I have a fascination with baseball caps that's similar to the stereotypical woman's fascination for shoes. I already have plenty of baseball caps, but if I see one that I really like I feel a strong urge to get it. I'm able to keep my impulses in check for the most part. However, when I was recently back in Minnesota for my grandmother's funeral, I bought a red Twins cap with the old TC (Twin Cities) logo... And I have to say, now that I'm back in Amsterdam and wearing it from day to day, I'm really liking it.

I think real Major League Baseball caps are the ultimate in cap design. The Twins' TC logo is a significant improvement (and also more original) than their "Underlined M" caps of the late 1980s and 1990s. But I have to admit that I'm partial to this cap's design because I'm also partial to the team it represents.

I was considering this recently, trying to figure out what the best Major League Baseball caps are -- and I think  that my primary criteria for consideration are color, cleanness, and timelessness (i.e. a cap gets major design points if it's stuck with the same basic design for like 100 years). So with that in mind, here are some of the top candidates (outside of my new Twins cap), listed in no particular order:

These picks have absolutely nothing to do with the teams that wear these caps (for instance, I really don't like the Yankees much at all, as a team, and I would never want to wear one of their caps personally -- but I can't deny the fact that their caps are some of the best). Purely based on cap design, I'd have to say that the red St. Louis Cardinals cap (bottom left) is the best. But what do you think? How do these caps rate, in your opinion? Or which other caps do you believe might merit consideration? Does anyone else notice this sort of thing, or am I just weird in this way?

Why do the Dutch not seem to care about the Women’s World Cup? They’re generally much bigger fans of football (soccer) than Americans, and they’re generally much more concerned with gender equality. Yet people here in the Netherlands simply don’t seem to care at all about women’s football (soccer). The Women’s World Cup a total non-event.

It’s odd to have American friends asking me about the Women’s World Cup, yet hearing almost nothing about it through the Dutch media. I’m sure some of this has to do with the fact that America has a good team this year, whereas the Dutch team didn’t even make it into the tournament. But still… I wonder if there are greater societal forces at work in this situation. I’m probably one of the least-qualified individuals to offer commentary on this particular situation, so I’d be curious to know if anyone else has a better theory. But it seems to me that football (soccer) is one of the unique areas of American sports culture where women have an equal—if not even superior—footing with men; whereas the sport is still one of those last bastions of Dutch machoisme.

In American sports culture, football (soccer) is not considered as “manly” of a sport as American football or basketball. Don’t ask me why: it just is. Therefore, professional-level football (soccer) generally gets less attention from most American men. And since men also tend to be the primary sporting enthusiasts, professional-level football (soccer) generally gets less attention from the American public at-large. However, football (soccer) is still promoted at lower levels of competition, presumably because it’s a relatively inexpensive sport with broad international appeal. Therefore, when such an opening is allowed for American women, in a generally sports-obsessed culture, the considerable resources of the United States (material resources as well as human resources) are brought to bear—and the results are a very competitive, very successful team. And since Americans enjoy success (like most cultures of the world probably do), their success attracts attention, which in turn breeds further success… and further attention.

In contrast, it seems to me that Dutch football (soccer) is one of the rare elements of Dutch culture where one actually runs into the grunting, brawling, chest-thumping, beer-drinking stereotypes of “manliness.” Could it be that this phenomenon is to an extent that Dutch women playing football (soccer) justs seem weird or out of place: perhaps similar to the idea of women in the USA playing American football or ice-hockey (not unheard of, but still not very popular)? Consequently, there aren’t very many girls football (soccer) clubs here in the Netherlands. And thus, there aren’t very many women’s football (soccer) players who make it to the highest levels of competition.

Am I missing anything here? Could it just be that I’m completely uninformed? Why do these distinctions seem so pronounced? What do the differences say about our cultures?

Elliot's first season of semi-organized basketball (with Amsterdam's Basketball 's Cool Oost) ended today. It was a really good experience for him. He had a lot of fun. He learned a lot of new skills. And he made a bunch of new friends. In short, the experience provided everything that I would hope my children could learn through involvement in sports.

I had a lot of fun being a part of things, too. Parental involvement here in the Netherlands seems to be a lot more low-key than what I've heard about with kids in the United States. There's none of the über-competitive types, angling for their kids' college scholarship opportunities or professional career. There's none of the "basketball-had-better-be-your-life-or-else" types of coaches or trainers. And there's a pleasant blurring of the lines between kids, parents, and coaches -- where everyone jokes around with each other and shoots warm-ups together and travels to tournaments together. I guess I don't really know what it's like in American basketball culture for 8-12 year olds, but I have the feeling that this particular Dutch basketball school we've fallen in with is particularly relaxed... And that suits me just fine.

Looking forward to next year already...

Last names are funny, aren't they? They usually seem quite nonsensical -- just a happenstance combination of random sounds, to make a distinct family identity. At least this is the way that I grew up thinking about last names in the United States of America. Sure, there's a subconscious recognition that the last names actually mean something. The last names Smith, Miller, and Baker, for instance, were common ones in the part of the world where I grew up -- and it makes sense that, ancestrally-speaking, Smiths were metal-workers; Millers worked in the grain mills; and Bakers worked in bakeries.  But the economic system has changed so much since the days of family trades and apprenticeships that these names have become disconnected from their original meaning. And the disconnect is further enhanced, I imagine, by all the different cultural and linguistic backgrounds (not just Anglo-Saxon families like Smith and Miller and Baker) that have settled in North America.

But moving to a different country -- with a different language -- helps to reconnect the dots in surprising and amusing ways. I often find myself reading the names of people like sentences -- subconsciously translating everything into English -- even though Dutch people themselves probably don't make the association, in the same way that I never did with Smith or Miller or Baker.

So I think about my friends Jurren the Great... or Jannie of the Helmet... or Marco Peacocks... or Frank Windowshop...

Or when I hear about Dutch sports stars, my mind cannot help but translate their names into Frank the Farmer... or Demy the Guy-from-Zeeland... or Maarten Prickly-Mountain... or Rafael of the Fart (actually, the Dutch "Vaart" should be translated "Voyage" -- but my English ears can hardly avoid the obvious association with the English word "Fart," which is pronounced very similarly).

Funny, huh? Do you ever notice this kind of thing? If so, what are some funny or interesting names that have stood out to you?

I love the pre-dawn stillness of the basketball court on the Krugerplein. It's one of my favorite places in Amsterdam for solitude, reflection, and exercise.

Bus 37 bumbles past every five to ten minutes.

Little old Muslim men in long robes and tight skullcaps stroll along the edges of the court, chatting as they presumably return to their homes following morning prayers at the neighborhood mosque.

I run back and forth, from hoop to hoop, pushing myself to overcome an invisible foe. And when I pause to catch my breath and shoot free-throws, the calm of the Krugerplein Court is delicious.