and Costa Rica have restless fans with rising expectations. Only three countries from North America, Central America, and the Caribbean (there are 40 countries in CONCACAF) can qualify for the World Cup. Canada hasn’t fared well. The national team didn’t qualify for the 2006 World Cup, though Canadian athletes are active in competitive leagues abroad. Providence could grant the team good results when they host their friendlies in a neutral country, however some examples in literature suggest trouble on the horizon. Festivities on neutral grounds are usually the high point before a heartbreaking denouement.

In Theodor Fontane’s 1887 social novel Irrungen, Wirrungen, two people of different classes, the humble Lene and the Baron Botho, fall in love. The highlight of their courtship is a party at Hankels Ablage, a waterside locale outside Berlin that serves as a neutral setting. After that their relationship sours. Botho realizes from the party that he can’t be normal with her in front of the other aristocrats. Lene realizes she’s better off with the factory owner Gideon, who is in any case less pathetic than the Baron.

Another pair of young lovers is Sali and Vrenchen from Gottfried Keller’s 1856 novella Romeo und Julia auf dem Dorfe. Entrenched enmity between their fathers means the two Swiss farmers’ kids can see no future together. They decide to spend one day happy together, enjoy a meal at an inn, and dance at the neutral grounds of the Paradiesgärtchen. They spend their bridal night on a barge and at dawn slip into the water to drown.