Will UEFA cancel Euro 2048? Will anybody care?

I was surfing the web late the other night and stumbled on an interesting article in the New York Times. Entitled No Babies?, it is a lengthy and fascinating look at demographic trends in Europe. There was no mention of football or any other sport. Instead, the article’s author examined the reasons for low European birth rates and offered a rather unsettling suggestion of what the continent might be like in coming decades. (Think of a depopulated place that resembles a theme park, like Venice). Yesterday morning, after the first critical sips of coffee had worked their magic, a serious question popped into my head: Does this mean that European football will be irrelevant by mid-century?

It’s fairly well-known that Europe’s birth rate has declined drastically in the past fifteen years or so. But compared to the replacement birth rate of 2.1 children per woman, the current Italian and Spanish rates of 1.3 are especially low. In some parts of Italy, it hovers around 1.0, a rate that is deemed “pathological.” And it’s not just Italy and Spain. Birth rates throughout eastern and southern Europe are equally low. Dutch and Scandanavian birth rates are somewhat higher, though at 1.7-1.8 they remain below replacement level. In Germany, well over a quarter of women born in 1960 have remained childless, far more than in any other European country. In fact, Germany’s population actually declines by around 100,000 per year and a very high percentage of German women believe that the optimal number of children is zero.

There are lots more statistics to mull over. In Spain only 22% of the population will be 24 or younger by 2025, compared to 42% in India. And Europe’s share of world population has been steadily declining: it was 12.5% in 1960, 7.2% today, and is projected to fall to 5% by 2050. A quick visit to Wikipedia (where else?), provides a basis for comparison. Argentina’s fertility rate is a healthy 2.4 children per woman, even though most Argentinians are of Italian and Spanish ancestry and its GDP is currently comparable to Poland’s. (Note, however, that the Argentinian rate is expected to decline to 2.09 for 2008). Other projected 2008 fertility rates: 2.10 for the US, 1.86 for Brazil, and 1.85 for both the UK and Ireland.

Let’s have some fun with idle speculation. The demographers remind us that the first place the population bust will be noticed is–obviously–on the playground. But what about the football pitch? Soccer skills can’t be learned, let alone perfected, in isolation. There may be some value in juggling a soccer ball, or practicing spot-kicks into an empty net. But it’s much better to practice with other kids. Isn’t that why the Europeans and South Americans and Africans–pretty much the rest of the world–are so much better at soccer than Americans? There are plenty of kids to play pick-up games with all day long, while our young players spend hours in the back of mom’s mini-van getting shuttled from one highly-structured practice to another. Will the disappearance of Europe’s children from streets and playgrounds mean that European player development will begin to resemble the American pattern?

The interaction of economic factors and cultural attitudes lies behind the collapsing European birth rate. Those families who take the plunge and produce a child tend to be wealthier. Do these families view football as a priority? I ask this because it has often been noted that in America the socioeconomic profile of the sport is very different from what it has historically been in the rest of the world. Here it’s a pastime of middle and upper-middle-class suburban children, whereas players in Europe and elsewhere are usually from less privileged backgrounds. If child-rearing in Europe ultimately becomes the sole province of the upper classes, will soccer practice be just another activity for busy kids, along with piano practice, swimming, tennis, and golf? Worse yet, might this demographic simply abandon football? A football career does seem to be incompatible with a European university education.

Football’s European roots and traditions are so deep that there will always be Spanish and Italian and German children who live for the sport. But will there be enough of them? Today, Europe’s presence in world football–both international competition and the prestige of its domestic leagues–is a commanding one. Its teams have won exactly half of the eighteen World Cup finals, with South American sides victorious in the other nine. Italy and (West) Germany lead the way among European teams with four and three World Cup titles, respectively. Three of the five most recent World Cups have been won by European teams.

But demographic changes work their way through society very slowly. The drastic decline in birth rates began in the 1990s, so for now we can only guess about the eventual effects of European depopulation on the world balance of power in football. Questions, questions…

Just 25 months and two days away…

Remember this?

If 750 or so days does seem light-years away, remember that Euro 2008 is just around the corner. And it looks like all the games will be televised on ABC, ESPN, and ESPN2.

Since England didn’t qualify, I intend to sit back and enjoy the tournament. There’s a real freedom to enjoy the games when there’s no rooting interest, isn’t there? There’ll be no agony watching them go down on penalties this time, to Portugal or anyone else…

O Podaspheria, Where Art Thou?

I haven’t been able to summon the soccer muse lately. She’s as elusive as her better-known sisters: Terpsichore, to whom dancers owe their grace, Erato, who gives voice to love-struck poets, and my personal favorite: Clio, who inspires those who wish to record and understand the past. Artists like to blame the Muses’ fickle nature for their own lapses in creativity. If soccer blogging can be called an art, then I’m pointing a finger at Podaspheria.

It’s well known that the giant athletic equipment company Nike is named for the Greek goddess of victory. Why should football have its own special Muse if there’s already a victory goddess? Doesn’t Nike care for soccer? Podaspheria’s role is, well, complicated. After all, football’s mesmerizing mix of simplicity and complexity is the reason why it’s called “beautiful game.” It’s special, and that’s where Podaspheria enters the picture.

There’s a bit of Aphrodite (the Greek goddess of love), in Podaspheria. This explains why the intense passion of soccer fans worldwide is not limited to those supporters lucky enough to live in a country with a strong national team. Alongside those oh-so-fortunate Brazilian fans stand the devoted supporters of Ghana, Trinidad & Tobago, and Cote d’Ivoire. World Cup success for these sides had been defined as leaving Germany with at least one point in group play, yet their citizens poured their hearts out cheering them on. It is obvious that the Ghana team was especially favored by Podaspheria. She both inspires and rewards intense passion when it comes to football.

Don’t forget that Podaspheria is the sister of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. You may have learned in school that Athena sprang from her father’s–Zeus’s–head, fully-grown. Her scholarly influence on Podispheria is the reason why writers from all over the globe feel compelled to spill ink in sometimes tortured scrutiny of practically everything related to football. Get this–according to a recent article by Slate’s Bryan Curtis entitled Among the Brainiacs, there is now such a thing as a soccer intellectual! And remember that Athena was not only a brainiac goddess–she also ruled the battlefield. That may have something to do with football’s appeal among hooligans and consequently the many tiresome “football as war” analogies.

Podaspheria, like her sister Thalia (the Muse of comedy), loves a good laugh. Her sly sense of humor has given us the well-known practice of diving. She finds it hilarious that referees continue to be conned by the anguished writhing that follows a tackle so slight that it wouldn’t take down the average eleven-year-old girl. Of course, the resulting fouls, penalties, and cards both red & yellow demonstrate that the soccer Muse understands tragedy’s role in football. That’s usually the bailiwick of her sister Melpomene, the singing Muse. I wonder if that’s why soccer supporters worldwide join together in singing during matches? Is it Podaspheria inspiring them to sing in celebration of the game’s drama and beauty? Is it her voice leading them in song when faced with tragedy–as when Liverpool supporters raise their voices in their signature anthem You’ll Never Walk Alone?

I suppose Podaspheria has been too busy directing the action in Germany to have time for me. I haven’t been able to find the words to describe what’s happened on those far-off pitches, all of them witness to a fair share of blood, sweat, and tears. There was both adoration and tragedy in the France-Spain game yesterday. But Arjen Robben’s clever elegance was tragically wasted in another match that was given over to cynicism and anger. England plodded along until Podaspheria sprinkled her own equivalent of fairy dust on one of David Beckham’s fabled boots. The Mexican side stood its ground against mighty Argentina until Maxi Rodriguez knocked them out of the tournament. There’s no shame in losing to an opponent who produces such a magnificent goal.

Beneath the waving flags, the fans sang, beat drums, shouted, laughed and cried.

I am glad that Podaspheria has no time to inspire me. I hope that she’s busy imagining more special moments for the final eight games in the 2006 World Cup.