Only in Defeat

Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?
That is the only time a man can be brave.

-Game of Thrones

How can you be supporters when your team loses?
It’s only when our team loses that we can truly be supporters.

Losing hurts.

Always has, always will. If defeat doesn’t sting then did you really lose? If losing what you were fighting for doesn’t hurt did you really care? Do you really need it? Why did you fight at all?

Detroit City fell to the Bucks three to nil. Three. to. nil.

Saying it hurts.

It hurts to lose.

You might be able to tell from the pictures in the papers, but what I am saying is true. Detroit City lost to the Bucks. But what of it? We lost. Fuck the Bucks, we have a game to think about on Friday. We move on. When the team came over we embraced them (often literally). We chanted and waved flags. There was a party in Detroit and no one slept that night.

But it hurts. We bury that pain deep down, we look to better days, we move on. But it throbs at the base of our necks and until the next victory there will be nothing to cure it.

However, even in defeat there is victory.

The real battle is in the stands. Every article on the event can be summed up like this:

Dan Duggan’s Michigan Bucks beat Detroit City FC 3 – 0. They played nice soccer. But you can’t tell from our gallery of images because the Northern Guard show up, made themselves at home, and then chanted like madmen for 90 minutes plus stoppage. They were so awesome that even Bucks fans left DCFC fans. Kids loved them, parents wanted to be with them, and in the end that’s all that mattered. Because DCFC lost the battle but is winning the war.

Give or take 500 words.

We won because the battle wasn’t just on the field. It was off it as well. It was in front offices, in the stands, and in the minds of those there. When the Bucks show up with no sponsors and we have Metro Detroit Chevy Dealers; when Ultimate is decked out in Sam’s Hardware and Nobody Bank and we have Henry Ford Health System and Flagstar Bank. We have an official beer, an official bank, outreach programs, charities, and presence. The Buck’s have… well… they have a lot of silverware.

And let’s be honest – the Buck’s have a long, storied history… that no one cares about. What’s a history if no one reads it? Nothing. It is a book collecting dust on a shelf. Twenty years of obscurity and the best you can do is go on about how you never really meant for it to be a fan experience?

Yeah. Whatever.

Detroit City FC can walk out head held up high. We lost. So what? It hurts, but we’ll move on. We’ll remember this if we meet again. And in the end, the battle on the pitch was a small slice of a bigger battle. A battle of culture.

So fuck it.

Fuck you Daniel Duggan. Fuck you and your shitty fucking team and your shitty fucking pricing plan. Yeah. Don’t act like we wouldn’t fucking notice you dropped the price of tickets once DCFC wasn’t involved you two-faced price-swapping twat.

Go fuck yourself.

Fuckyouzard

Relegation

We talk promotion and relegation a lot on this site. A long time ago I said that most Americans probably support pro/rel because they want their team in the MLS and nothing else – they don’t actually support the system, just their team – which is 100% fine, just be honest about it.

Pro/rel seems like a really good idea when you are at the bottom, when all you have is “up”.

What’s it like when it seems like everything is spiraling downward?

Well let me tell you.

My name is Nick Kendall and I am a magpie.

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I love Newcastle United. I have irrationally clung to this team since I picked them nearly at random freshmen year of college to fit in with the other EPL fans. Why? ‘Cuz beer. Because they have the same black/white get up as Kendal Town. Because they felt like the kind of team I wanted to root for – not big, not fancy, not filled to the brim with over-paid twats. Hometown heroes, beloved by a passionate and dedicated group of fans.

All these years later, I will never stop rooting for Newcastle. But rooting for Newcastle can be hard. It seems like every season is a challenge but somehow we nearly always pull out of the stall.

This year?

This season?

None of us are sure. None of us are sure what is happening as we lose game after game after game. As the interim coach makes every mistake in the book. As the players revolt, as the fans let out a sigh of desperation. As boycotts go underway. As the owner is investigated by the government. As everyone points fingers at everyone else.

A trip to /r/nufc is a sad one.

You can hear it through voiceless text.

Defeat. Pain. Agony. Eventually it becomes subdued, emotionless, surrendered.

Relegation is hard.

I’ve already dealt with relegation once as a fan. It isn’t any easier the second time. It really shakes you to your core.

Americans who bang on and on and on about pro/rel probably haven’t dealt with it like this. Haven’t seen a decent team that can be dangerous when in form, fail so spectacularly, so unprecedentedly, and so completely.

I know there are fans of yo-yo teams out there who deal with it every alternative year. I’m sure it sucks. I’m sure getting into top-tier is pretty awesome too.

Newcastle isn’t supposed to be in this fight.

We’re supposed to skate by in 11th place like always, comfortably above this fight and comfortably below the “good teams”.

The hardest part, when a team fails like this, is what do you do? We have three games left, they are all critically important to the club, but if we win all three does that mean the idiot man-child Carver stays? That we are potentially stuck with him for a whole season or more? If we lose and get relegated, can we still get a decent replacement? Will we be considered so poisonous no “real” coach will consider us? What about Mike Ashley our ass-hat owner?

In my book the best scenario is win two. As long as we stay above. We need to win and stay alive, but we need to lose in the end to make sure the season ends on a sour note. We need to get rid of Carver. We know the rot is deep. The real problem is Mike Ashley who has time and time made sure that we the fans know that he doesn’t care about winning – only making money.

The club is literally in his debt and not in a mushy emotional way. Literally. We owe him wads and wads of cash because he’s essentially schemed that even if forced to sell the club is still stuck in his shadow. The Ashley years will go down as disastrous to the club both internationally and domestically.

Mediocrity has become our lot and going so far as to ask for a decent team gets met with a bunch of ManU/Chelsea/Liverpool/ManCity/Arsenal fans putting us back into our “place.” The same twats who constantly bemoan finishing fourth, falling 3-2 in the cup final, getting a single yellow card, or – gods forbid – even losing a game.

Yeah, we’re the one with unrealistic demands.

Is it so much to ask that our team be decent? That it be watchable? That whenever I answer the question “What team do you root for?” I don’t have to preface it with a sigh and a look of indignation?

Is it so much to ask that players not be sold simply for Ashley’s bottom line? That we allow talent to blossom? That we actually hire a manager and not a fucking “head coach”?

That for one, single, solitary, fucking, season I watch my team with a small slice of dignity while we sit comfortably at 9th.

9th.

That’s all this magpie asks. Is that too much?

Unless we get relegated, then it better be fucking 1st.

 

 

On Moons, Barycenters, and What you Put into your Work

Been writing a lot recent.

Not here, though, mostly in my books, which I am still trying to – you know – get published. I’ve been quiet because I have Sun-King out with both an agent and an editor and have quietly had my fingers crossed. I also lost my copy-editor, but that’s okay because my last few first readers are wrapping up (hopefully).

With the new prologue and the new chapter one, people’s reactions have greatly improved – and in rewriting it so has my skill (I think). It took a very rude awakening but I thank those deconstructive readers very much for really not holding back and giving it to me straight. It is what I needed and it worked. Thanks gentlemen who probably avoid this site like the plague.

Recently I’ve gone from one fantasy writing sin (too much conlanging) to the other (too much thinking and science). I’ve mentioned on reddit that I’ve always enjoyed small consistencies. To me a little nod to physics or reality is like looking at the fine details of a painting or the tiny, intricate shapes of a statue. It can really show a writer’s love or perhaps a second passion.

Last year I talked about moons. Namely I talked about moons in my books, the three that orbit the world my stories take place in. They go by many names in different languages and they are storied and worshiped. But they are also consistent.

The three moons in my world orbit in a 1:2:4 resonance, in the same positions as the inner-most Galilean moons (Io, Europa, Ganymede). But unlike the Jovian moons they are grey and dusty like our own moon.

It was important to me that the moons orbit correctly, that I know what phases they are in, how big they look in the sky, and how quickly they move. These facts would dictate to the writer what a character can and cannot be seeing. For example new moons rarely follow full moons. We also rarely think about how big the moon really is and how it grows and shrinks, and though I didn’t go as far as to make more advanced libation cycles  or eclipse cycles.

But I did use some simplified equations to figure out how far apart they are, how big they appear, when they appear, cataloging all this gave me a sense of being an astronomer in this world. How do I figure out these things? Where does the planet fit? Like we often think about the moon orbiting the Earth, but it isn’t so simple.

The Earth/Moon system orbit a barycenter or a center of mass. That center of mass is inside the Earth but it isn’t the center of the Earth – it is actually more than 4,600 km from the center, about 73% of the Earth’s radius. It is this point that traces the orbit around the Sun and it means that Earth doesn’t just rotate, it rocks back and forth as it “orbits” the barycenter. If this point was above the Earth’s surface, by most definitions the Moon wouldn’t be a satellite anymore, it would be a planet in a binary planet system. (There are other definitions that might already consider the Moon a planet rather than a simple satellite.)

This started going down a path that lead to at least one scene I really like and I hope other people enjoy- a scene that is unique to this system. And it’s as accurate as I am willing to get.

The system in Sun-King (and that series as a whole) has some fun tidbits hidden in it, but by far my favorite is the work put into the moons. I’d love to be able to sit on my deck and watch as two moons reach their zenith together, or seeing the nearest rise alone in its full glory.

On a tangent thought – what if the Earth/Moon system were both tidally locked to the other?  That is to say, what if one face of the Earth always pointed the Moon? What happens when people from the moonless side go to the mooned side? Could you imagine? What if the European explorers reached the Americas and there was this big, extra light in the sky?

Their little heads would have exploded.

Funny to think about.

ONE HUNDRED PERCENT

Now my site actually fills up your screen. Enjoy.

Also, I’m not dead – just busy.

 

Also, also to Dunes8 on imgur. Until they properly balance the first stage of the game, Starbound will always be a shitty knock-off of Terraria that tries to distract you from its lack of depth with spaceships.

 

feRg8FX

A Cup, A City, and a Deer

May 13th is going to be a strange day, it’ll be strange because for ninety minutes the world will revolve around three things: a cup, a city, and a deer.

Sure the lingering issues of the modern world will continue to linger long after the echos die down and two radically different clubs go their separate ways – but for ninety minutes there will be a microcosm in a little tin can in the northern suburbs of Detroit when le Rouge take on the Bucks in the first round of the Lamar Hunt United States Open Cup, the oldest national soccer competition in the United States and the third oldest in the world.

So let us begin our meandering tale there: what the fuck is the US Open Cup?

The fact that you don’t know what the oldest soccer competition in the United States is doesn’t surprise me in the least. Which is sad. The Open Cup is a knock-out tournament that involves all levels of soccer in the United States starting with semi-professional and adult leagues and working its way, slowly, to the MLS. At first it only involves the low-tier teams, fighting and weeding each other out. Each round another group of teams is added. First USL, then NASL, then finally the big guns walk in, the MLS teams join and then, almost inevitably, come to dominate the competition.

That’s okay, because it is a test. There are prizes for the teams that can stand the test, go the furthest in the face of million dollar players from England. Stand up and just maybe, earn a small piece of soccer history.

The US Open Cup is a special thing, though today it is dragged through the dirt and sand and treated like an unkempt dog. Left to wallow in a corner on the edge of the farmer’s property, eclipsed by his new pure-breed.

See, most other countries don’t have championships like us where half the teams “qualify” and go into a knock-out stage. They have “cups” and most countries have a handful. The season is just a season of normal games. When it ends whoever is on top wins. Cool, no problem – that rewards consistency rather than one lucky goal.

But we like luck, and we like those crazy moments when a rag-tag group of amateurs best a behemoth. That’s what cups are for. Off the top of my head in England the two main-ish trophies are the FA Trophy and the FA Cup. The FA Cup is like the Open Cup – it is for everyone. The FA Trophy, however, ignores the upper tiers in favor of putting the smaller teams against each other. (Thanks to FC Fargo Green Army on twitter for the correction.)

Everyone has a shot.

Yes, it is “unfair” to put a team like Detroit City potentially up against teams like the Seattle Sounders – but that’s the fun. It’s fun to get that chance. It’s fun to see how far your team can go. We’re not expecting Detroit City to win the Open Cup, we want to see how far we can go and what we can prove about soccer, fandom, and Detroit along the way.

That is the magic of the Open Cup – and the USSF squanders it in favor of the MLS Championship. Let’s not beat around the bush, these days it is pretty clear that the line between the USSF and the MLS is very, very blurry. The USSF is supposed to be a neutral party that governs soccer in the United States, including the MLS. But in recent months it seems more likely that the MLS is probably calling more than its fair share of shots – but this is a rant for another day.

The walk away should be that the Open Cup is a knock-out tournie with a ton of history and you should do everything in your power to catch as many games as you can. If you consider yourself a fan of a team or a fan of the sport in general – this is a serious part of our heritage and it deserves fucking better than announcements coming three hours late and from teams rather than the organization.

If I could I’d plea to the USSF to not continue to waste the Open Cup’s potential in favor of a single-league’s stupid knock-out championship. They are very different scenarios and both can co-exist.

Please, stop fucking up the Open Cup.

So that’s the cup. Who are the city and the deer?

Detroit City Football Club (pulling out full names here) and the Michigan Bucks are a strange pair. They’ve never played a game against each other and yet the air between them is already hot, filled with anger and hate – and yes a little jealousy from a certain Dan Duggan.

The Bucks are Dan Duggan’s baby – a PDL side with a long history of crowning achievements brought low by their crushing insignificance. In 2000 the Bucks became the first PDL side to defeat an MLS side – beating the New England Revolution. A feat that they repeated by defeating the Chicago Fire in 2012 only to fall to the Dayton Dutch Lions the next round. How, if that is the case, has no one heard of the Bucks before?

Well, that goes into the gaping maw that divides Detroit City from its older cousin.

The Bucks are an “old-fashioned” team based in nearly ancient 90s mentalities of Disney’d logos and “family friendly” soccer experiences. A stifled, oppressive, and timid atmosphere is all you get in the Buck’s indoor tin can of a field. Fans queue in the tens to buy nachos and sit quietly with their families to watch talented players attempt to impress scouts and then move on, leaving little to no mark on the club or its history.

They are, in short, a prestigious toy for its owner – Dan Duggan, brother to Detroit mayor Mike Duggan. Like a 60-something fawning over a model railway set in the basement, Duggan fawns over his little team and his “control” of the soccering experience in Detroit, something he monopolized from 1995 to 2012, when Detroit City and the Northern Guard finally pushed his team completely out of the minds of Detroiters.

Detroit City came onto the scene like a brick through a window, quickly gathering the latent soccer fans across Southeast Michigan and beyond. We flocked to a team decked in the blood and treasure, enjoyed every sulfurous second of that season, with out banners in the wind and our souls riding high.

Then 2013 came around and we did it again – bigger and better.

Then 2014 came and we grew some more. We got loud, we got noticed. And Duggan’s Buck’s continued to play beautifully but unwatched.

Now comes 2015. Detroit City was a dark house contender for the Open Cup, only slipping in at the last second because another team turned down their spot. From the second it was announced one word fluttered on the lips of anxious Guardsmen everywhere: Bucks.

Fuck the Bucks.

Buck the Fucks.

A smoldering hate that goes from the fans right up to the front offices began to glow and smoke under the gentle blow of a cold spring wind.

Both sides wanted it.

And we got it.

On April 8th, after hours of quiet, the Bucks announced they’d be hosting Detroit City FC in the first round of the Lamar Hunt United States Open Cup.

So here it is.

The club Michigan forgot v The club Michigan can never forget

Old School v New School

No Focus v Culture Focus

Theory v Practice

The rich man’s toy v The working man’s club

Who will prevail?

Fucking Bertha

(Photo – Dion De Gennaro)

minçɪn nedəwaðʌl, dati?

Maidin mhaith.

Spent last night and a bit this morning working on conlanging as a way to distract myself from writing.

The topic that caught my interest and ended up generating quite a bit of vocabulary and vocab was asking questions. This was semi-introduced last time which even started with a question: ɸat æs, de?

In it we learned about dialect and some more complicated things like word order and the question particle. In English we often learn the six question words: who, what, where, when, why, how. There are more. A full list would look like: who, what, where, when, why, how, which, whose, whence, whither, whether.

Some of those are still familiar to us: Which song did you play? Whose album is this?

Some are not: Whence did he come? (Where did he come from?) Whither did he go? (Where did he go to?) Whether chose you? (Which of these two would you choose?)

They probably ring a bell in the way back of your brain, probably from reading some old or poetic piece. Hadysh retains all of them and adds two more. These particles are:

  • dɔma (which)
  • dæxɪmə (whose)
  • dæx (who)
  • dɪn (what)
  • demʃ (where)
  • didæʃ (whence)
  • dɑneʃ (whither)
  • dib (when)
  • dʊçɸ (why)
  • dʌg (whether)
  • de (how)
  • dati (do – ?) Implies a yes/no question
  • dæf (?) Converts a statement into a generic question

As always I have examples and dialect stuff!


Do you have the time? – Single, Formal “you”

[miaçi mʌɹ̝̠̊ʌ, dati]

/miɛçi mʌɹʌ, dɛti/ – Rozenn

/miaçi məɹ̝̠̊ə, dati/ – Einar

This statement uses [dati] but does not imply simple yes/no. The speaker still wishes to know what time it is. It does imply that they want a quick answer. So the reply should be “Half past six” not “Six thirty seven.”

You can switch to requesting an “accurate” answer by making it a generic question with the [dæf] particle.


Where did my dog go to?

[hɹ̝̠̊enəga jamə ɸɔlm, dɑneʃ]

/ɹ̝̠̊enəga jamə ɸɔlm, dɑneʃ/ – Standard formation

/hɹɪnəkɛ jɛmə ɸɔlm, dɔnɪʃ/ – Rozenn

/ɹ̝̠̊enəga jamə fɔlm, dɑneʃ/ – Einar

We’ve been over this strange construction in the first conlang post. The past tense uses [h-] at the beginning of a verb, but the sound cluster [hɹ̝̠̊] is really just a breathy /ɹ̝̠̊/.

But the sound ɹ̝̠̊ doesn’t exist in the Sylian (Rozenn’s) dialect, so the past tense conjugation is more clear.


When were we planning on meeting up? – Inclusive “we”

[θahən kənɔx, dib] (Literally: When do we plan to meet?)

/θɛhən çənɔx, dib/ – Rozenn

/θahən kənɔç, dib/ – Einar

This is the first inclusion of the infinitive of a verb, this is actually a unique conjugation just like future, past, and habitual.  The base form of the verb “to meet” is [nɔx]. The infinitive adds [k-].

The main verb “to plan” is not in the future tense, it starts with [θ] because it is made of the future tense of “to think” but here is present tense. The future of “to plan” is [θɪθahə]. Also strangely the conjugation should be [θahəa], but when a verb ends in a vowel and the conjugation starts with a vowel ([-a] for inclusive we) the vowel of the conjugation becomes [n].


Have you seen Rozenn’s sword? – Plural, Informal “you”

[hjɹæçʌlnaçɪn çeɹiənɪm ɪlpæθ, dæf]

/hjæçʌlnaçɪn çeɹiənɪm ɪlpæθ, dæf/ – Standard formation

/hjaçəlnaçen çeɹiənem elpaθ, daf/ – Einar

The verb “to see” is [ɹæçʌln], the past tense [h-] adds the [j] between the [h] and [ɹ], but the [ɹ] is usually just dropped.

Here we also have the genitive marker [-(n)ɪm] which also softens the word it attaches to, but [çeɹiə] (Rozenn’s name) ends with a vowel.


Does he know how to swim? – Single, Informal “he”

[bɑθæpəga e kəpæg de, dati]

/bɔθɛpəkɛ ɪ çəpɛk’d, dɛti/ – Rozenn

/bɑθapəga e kəpag de, dati/ – Einar

The only thing to note here is that “how to swim” becomes “to swim how” or [kəpæg de].


Whether you a glass of whiskey or a pint of beer? – Sing, Infrm “you”

[æs nʊdlpik ʌt pɔʃ zæ nedan ʌt ætwəɹ, dʌg]

/ɛs nʊdlpik ʌt pɔʃ zɛ nɪdɛn ʌt ɛtwə, dək/ – Rozenn

/as nədlpik ət pɔʃ za nedan ət atvəɹ, dəg/ – Einar

Like in English, there is no verb in this sentence. Oftentimes you can even remove the pronoun and just ask.


May I have a cup of tea, instead?

[tætl nʊdlpik ʌt hɪl vivɪft kəmi, dæf]

/tɛtl nʊdlpik ʌt hɪl fifɪft çəmi, dɛf/ – Rozenn

/tatl nədlpik ət hel viveft kəmi, daf/ – Einar

Here we have the introduction of modal verbs! Germanic languages use modals quite a bit and I have a fondness for them. There are at least seven in Hadysh (English has seven-ish as well, plus a dead one and a handful of demi-modals). Modals conjugate normally and the verb they are changing takes the infinitive form and moves to the end of the clause.

Anyone familiar with German will recognize this. Kannst du Deutsch (sprechen)? Können is the modal. Sprechen is the verb. “Can you speak German?”

Like when asking about time, the [dati]/[dæf] distinction is important. [dæf] implies that you want a cup of tea. [dati] is asking if you have permission to have a cup of tea.


Are you tired? – Plural, Informal “you”

[ɸat æs hwɑnel]

/ɸɛt ɛs ʍɔnɪl/ – Rozenn

/fat as hɁwɑnel/ – Einar

The Waldish and Nyrnish (Einar’s) dialects mutate [ʍ] to /h/ so to imply the particle correctly they divide the [h] and [w] with a glottal stop. In Sylian these are just slurred back to /ʍ/.


Yes

[ɸat ɪ] (Literally: It is)

/ɸɛti/ – Rozenn

/faɁi/ – Einar

Despite being a full sentence (similar to Irish), over time this has contracted down to a single word (similar to English).


No

[ɸat ɪ ʊl] or [ɸat ɪ’l] (Literally: It is not)

/ɸɛɁl/ – Rozenn

/fatl/ – Einar

Like above this is a full sentence, but has been contracted down to a single word.


Do you have a question? – Plural, Formal “you”

[minçɪn nedəwaðʌl, dati] or [minçɪn nedəwaðʌl, dæf]

/minçɪn nɪdəwaðʌl, dɛti/ or /minçɪn nɪdəwaðʌl, dɛf/ – Rozenn

/minçen nedəvaðəl, dati/ or /minçen nedəvaðəl, daf/ – Einar

Don’t forget the [dati]/[dæf] distinction.


Sláinte, everyone!

Plus Ultra – A Day in the Life of and a Defense of the Ultra in America

We woke up early today.

Around seven.

After some bitching and moaning and wistful looks at the clock hoping we had been lied to, we dragged ourselves out of bed. First me, then Brigid but only after I had sicced the cat on her.

I fed the cat, we dug out blankets and flags and kilts and extra layers to stay warm in the 30-ish degree weather on a cloudy Detroit morning. We filled the car, piled in, got out to grab a forgotten phone, then headed to the gas station. Brigid grabbed donuts, I grabbed cash from an ATM then stopped to fill up the car.

Then, around 8:00, we hit 96 East into Detroit – following a path we both knew well past Motor City Casino and Cass Tech into Corktown, which proudly calls itself the “Oldest Neighborhood in Detroit.”

It was about a quarter ’til 9:00 when we finally pulled into the parking lot behind the local IBEW headquarters. It would be a little longer before the coffee and liquor would start flowing. Until then we had donuts and Mama Cass’ homemade breakfast puffs (16,000 calories guaranteed) to tide us over.

It would be many hours before any real reason to be there made itself known as we drunkenly and hoarsely made our way to the parade line.

None of this should come off as particularly exciting, nor is it meant to. The life of an Ultra is the life of many: a terrible job, good friends, one thing on the weekend that keeps you going. The poker player might think about cards, the musician about the next track, the gamer about the next level, the Ultra thinks about the next game. The next stick of smoke. The next tifo or the next two-stick.

What drags a man out of a warm bed at seven in the morning on a cold, cloudy Sunday in Detroit, Michigan?

Friends? Aye.

Family? Aye.

Booze? Aye.

Sports? Aye.

A chance to let loose? Aye.

What about all of those? What if friends, family, booze, sports, and a chance to tap into that primal part of your brain all came in one shot?

That’s why an Ultra gets up.

That’s why an Ultra paints tifos.

That’s why an Ultra gets tattoos, and buys banners, and stands for ninety minutes, and screams and sings until all wind has left their body.

Then they go home and dream sulfury dreams of when they get to do it all over again. It never ends, the cycle of working on the next game and living the previous. Before they know it the season is over and it is all pining for the next time they can get into the stands and do it all over again.

Before we go much further, I’m going to cover my tracks and say “yes, this article will inevitably offend some people.” My last Fans v Supporters v Ultras page constantly either gets rave reviews or people trying to piss on it because they are a special flower that doesn’t… blah blah blah.

Got it.

We’re all human. Definitions don’t fit people well because we can constantly redefine what makes us who we are. So take this all with a grain of salt. Think of this as representing that 70 to 80% of people who are encapsulated by a definition and therefore is painted with broad strokes.

In the end, don’t get offended because this is a blag written by a nobody. Or, actually, get offended. Give me more traffic.

I’ve always thought that the motto of the Ultra should be Plus Ultra, Latin for “further beyond.” That’s what an Ultra is – more and beyond. Whatever is “normal” for a fan should be too little for an Ultra. And I’m not knocking average supporters or fans. Trust me, the crazier they get the better. But an Ultra should be further beyond. They should be further beyond paper signs and crayons. They should be further beyond “the wave”. They should be further beyond shouting “de-fense clap clap de-fense clap clap“.

But the word “Ultras” comes with baggage. And it comes with detractors, especially here in the United States. It is important for the budding Ultra to know when to stand their ground and when to understand the fears and apprehensions of the average supporter. When the Ultra is willing to stand their ground, but make their message known, the state of supporter culture in the United States will improve. When the average fan understands that their Ultras are there for them, there for the team, there to make a great game something that goes into the history books.

But too often I feel supporters and Ultras are at odds and it is important to make sure everyone on a side marches to the same drum, even if some people march a little slower.

First, and this is a big one for us Ultras. Being an Ultra carries baggage in the United States. Baggage of hooliganism, baggage of discrimination, racism, and other isms that we might have anything to do with. There are going to be Ultras that we disagree with. Whether we disagree on which team we root for (the minimum, I guess), whether it is okay to light flares off in the stadium, or as far as the bigger issues like if it is okay that blacks and whites support together or if beating up opposing fans is okay.

When we try to shove the dirty, unwelcome, truth to the side we don’t seem above it, we seem blind to it. It is important to tackle those issues head on. Make bold statements. Don’t just say “well, we wrote some rules down and it is up to the different groups to enforce that.”

No.

No, that is not okay.

If you have Ultras pushing people out of a subway train for their race, kick them out. If you have Ultras molesting women, kick them out. If you have Ultras starting fights, kick them out. Make it known that on no terms is violence, homophobia, racism, or sexism acceptable. Stamp it out.

Ultras can make a political point, but the best political points to be made are those of acceptance of our players and our fellow fans.

But when someone says “Well, I saw some Ultras in Randopia and they were being racists” the right answer isn’t some mumbling and then a “no true Scotsman” bullshit. The right answer is, “Yeah –  that happens, and they are cunts. But here in America we can be above that. Our Ultras work hard to remove and find ways to deal with the problem safely and quickly.”

And the key word is “can” it is also “should.” In America we don’t have 150 years of history in our teams, which can be a bit humiliating. But it also means that racism and divisive politics are not okay. We can’t sit and hide behind “well, we’ve been racist for 150 years so give us a break” (as if that is any fucking excuse). We have a chance to elevate the throne of Ultra further beyond bullshit petty politics into a powerful force for bettering our communities and everyone’s enjoyment of sports.

But I also want to respond to some criticisms and concerns that I’ve heard from self-proclaimed “non-Ultras”.


I have a disability or issue that prevents me from doing X, Y, or Z and ergo cannot be an Ultra.

This is bullshit, if you care so much that you are digging up legitimate excuses to why you cannot Ultra, you are probably an Ultra. I think of it this way: Ultras are there for their fellow Ultras. Ultras know their own like family. Family understands and doesn’t need or even ask for excuses for why you miss activities or perhaps don’t partake in others.

You’re a devout Christian? You don’t drink? A fellow Ultra knows that. They don’t care.

You’re recovering from surgery and can’t dance? A fellow Ultra knows that. They don’t care.

You have a disease that forces you out of the stands to a place where getting in and out is more convenient? Your family doesn’t care. The only people who care aren’t worth being called your family.


I sat in the Ultras’ section and was bothered a lot because I didn’t dance/sing/complained about smoke.

This is a two-way misunderstanding and both sides have very legitimate reasons to complain. So I’m going to try to tackle the obviously side (the non-Ultra) quickly and then move into the Ultra’s perspective of the issue.

Smoke/dancing/singing are not normal in the United States. It is not surprising when someone gets tickets at the last minute and ends up in the Ultra section without understanding what that means. It is up to front offices and ticket vendors to make sure that customers are aware of what is involved in getting a ticket to the supporters’ section.

Supporters’ sections might be standing-only and might be cheaper on a seat map, that can be attractive to someone just looking for a quick thing to do. If someone doesn’t want to sing or dance, leave them alone.

BUT. Big but (-s and I cannot lie) here. Ultras are in the right for being pissed. Remember there is one section in the entire stadium where we can sing and dance and light off smoke for 90 minutes a game. One section. That’s it. Pull out a flag in the main stands, say good-bye to three nights of hard work. Light off a smoke bomb in the nose bleeds? Say hello to a domestic terrorism charge.

We get that one little area and when we see people sitting on their phones no singing and dancing we don’t see a stick in the mud (even though you are one) we see one Ultra over in the family friendly section NOT having a good time.

You can sit quietly anywhere, we can only party in this one section. Please be understanding when we want you to make the most out of it.


The flags, smoke, and singing detract from the game. You should be there to watch the game.

Okay? We do watch the game. When we do specific chants for corners, cards, tackles, players, and scores that isn’t because of a really good streak of random chance. We know to do those things because we watch the game.

Obviously you aren’t because you’re watching us having way more fun than you.

This is going to become even more subjective than the rest of this already is – but we don’t think what we do detracts from the game. We think sitting around politely clapping detracts from the game. Ultras work with front offices as much as we can to come to mutually beneficial agreements on where we can set up shop, what is and isn’t acceptable, and for the most part it works out really well.

Notice on any major team’s website the shots of the crowd rarely are of the people sitting down talking about the weekend with their spouse while their kids are mildly entertained by the game.

Ultras provide a lot of atmosphere to the crowd and we are very much helped by the legions of supporters who do everything they can to help disseminate this out into the other parts of the stadium. The smoke and the noise contributes to the home field advantage. It gives our team a boost and the other team a weight to carry. Any player will tell you that they love coming onto a field with Ultras – people singing their heart and soul out for ninety minutes. It gives them someone to work for, someone to impress, and in return Ultras give them love and respect. We put them on two-sticks, sing chants about them, and are the first to defend them when the refs won’t.


I don’t like that Ultras are “ultra” and I’m “just” a fan. Why am I expected to contribute?

You aren’t expected to contribute, but you need to understand that that’s why an Ultra is “ultra” and you’re just a fan. We are all on the same side, we all want to see our team win, and we both probably want to see it just as badly. But an Ultra goes further beyond. For us it isn’t enough to just show up, we want to make sure our support is heard and felt throughout the stadium.

It is okay that you don’t want to participate to that level and I’m sure the front office appreciates you coming in.

But this idea that your presence is equal to our weeks of hard work and planning is bullshit. And we’ll tell you it’s bullshit. What made you think this wasn’t the case? Since when was just showing up to the test the same as acing it?


I don’t like being defined by other people.

Okay, this is another perfectly acceptable reaction. Not everyone enjoys every label that is applied to them, especially when they aren’t choosing to have that labeled applied to them.

Please trust me when I say I understand and that I can commiserate with you on this.

But it is important that people are labeling you every second of everyday. Humans like to do that, it is just sort of an innate part of who and what we are as social, tribal animals.

I’m not labeling you as an Ultra out of anything other than togetherness. I define myself as an Ultra so please don’t be offended if I define you as an Ultra. If I don’t define you as an Ultra and you want to be defined as an Ultra, that’s okay too. I’m not a sole expert on Ultra-ness.


Some other group uses “Ultras” in their name and we…

Shut up. Just. Shut up.

Who fucking cares? Really? An I suppose if there was a rival group called “The Fans of Windy City” you’d be shitting all over yourself to not be called a fan?

Words mean things and we are all free to use them. If a group uses a word that has is relevant to what they are talking about, then they get to use it. But so can you. Because words are not a limited resource. (Looks at current word count – trust me, I know).


Obviously there is  much to the life of an Ultra, just as there is much to the life of anyone willing to take themselves further beyond what any sane or normal person would do.

I cannot cover every fractal fold of what makes any two groups or even individuals similar and dissimilar. I have neither the time nor the patience to do it.

So I hope this has been an interesting and enlightening read for you, as there will be plenty more soccer to come in the future. But there is where I’ll end for today.

Sláinte, bitches.

ɸat æsð, de?

I’ve been wasting a lot of time lately thinking about language. The result has been a great deal of work going into my Hadysh conlang. The big thing I’ve worked on lately was dialect. The reason is that two of the main characters of Sun-King speak Hadysh natively: Einar and Rozenn, but they speak different dialects. In the book this is represented with Rozenn speaking in an accent.

I chose a light, lowland Scots accent for her because there is some baggage that goes along with it. Semi-foreign but not in an exotic way, working-class, poor, tough, ready to rumble. I wanted that baggage to come along. However, Einar speaks a more “proper” dialect. His dialect is closely related to the “proper” dialect with only a few differences in the position of certain vowels.

All told there are nine dialects not including the “perfect” form I’ve been presenting here. No one speaks that dialect, just like no one speaks dialectless English. There is a dialect considered “proper” and a dialect considered “free” of regional variation, but that is a dialect – just the dialect we expect to hear on the radio.

There is a dialect that is closest to “perfect” and it actually considered by the characters of this world as a mark of low status – it is the language of those who live on the frozen edge of civilization. But that is true in most languages. The “correct” or “proper” forms are rarely chosen for their actual closeness to any proto-language. “Received Pronunciation” (Queen’s English) is no closer or further from Shakespearean English than any other – and that assumes we take Shakespearean as “proper” itself.

It’s not.

Languages are not proper – they are arbitrary. We assign everything through baggage. I would assert that “whom” is not correct English. If you use “whom” you are being a dick. You are trying to speak above people. Normal people speaking normal English do not use “whom.” Ergo, “whom” exists in a smart-ass dialect.

Apologies to any speakers of dialects that still natively contain “whom.” Also, we’re coming for you.

Like French, Hadysh uses the dialect of the capital as “correct”. I call this “Waldish” after the capital – Waldenhof. Just like “Hadysh” this is an English word to represent a foreign tongue.

So, in my interest, I’ve written up some phrases and how the two characters would say them. Most of this was to facilitate the creation of new grammar and vocabulary.

All of these are written in IPA, if you are interested in conlanging I strongly, strongly suggest you write in IPA for purposes of communicating your work and leave your self-created alphabet at home. A) IPA works on computers B) People will get it. Hadysh has some sounds that are weird, lets go over some of them:

/ç/ – This is like the “ch” in the German “ich”. It is similar to the “ch” in the Scottish “Loch” like Loch Ness, but it is devoiced so don’t let your vocal chords vibrate.

/x/ – This is the “ch” in Loch Ness. It is NOT a /k/ sound. It isn’t Lok Ness.

/ɹ/ – This is “r” as nearly every English speaker will say it.

/ɹ̝̠̊/ – Start with /ç/, now move your tongue closer to the roof of your mouth and begin to constrict airflow. Close enough.

/ʍ/ – Remember the “cool hwip” gag from Family Guy? That “hw” sound is /ʍ/ and used to be very common in English. It’s why “why” is spelled with an “h” in the middle.

/ɸ/ – Start by making /f/, now part and round your lips. Close enough. This should be like a controlled way of blowing out a candle.

/ð/ – It’s the “th” from “breathe”.

/θ/ – It’s the “th” from “thin”.

/j/ – The “y” in “yes”.

Learn the vowels on your own. They are going to get a bit complex and can be very, very dialect dependent. I generally refer to the German examples because High School and Uni forced “perfect” German on me, but my English is native, so I speak with a “strong” dialect.


I am [NAME]

[ɸat a (NAME)] – You

/ɸɛt ɛ çɪɹiə/ – Rozenn

/fat a nafjelən/ – Einar


What is your name? – Single, Informal “you”

[θjelg æs, de]? (Literally: How will I call you?)

/θjɪlk ɛs’d/? – Rozenn

/θjelg as, de/? – Einar


How are you? – Single, Informal “you”

[ɸat æs, de]?

/ɸɛt ɛs’d/? – Rozenn

/fat as, de/? – Einar


I am fine, thank you. – Single, Informal “you”

[ɸat a lʌx, jʊga ɪ æs]

/ɸɛt ɛ lʌx, jʊkɛ ɪ ‘s/ – Rozenn

/fat a ləç, jəga e as/ – Einar


Good morning.

[ʍæmli lʌx]

/ʍɛmli lʌx/ – Rozenn

/hamle ləç/ – Einar


Good afternoon.

[lælxwændʊ lʌx]

/lɛlxwɛndʊ lʌx/ – Rozenn

/lalçandə ləç/ – Einar


Good evening.

[lælɔðɹ̝̠̊en lʌx]

/lɛlɔðɹɪn lʌx/ – Rozenn

/lalɔðɹ̝̠̊en ləç/ – Einar


Good night.

[ɔðɹ̝̠̊en lʌx]

/ɔðɹɪn lʌx/ – Rozenn

/ɔðɹ̝̠̊en ləç/ – Einar


Cheers!

[kæk]

/çɛç/ – Rozenn

/kak/ – Einar


I am Rozenn, daughter of Leofric and the Great Sword of Macenburgh.

[ɸat a çeɹiə, tatiə jan pænðmʌhiɹd pe ɪlpæzɑxt jan zeʍədɹədʌɹɔɸə]

/ɸɛt ɛ çɪɹiə, tɛtɪə jɛn pɛnðmʌhɪɹd pɪ ɪlpɛzɔxt jɛn zɪʍədɹʌɹɔɸə/ – Rozenn


 

Nothing wrong with a bit of fun on that last one, aye?

Some interesting grammar bits to note:

First, even I screw up. I did on a previous post. I labeled “hunter” as [bʊfəd] but it is actually [bʊvəd].

Second, the copula does not conjugate. It is always [ɸat] regardless of the subject. This means it is always followed by a subject.

Third, questions follow the sentence they modify. So it would be a statement + , + question word. For example, in English, it would look like “You are, how?”

Fourth, Hadysh, from my first post, has shifted from SVO to VSO. Correct sentences from older posts as needed. As stated this is a growing and changing project that I do for fun instead of eating or writing. Both things far beyond fixing at this point. So I’m going to make some quick food and call it a night.

ɔðɹ̝̠̊en lʌx or oíche mhaith, motherfuckers.

 

 

Risk

Perhaps you’ve noticed that I’ve been rather inactive on this site as of late?

Maybe you haven’t.

That was a pretty good article by Kirk, huh?

I wish I had some good news, but I don’t. Currently in the midst of a bit of an emotional low and having trouble doing anything, really.

Recently decided to get some extra first readers on-board to help the lonely, brave, figure in getting it all done and very quickly that blew up in my face. I mean, it was a bomb I set, primed, and then stood over – but it still blew up, surprising apparently only to me.

Anyway, Sun-King is decidedly not getting good remarks. And that is depressing.

Specifically it is the prologue and chapter one, two of the originally weak pieces that don’t seem to have gotten any better, in fact they seem to have gotten much, much worse.

But that’s the risk I took. I put it out there and I was hoping for positive feed back and… well… I got constructive feed back. I have a lot of work to do, especially as the fires spread deeper into the book. It might mean a second scrapping a second rewrite and right now… I’m not sure emotionally I can pull that off. Right now I’m very drained, stressed, unfocused, wanting to do anything but write but not wanting to let it fester too long. So instead of doing something, anything, I do nothing.

Next week is going to be hard with no one to vent on. Brigid is in Oregon for a writer’s workshop so I’ll briefly be living the life of a lonely man pining for some distant, green light.

Hopefully I don’t go into bootlegging.

Anyway so that’s what I’ve been doing these last four days. Slowly falling into a well of self loathing. Probably going to drag myself out of in the next few days. Hope to get some writing done when that happens.

Sláinte, everyone.