Beckham Brawl...what soccer needs

I took in "Resurrecting the Champ" the other evening, but judging by the morning papers, if I was looking for some fight action, I should have scoffed up a ticket for the Galaxy match!

A lot of excited ink splashed across the sports pages this week, as reporters gave a blow-by-blow account of a brawl Beckham beckoned his way on the turf in Thursday night's game...

When Chivas midfielder Jesse Marsch delivered a nasty kick to Beck's midriff, team players on both sides sprang into action like a pack of pit bulls - snapping and barking at each other.

With a multi-million-dollar body at stake, the message was loud and clear: "Hands of the merchandise!"

Apparently Kevin Harmse threw a punch at Chivas defense man Alex Zotinca, who did a pay-back with a head butt.

A, what?

Tempers flared and it looked like there would be a bloodbath. But, cooler heads prevailed.

Later, Marsch apologized to Beckham.

The incident revved up things a thousand-fold, sent writers' jockstraps throbbing, and fans into a frenzy.

Some sports writers were hinting that hiring the media darling may have been a stunt.

Ah, suddenly the bells rang off in my head.

I flashed back to my grandmother's house in Oshawa in the days of my youth.

While I played in my imaginary world on a lazy Saturday afternoon, she'd be riveted to the edge of her seat - grimacing, wringing the life out of a cushion - and occasionally uttering expletives - as she reacted to her favorite wrestlers, like Gorgeous George, on the idiot box.

If a brawny, beefy brute - not in the round - snuck up behind a wrestler to give him some unexpected due - she'd been in there like a dirty shirt, crying out warnings at the screen: "George. Look out, that son-of-a-gun's behind you".

Yes, she was emotionally involved, caught up in the mad antics of the athletes, lost in their world for the day - in spite of the fact Poppa chided her amusingly from the sidelines about the reality of it all.

"Kitty, it's all an act, for heaven's sake."

She'd waved him off, glued to the set, nonetheless.

The gripping, exciting theatrics she gravitated to were a welcome release after all the chores were done each week.

I suddenly realize that maybe that's what soccer needs - a bunch of brutish, brawling, bad boys - cutting up on the field, to get the fans into the stadiums.

Especially if the league wants to give games like Football - an exciting, tackle sport - a run for their money.

In view of the press Beckham and the soccer league mustered up this week - I have a itchy-achy feeling inside that's what the game needs to give it a jump-start.

In "Resurrecting the Champ", a sports writer opines, "you're only as good as the athlete you cover".

In this instant case, it should read:

Behave badly on the field and you'll get all the coverage you want!

And, in the process, rustle up a truckload of ticket sales, too.

Play ball, and may the last bloodiest man still standing, win!