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China issued this stamp of Workers' Stadium as part of a series commemorating the 1989 Asian Games.
Iraq has been the story of the event until today, but Sepp Blatter and FIFA minions stopped the presses before the tournament by declaring officially that China had invented football. Tsu chu or cu ju is the alleged progenitor, dated to the Qin Dynasty (220–206 B.C.E.), if not before, and placed in the kingdom's capital, Linzi. The goal of tsu chu was to kick a ball through an opening into a small net, which was fixed onto erected bamboo canes. "Thank you China as the birthplace of football," Asian Football Confederation secretary-general Peter Velappan proclaimed at China Football Expo 2004 ("FIFA Boss Hails China as Football Birthplace," People's Daily, 16 July). "Football started in China and the sport's future belongs to Asia. Now I will ask the [Chinese Football Association] to work with FIFA and AFC to establish a museum and further establish related courses in college." Now that the question of football's beginnings has been put to rest, we can all sleep fitfully.
Beyond the Asian Cup, Asia's place in the world game continues to come to prominence. Efforts of Thailand prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra to acquire a 30 percent stake in Liverpool football club fell through (see Michael Elliott, "The Appeal of the Familiar," Time Asia, 17 May), but Thai liquor baron Charoen Sirivadhanabhakdi closed an endorsement agreement with Everton. Everton home and away shirts this season will bear the two-headed elephant logo (right) of Chang Beer (see Amy Kazmin, "Thai Brewer Signs Landmark UK Football Deal," Financial Times, 7 July). The agreement allows Everton to gain valuable exposure in the Far East, while Thai footballers will travel to Everton academy for training. The more radical $112 million deal between Liverpool and the Thai government, which would have been paid for through a national lottery, was seen as a bit too bizarre. Kazmin writes that "the scheme provoked vehement opposition from Thai social conservatives, consumer groups and other critics." Hearts FC of the Scottish Premier League, meanwhile, have also been pursuing links with Thailand, with commercial deals and player exchanges part of the conversations (Paul Kiddie, "Hearts Out to Thai Up Talent," Edinburgh Evening News, 8 July). Such initiatives might or might not please the ever-present Blatter, who spoke before the Asian Cup about the advantages of European clubs lending talent to Asian leagues, rather than the reverse. The idea will be up for discussion at a FIFA meeting in October (James Kynge, "Send Football's Young Stars to Play in Asia, Says FIFA Chief," Financial Times, 17 July).
Players may not be exported from Europe to Asia in great numbers, but their images have become familiar. The BBC World Service in June broadcast a program ("TV Invasion"; direct link to the audio is available here) chronicling the influence of television in Bhutan, where legal broadcasts began in 1999. The launch of a domestic broadcasting concern and cable TV followed from the 1998 World Cup final, watched by thousands on a big screen in Bhutan's National Square. Football's attraction to the Bhutanese and to Himalayan cultures has become common knowledge through the Bhutanese-produced, lama-directed film The Cup, and through the 2002 documentary The Other Final (see The Global Game's interview with director Johan Kramer). But the BBC documentary—as well as a similar program for the U.S.-based Public Broadcasting Service ("Bhutan—The Last Place," Frontline/World, May 2002)—presents a sobering view of daily habits and liturgies interrupted by the TV-fueled interest in the West. The programs are full of depressing comments, such as that from Tintin Dorji, son of Bhutan's cable entrepreneur: "When we had no TV, I used to play with my dog a lot. But now I prefer to watch television." "When football is on, people now stay up very late," says Deychan Dema, who works in the offices of Sigma Cable Service (Orville Schell, "Gross National Happiness," Red Herring, 15 January 2002). Internet service was also inaugurated at about the same time as television. Now, says Kinlay Dorjee, "Suddenly we find ourselves stuck in front of so many screens! It has become a kind of compulsion, so that we feel it was almost like ignoring God, or Buddha, to not answer our screens!"