Thanksgiving & a holiday on my doorstep

Been a while since I've written, but large chunks of the last couple of weeks have been taken up by the ungodly amount of schoolwork I'm currently making my way through. Anyone would think I've come here to study or something.

Anyway, I remember writing when I first got here that I would never stop feeling like a tourist in New York City. We're into December now and I'm yet to begin to think otherwise.

A large part of that is probably down to the fact that I've only just got round to experiencing many of the tourist attractions the city has to offer. Despite wandering past the Museum of Modern Art most weekends and seeing the Empire State Building from campus, it wasn't until last week that I made a point of actually visiting them.

With friends from Leicester visiting for a few days, there seemed no better time than the present, and so we each purchased a $100 CityPass (well worth the cash but poorly advertised) that granted us access to six attractions, including the places already mentioned plus the Top of the Rock, the Statue of Liberty and a couple of the city's other museums.

Perhaps it's odd to do all the tourist attractions having already been here for two or three months but for me it added to what I was seeing. I guess knowing to the city (to a degree, at least) made being up the top of the Ro
ckefeller Center all the more interesting, getting a different vantage point on the area in which I'd experienced so much over the last few weeks. One thing it definitely did was shrink the city; stepping out of the Empire State Building after having been up it, I felt like I had a much better grasp of my bearings. Being that high up, after all, is like looking down on a massive real-life map.

Between trying nearly every fast-food joint in Manhattan (shouts to Wendy's) we also managed to fit in a trip to the State of Liberty (where the views of the city were more impressive than the Statue itself) and two trips to see St. John's basketball at Madison Square Garden: a bug I am definitely catching. The week's only real disappointment was the visit to the MoMA; seeing a bit of van Gogh was impressive but there were way too many pieces of 'art' in there that looked like they'd been done by my sister's year six class.

All of this meant my first Thanksgiving in America was a pretty decent one. Boston Market provided our festive food; a kind of second-rate Harvester in a lot of ways, but without the free salad. My experience of American food being unbearably sweet was also taken to new heights as some bright spark clearly thought it was a good idea to stick marshmallows in with the sweet potatoes. The clue's in the name; they didn't need any more sugary goo chucked in there.

The day itself was largely spent at the famous Macy's Thanksgiving parade. After an hour or two navigating the maze Manhattan had been turned into by the NYPD, we finally found a decent spot to catch the end of the parade. All we really saw was a giant Spongebob and a creepy-looking floating kid, but our morning was made by watching Santa cruise past. My very own Miracle on 34th Street, it was just a shame the little girl from Matilda didn't show up. I guess she was still at Mr. Bedford's.

It was weird to spend days on what felt like a holiday before having to go home and work on essays in the evenings, but I guess that's what this year's been about. Having said that, the 'holiday' part's been well and truly dropped in recent days as finals close in and I turn my attention from a giant Spongebob to a 12-page research paper on genocide.

Midterms? What midterms?

When my history professor began today's class by asking "so who voted?" I didn't expect the overwhelming answer to be "for what?" Even BBC News, over 3000 miles away, seemed to have more interest in America's midterm elections than my college.

Much of the coverage surrounding this month's vote in the US has focused upon the fact that the turnout is much higher among Republicans at midterms compared to their Democrat counterparts.

Perhaps the apparent disinterest among college voters is simply part of this wider trend; younger people tend to vote Democrat and it is the blue vote that has suffered at these elections. Midterms are widely considered a reflection on the incumbent President, and Barack Obama's approval ratings are threatening to fall below 40% for the first time.

Even Democrats themselves are reluctant to associate themselves with the Obama administration: earlier this week, Kentucky's Senate hopeful Alison Lundergan Grimes remarkably refused to admit she even voted for him in either the 2008 or 2012 Presidential elections.

Maybe it has more to do with the fact that this year's elections were not particularly exciting locally. New York had no seats up in the Senate, Governor Andrew Cuomo won re-election with relative ease, and its status as a Democratic stronghold was never under threat. Thus, perhaps the lack of interest was down to a lack of necessity rather than any kind of cynicism.

Of course, it could be that a certain British comic's recent soiree Stateside has resulted in the country's youth becoming increasingly disillusioned with politics, to the point where I'm surrounded by a bunch of American Russell Brands. A grim thought, that.

That said, it's easy to confuse apathy with ignorance and it genuinely wouldn't surprise me if a lot of young voters in America literally had no idea there were votes to be cast this week - or at least the significance of them. After all, the look of disbelief on a lot of faces when they hear we have 'free' healthcare in the UK says something about the information they have access to.

I realise we're not talking about some kind of North Korea media blackout here, but maybe in Britain we underestimate how relatively well-informed our young electorate is kept.

Nevertheless, there's more than a grumble among students out here about the way their country is run. Granted, they might feel like it's an impossible task to fix what many see as a broken system of government, but surely voting is a decent place to start.

I did try to ensure Bruce Forsyth's Strictly message of "you can't moan if you don't phone" was relayed but, despite my best Brucie impersonation, I'm not sure they understood the reference.

The Tip-Off

Rightly or wrongly, various books and films meant I carried some expectations of college sport to America: Remember the Titans, The Waterboy and even Forrest Gump are just three movies that allude to the sheer scale and hysteria of it all.

But in my first two months at St. John's there's been none of the fanfare that's supposed to accompany college sports. The soccer is of a high standard, but it's worlds away from the thousands of people you see filling (American) football stadiums at southern schools.

The only indicator of something similar lay in the impressive Lou Carnessecca Arena, where a seemingly endless trophy cabinet chronicled the university's successful history in college basketball. The arena itself is named after the school's greatest coach, whose teams reached the post-season in every one of his 24 years in charge.

As we entered October, the build-up to the 2014 season began, culminating in the 'Tip-off' on Friday night: festivities held in the Lou Carnessecca Arena to introduce the men's and women's teams and celebrate the season getting underway.

The mammoth lines that accumulated to get tickets for the event on Friday morning confirmed what the trophy cabinet suggested: this is a basketball school.

That night, over five thousand St. John's students filled the Arena for one of the most ridiculously extravagant school events I've ever been a part of. When you consider that Leicester barely manages to attract those numbers to the rugby at Welford Road (the showpiece event in its sporting calendar), I struggled to get my head around the fact that this many people showed up to a pre-season event in America.

Upon each seat in the venue was a free t-shirt, the third one I've received in less than two months of being here. I'm fairly sure that the school could reduce its $50,000-a-year tuition fees by a third if it simply halved the amount of clothing it seems to giveaway on a weekly basis.

But that was only the beginning. As part of the celebrations, a member of the crowd won an iPad whilst cross-country flights and a $20,000 car are other prizes being offered over the course of the season. At Leicester the most you get for free is a half-chicken from Nando's, and even that involves you having to buy a meal in the first place.

We were also treated to a burrito-eating competition more bizarre than Santiago Vergini's own-goal for Sunderland this weekend, in which some poor soul shovelled handfuls of god-knows-what into their mouth in front of five thousand people. But that was just a warm-up to the main event.

As smoke filled the court for added drama, each player from the men's and women's team was introduced in turn, each to a rapturous reception. In England there are tongue-in-cheek references to BNOCs (Big Names on Campus), but those on the basketball team here are bonafide campus celebrities - to the point where rumours circulate about cars being offered as incentives for the top players to go to school here. It's a completely alien world to the British student.

As if enough cash hadn't been spent already, the evening was capped by a performance from French Montana (although he probably cost less to book than the iPad, let's face it). He insists that he's not "worried about nothing" which was good for him because during that debacle I was seriously worried about my ears.

Culture, Comedy and Michael Jackson

With midterms approaching, I took my mind off the ever-increasing workload with two pretty different outings within a week. First we visited the American Museum of Natural History on Sunday, before frequenting Madison Square Garden for a second occasion, this time to see Aziz Ansari perform on Thursday night.

From what I've seen of New York so far, the Upper West Side - where the AMNH is located - is probably the only area of the city that resembles anything like London. The majority of NYC is so far removed from any other city I've seen in terms of architecture and layout, but the white facade of AMNH would not have looked out of place amongst the V&A and London's own Natural History Museum in South Kensington. I guess there's only so many different ways you can build a museum.

Even though I was expecting it, it still hurt a little to have to pay to enter. I understand New Yorkers pay less than ten per cent tax, but I'm struggling to see where that's going. If your taxes aren't paying for healthcare and museums then what on earth are they paying for? And it certainly isn't going towards city sanitation, either.

Nevertheless, the $20 entry fee proved to be well worth it as it included one of those IMAX shows. We intended to see one about space but my mind was changed at the last minute when I realised there was one about Great White Sharks (narrated by Bill Nighy) and so we split up and did our own thing. I'm pretty pleased with my change of heart as now I know that sharks don't have bones. Who knew?

As a tribute to Theodore Roosevelt, the museum focuses heavily upon New York, with a section entirely dedicated to the state itself. This was basically a timeline of NY's history, starting long before civilisation began (the glaciers in 'Manhattan' during the ice age would have reached the top of the Empire State Building, apparently).

So much of the museum is impressive, from the vast array of Native American artifacts to the giant model of a blue whale that hangs in the Milstein Hall of Ocean Life. I was beginning to think the place was better than London's effort in every way when it suddenly dawned on me that there was not a single killer whale - picture, video or model - in the place. Shocking.

There was a significant change in dynamic later in the week when we swapped the museum for MSG to see Aziz Ansari's stand-up special. Last minute tickets meant we were stuck up on Chase Bridge, so far up and away from the stage that they literally provided you with TVs to watch the action.

We were doing our best to conceal our disappointment at the situation when we were tapped on the shoulder by a member of venue staff and directed down steps to 'better seats'. That was something of an under-statement, as we suddenly found ourselves no more than thirty yards from the stage at no extra expense, merely because they'd failed to sell-out.

Thus we were able to enjoy the full experience of the peculiar Michael Jackson tribute act Ansari threw on before he performed. Apparently the "best in the world", there was something rather unnerving about it, but I guess that's a compliment when someone's trying to impersonate the King of Pop.

With the upgraded seats it would have been hard not to enjoy the evening, but even from our old seats up where the air was thinning it would have been worth every penny. Perhaps it wasn't quite up to the standard of his previous stand-up specials, but I get the feeling MSG adds a little extra to whatever you're watching there.

Sadly it's back to reality again this week as midterms remind me why I'm actually here in New York in the first place.

The Most Americanest* Day

*I'm not sure that 'Americanest' is a word, but apparently 'most winningest' (as in 'Manchester United are the most winningest team in Premier League history') is acceptable over here so it seems you can do what you like with the English language this side of the Atlantic.

One of the biggest culture shocks of moving to the US has, surprisingly, been the food. Naively, I presumed that they would eat similarly to us Brits, just with larger portions and the healthier foods harder to find. That was okay by me - I've had my fair share of microwaveable all-day breakfasts in my time and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

But what I did not vouch for was the complete lack of orange squash in New York City. I'm not saying I expected Robinsons to have lit up the New York Stock Exchange, but it was pretty tough to hear that they didn't even know what squash was over here. I guess it's true what Westlife once sang about never missing the water until it's gone.

Nevertheless, I was looking forward to giving a staple of American cuisine a go on Saturday morning when we went to IHOP (the International House of Pancakes, apparently) for breakfast food. Besides, NBC's Parks and Recreation has only good things to say about it:

Maybe Leslie Knope likes peculiar blends of salt and sugar and pancakes that taste solely of bicarbonate of soda but it's not for me. I draw the line at those microwaveable all-day breakfasts.

I found out the hard way that the lump of what looks like ice cream on the pancake was actually butter.

Thankfully, it wasn't a case of 'start as you mean to go on' as the day was rescued by a trip to SoHo and the Brooklyn Bridge.

SoHo is basically Oxford Street but instead of having Hyde Park at one end, it is overlooked by the stunning Chrysler Building. In terms of three guys going shopping, I feel like we nailed it - one of us bought a grey polo shirt whilst the other two grunted their approval.

We continued the American theme of the day with a trip to a pop-up replica of the Central Perk cafe from Friends, but a queue that carried on for blocks didn't sound like our ideal Saturday so we settled for some photos of the exterior:

We made our way to the Brooklyn Bridge via Chinatown and although we only passed through, Chinatown was one the most peculiar places I've ever been and somewhere I'll definitely have to go back and explore later on. It seemed to be one massive cliche, with launderettes on every corner and dodgy-looking food being sold outside dodgy-looking shops.

After a bit of a struggle getting access to the Bridge (turns out the logic 'head for the waterfront' wasn't as sound as we first thought), we found our way onto the wooden pathway that overhangs the carriageways.

Thankfully the decent weather meant you could see everything Manhattan had to offer, from the Statue of Liberty and World Trade Center to the Empire State Building. I won't attempt to describe it fully because if I was able to do justice to the views then I'd be working for Lonely Planet instead of writing this. But it is definitely one of my favourite experiences of NYC so far, and that's saying something.

By the time we'd got off the Bridge my feet had had enough of walking and my stomach was still moaning about the IHOP, so we played it safe and called it a day.

America's unhealthy reverence for its sporting heroes

In the week that Derek Jeter plays his final home series for the New York Yankees, it is difficult to ignore the retirement of one of the City's favourite sons.

I'll leave it to those with a greater understanding and appreciation of baseball to do justice to his record-breaking career, but the following pictures of a father's reaction to his son throwing back a foul ball hit by Derek Jeter sums up New York's affection for the shortstop pretty well:

http://abc7chicago.com/sports/video-young-fan-throws-jeter-baseball-back-on-field/319060/

Even my Mets-supporting flatmate lamented the fact that his "childhood is over" as a result of Jeter's departure from the game. In that respect, I guess the only comparable figure in England in recent years is David Beckham, whose retirement was met with universal devastation among people my age back home.

Whilst such a respected career is quite rightly celebrated city-wide, it brought to my attention the sad reality that Jeter's is one that's uniquely blemish-free in American sport. The worst 'dirt' that can be found on him is a late night back in 2003 and some income tax controversy around the same time - but even Gary Barlow's been involved with that.

Of course, tax evasion isn't something to be taken lightly but it is small change compared to a lot of the big controversies American sport stars have been associated with in recent years. In the short time I've been in the United States, it feels as though there's barely been a sports star mentioned that hasn't committed or at least been accused of some sort of felony.

Perhaps most notorious of all is the case of football player OJ Simpson, whose ill-fated attempt to evade capture and subsequent murder trial made international news twenty years ago. To list all of his NFL colleagues that have done jail time would take me into next week, but the fact that Bleacher Report were able to put together an 'All-Prison Team' back in 2012 speaks volumes.

More recently, Kobe Bryant (another apparently universally-renowned figure who my flatmates have "grown up with") was accused of sexually assaulting a hotel employee in 2003. Despite a public mea culpa, Bryant inexplicably walked away with his reputation virtually unscathed and only temporary damage done to his bank balance.

(ESPN)

Even today the news is full of stories in this vein, with the NFL facing controversy in recent months surrounding stars such as Adrian Peterson (who faces accusations of child abuse after apparently whipping his four-year-old son) and Ray Rice, who was videoed dragging his unconscious wife out of an elevator earlier this year.

The debate as to why run-ins with the law are disproportionately high amongst American sports stars is one to be had amongst those more qualified than I, but whether or not the glorification of athletes throughout schooling has anything to do with it is an idea that must have been discussed.

Rather, what's surprising to me is the treatment the aforementioned characters have got in the US press. I always thought that the English could be a little lenient on its stars - dreadful characters such as Joey Barton and Stan Collymore have been made millionaires by sport despite their many misdemeanours.

But compared to their counter-parts this side of the Atlantic, the English press can be seen to enjoy bringing a sports star to their knees amid controversy - and that's something we should probably be thankful for. There's a lot to be said for the idea that John Terry would still be England captain today were it not for the media, whilst Luis Suarez's career in this country ended after a long and bumpy relationship with the press.

(nationalturk.com)

In the States, however, there appears to be a worrying reluctance to blame the culprits themselves for their actions; in many cases, they are put on pedestals above criticism and even above the law.

Of course, there have been few offering excuses for the likes of Ray Rice, but the fact that ESPN have spent the last week laying into NFL commissioner Roger Goodell (here and here) whilst there's a chance Rice may return to action this season is, in my view, ignoring the crux of the issue.

Even more deplorably, the Baltimore Ravens tweeted after the video emerged that Rice's wife "deeply regrets the part she played" in her husband knocking her unconscious.

To see factions of a national press react in this way is ridiculous to me. But then the fact that the NFL has to have specific sanctions laid out for players that assault their wives and girlfriends is testament to the fact that things are different over here.

So whilst it is quite right that Americans celebrate the career of Derek Jeter this week, it should not be done without recognising the sad rarity of being able to toast the retirement of a sportsman who bows out without the blemish of a criminal record.

A long-distance view of Scotland's referendum

The time difference between London and New York has taken some getting used to - by the time I've got home from classes the UK is already fast asleep. Contacting home has meant getting up at the ungodly hour of ten a.m. to Skype family at weekends or interrupting my afternoon to catch them in their evening.

However, tonight proved to be one of the few times the five-hour difference was useful as, whilst the majority of the UK was tucked up in bed, I could keep track of the live coverage of the results of Scotland's referendum on independence.

It's been strange being so detached from such a significant moment in the UK's history. The only way to gauge public opinion real-time was through twitter, but that was primarily made up of abuse aimed at Andy Murray and poor attempts at spelling Alex Salmond's name.

In the event, most of my news came via covertly checking my phone at the back of a class on American government/business relations, but I'm pretty sure that the politics department at St. John's should have been encouraging my interest in the subject rather than limiting me to a risky glance at the BBC News webpage every fifteen minutes.

I guess that goes to show the surprising extent to which Americans have let this major news story pass them by. I know they are notorious for being a little self-involved, but I would have thought that they'd have been a touch more interested in a decision that could affect their 'special relationship' with the UK. I suppose that for them, no fighting means no fun.

That is not to say, however, that the story hasn't made news over here. It's been all over the major news channels but I'm fairly sure the overwhelming feeling this side of the Atlantic is concern for the well-being of Will and Kate rather than any genuine opinion on the stance of the Scottish people.

In fact, it was mentioned in all three of my classes on Thursday, and in the first I was asked for my opinion on the matter. After giving what I thought was a carefully considered response, the professor genuinely replied: "Let's move on, you're the only one that cares anyway."

The Mets at Citi Field

Baseball is known as 'America's pastime', and a lot of time definitely passed as it took over three hours for the New York Mets fall to defeat in my first experience of one of the country's Big Four sports.

Leaving Citi Field at the game's conclusion, I couldn't figure out why it is that Americans so willingly embrace this game whilst cricket remains so obscure in this part of the world. Both are essentially similar, but there are far more moments of excitement in the British game.

When I first got to the States I learned that our version of football didn't catch on earlier because there was a perceived lack of scoring involved. My experience of baseball posed something of a contradiction to that as there were five scoreless innings in a row lasting over an hour in total. Not much to celebrate there.

Although the eventual score was 5-6 in favour of the Miami Marlins, a ball was hit maybe once every four or five pitches. Compare that to cricket - where nearly every ball is hit and hundreds of runs are scored - and it is hard to see why Americans are in love with this bat-and-ball game whilst entirely disregarding our own.

That is not to say, however, that the game we watched wasn't enjoyable. In fact, we witnessed a bit of Mets history as pitcher Jacob deGrom struck out the Marlins' first eight hitters, thus breaking his team's record and equalling a Major League Baseball record that has apparently stood since 1986.

Thanks to this strong start, the Mets looked comfortable going into the final few innings but somehow the team from Florida managed to turn the game on its head to secure a 6-5 victory. I can't claim to know enough about baseball to say this with much confidence, but it looked to me as though the removal of deGrom from the pitcher's mound had something to do with it.

Mets rookie Jacob deGrom, wearing a specially-themed jersey to recognise the service of America's veterans (metsmerizedonline.com)

I've been in New York City for nearly a month and in Madison Square Garden and the Arthur Ashe Stadium I've seen two of the more stunning sporting venues this city has to offer. Citi Field could rival them in stature, but not in style.

Although it was an impressive structure, it looked as though the stadium had eaten too many adverts and vomited them all over one of its own corners.

To make matters worse, those parts of the stadium that weren't replaced by advertising hoardings were far from full with people. When I enquired as to why, I got the response that "we suck." It seems the team's own fans agree with Joey Tribbiani's assessment of the Mets on NBC's Friends.

Whilst it's true that the Mets' hopes of making the playoffs are over, it occurred to me that the fact there's a game virtually every night can't help attendance figures. Only the extremely committed (and well-off) could possibly dedicate eighty-one evenings and afternoons to these marathon games of baseball. Either way, the 40,000-capacity stadium couldn't have even been more than a quarter-full.

Although it can be a little slow at times, the appeal of baseball is clear: it is a simple game with a rich history. Even in Britain, the likes of Babe Ruth and Joe DiMaggio are household names. The New York Mets are not without their 'own' history either, as I found out upon leaving the ballpark.

I write 'own' in quotation marks because much of the celebration surrounds Jackie Robinson, who was a Brooklyn Dodgers before they moved to Los Angeles, and before the New York Mets were formed in 1962.

I must admit that I hadn't heard of Jackie Robinson in a baseball context before last night, but knew something of his significance in challenging the basis of segregation. As it turns out, when the Dodgers played him at first base in 1947 they were the first team to play a black man since the nineteenth century, thus ending the relegation of black players to the Negro leagues.

Robinson would go onto win the World Series with the Dodgers in 1955, before being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame seven years later. His impact was so far-reaching that, since 2004, every player on every team in the MLB wears Robinson's number 42 on 'Jackie Robinson Day'.

Since the Dodgers' move to LA, it seems the Mets have 'adopted' Robinson as one of their own, and it isn't hard to see why.

"A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives" - the Jackie Robinson Rotunda

Afternoons on Broadway

This weekend another box was ticked as we took advantage of 2-for-1 tickets on Broadway and went to see the revival of Les Miserables at the Imperial Theatre.

I've been to Times Square and Broadway a couple of times since getting here and obviously was aware of its theatrical history, but the famous jungle of theatres is fairly well tucked away from the main road. Unless you're looking for it, it's unlikely you'll just stumble into it.

In the event, it took us a while to actually find the theatre we wanted among the countless others showing big names such as Chicago and Mamma Mia!

I'm no theatre critic, but I'm a fairly solid fan of the film so was expecting a fair bit from seeing the musical in the flesh. More to the point, I wasn't sure how Broadway's Marius would stand up to Eddie Redmayne's pretty flawless portrayal in the 2012 epic. 

Thankfully, this Marius didn't disappoint and nor did the show. For starters, there's no way the voices of Russell Crowe and Hugh Jackman would hold up on stage. Even the young performers portraying the likes of Cosette and Gavroche showed not an ounce of trouble in hitting every note.

I don't have enough experience of attending musical theatre to compare this against many other productions, but some of the big numbers definitely beat the wow factor of Lion King's impressive opening.

In fact, the only gripe I could have about the entire afternoon is the fact that Americans spell it Les Miz. Not sure what that's about.

St. John's and its strange brand of 'soccer'

Seeing as the Premier League is so big in these parts, it was no surprise to see a similar buzz surrounding the university's 'soccer' team. On Saturday night, St. John's University's men's team faced Syracuse University in something of a local derby.

The four-figure crowd that showed up wasn't bad - the kind of numbers that would show up to a Conference fixture in England - but I had been given the impression by advertising that the stands would be full. As it was, St. John's students filled a stand behind one goal, whilst a few paying customers were littered across what would be described as the 'main stand'.

Impressive compared to the one-man-and-his-dog that attends the average football match at the University of Leicester, but underwhelming versus the filling of huge arenas at American football games in the South (a la Friday Night Lights). 

As a fan of non-league football, I am all-too-aware of the perils of attempting to entertain a half-filled stadium. The half-time dancers looked a little lonely as they performed to a main stand that was more interested in their mid-match snacks.

The cheerleaders were a little more painful to watch, not least because their 'show' lasted the entire ninety minutes. Perhaps I'm just too British to ever really understand their purpose, but it seemed as though no-one was inspired by their well-rehearsed routines.

In fact, the most entertaining thing about them was the fact that, whilst supporting a very Catholic institution, they were chanting, "Let's go, Johnnies, let's go!", blissfully unaware of the word's meaning in British slang.

Sadly, the cheerleaders weren't the only aspect of college soccer I didn't understand. As the game kicked off, I was surprised to hear the sound system continue to be utilised beyond your usual pre-match announcements as play-by-play commentary was forced upon the crowd. Though its intention was to be informative, sound systems are never particularly clear and the incessant, garbled attempts at description merely resulted in a headache.

The fact the announcer used terms such as 'goalbox' (making Twitter's US Soccer Guy sound worryingly less satirical) didn't exactly help proceedings.

Furthermore, the game itself was plagued by 'time-outs' which involved roll-on roll-off substitutions that began after twenty minutes. I'm sure Sven Goran Eriksson would have loved it, but I'm not sure how beneficial it was to the players who were - in theory, at least - on the final rung of the ladder to playing the professional game.

This strange circus sadly detracted from what was, at times, high-quality football. There may have been a distinct lack of quality in the final third and there was a clear emphasis upon individual talent over team cohesion, but the pace at which the game was played was impressive.

St. John's even boasted one or two players that wouldn't have looked out of place in the upper echelons of England's non-league game, but it wasn't enough to stop their team falling to a 1-0 defeat.

The referee blew his whistle bang on ninety minutes - they have apparently done away with injury time this side of the Atlantic - to draw to an end a pretty peculiar evening.

Although Saturday night was just a first taste of college soccer, it was hard to shake the feeling that America has tried to fix a game that isn't broken, trying far too hard to force its own character onto a game that already has plenty.

The "EPL" in the USA - some initial observations

Since I've arrived in New York, I've heard more talk of soccer than any of America's so-called 'Big Four' sports. Perhaps it's because I'm English and so conversation naturally leans towards our national sport, but it seems as though everyone here follows a team in what they call "the EPL".

In a strange coincidence, the first Premier League game I watched with American company was Arsenal's visit to Leicester. Seeing my university's local team on television from NYC was a peculiar experience, but not quite as strange as hearing my new American flat-mates refer to the place as "Lie-chester". I let it slide once or twice before I had to correct them.

The impression I've got in the week since that game is that 'soccer' has grown in popularity not just since the USA's impressive showing at this summer's World Cup, but for a while before that too. David Beckham's presence in Los Angeles has been mentioned without prompting on numerous occasions, emphasising the influence he had on the game in this country.

That said, it is not the MLS that captures the imagination of the locals but our Premier League. I have heard only one mention of Thierry Henry's New York Red Bulls since I've been in the States, and even that was born out of a conversation about Arsenal.

Thierry Henry: one of the many Premier League stars that have graced the MLS in recent years

The Gunners are surprisingly popular in these parts (perhaps a measure of Henry's star quality) and apparently share the affection of the locals with - less surprisingly - Manchester City. One Chilean I came across professed his love for both sides: Arsenal for their signing of Alexis Sanchez, and City for the Manuel Pellegrini connection. I asked him what the Chilean word was for loyalty but I'm not sure he got the joke.

Similarly, a Manchester United fan in my flat has lamented the decline in support for his side over the last twelve months - confirmation of the apparently fickle nature of Premier League 'support' in these parts. Americans may appreciate the quality of our league, but they have found it harder to understand what it really means to be a fan of English football.

Perhaps I am expecting too much or being too protective of the English game, but there is a lot to be said for the idea that they won't be able to fully appreciate our game until they become familiar with the history, rivalries and loyalties involved. Over here, there is an emphasis upon individual talent, big-money transfers and NBC's bloated Premier League schedule. But then, some would argue that England is heading the same way...

It's fair to say that Americans have been well exposed to football, but exposure doesn't necessarily equate to understanding. On more than one occasion when people have asked who I follow and I tell them about non-league St. Albans City, I've been met with blank faces and the response: "Ok, but who's your EPL team?"

Although there's a naivety about the American interest in the English game, it's still serious enough to suggest that the Premier League is here to stay - in this part of the country at least. Even our visit to Seth Meyers involved the Late Night host (a West Ham fan himself, incidentally) asking my Manchester-based friend if he was "City or United?" - an indication of the way our game is becoming indelibly stamped upon the American sporting consciousness.

How a routine trip to Central Park turned into an impromptu evening with Seth Meyers

It was only meant to be a casual trip to Manhattan, to sort out some banking administration and to enjoy the ridiculous New York sun at Central Park, but somehow we ended up in Studio 8G of 30 Rock.

We were simply browsing the NBC store on the famous building's ground floor when we were approached by a lady asking if we were interested in attending the monologue rehearsal for Late Night with Seth Meyers. I recognised the name and knew the show itself from when Jimmy Fallon was host, but it's safe to say that Meyers hasn't penetrated the British market in the same way that Fallon and Jimmy Kimmel have.

Nevertheless, we accepted the tickets and joined the back of the queue on the second floor. At this point, airport-esque security kicked in and phones were suddenly banned before we'd even got up to the studios on the eighth floor.

The lack of opportunity to take photos was a shame, as the corridors were lined with stills from NBC shows both past and present. Comedy stars such as Jason Sudeikis, Steve Martin and Amy Poehler were all featured.

We were interrupted from admiring the famous faces by the less-than-subtle entrance of two of the show's writers. They told us they'd been away for three weeks as though it was some kind of excuse for their hyper-activity. They had so much energy that it hurt to look directly at them, much like the sun.

After this fast-paced introduction to the world of television writing, we filed into the small and dark studio. In typical American fashion, there were 'windows' offering views of Manhattan at night - a staple of any late-night US talk show.

Meyers himself came out from behind his desk and explained a little about the studio, how it was a new set across from where Saturday Night Live was filmed. It was at this point that I remembered where I knew him from - he'd hosted the Weekend Update on SNL after Poehler left the show.

Time was tight, though, and it wasn't long before he began reeling off jokes the writers had written for him - so quickly that it would be impossible to remember them all. The volume of our laughter was seen by the staff as a measure of their success, but there were some so poor that only the writers themselves laughed.

In fact, the only quip that was of any real quality was one about the fact that Keanu Reeves has just turned fifty, which is good because "any lower and the bus explodes". That one apart, even Meyers himself seemed a little pained by the quality of the gags he was having to read.

The tight schedule and the nature of US television meant that our job was done in about half an hour, and we were shepherded out of the building as quickly as we'd come in, leaving the writers to analyse our response and decide which gags had made the cut for that night's broadcast.

The jokes may have been questionable but the evening as a whole was a top experience - an unexpected glimpse behind the curtain into the world of comedy where legends such as Chevy Chase, Bill Murray and Tina Fey have all plied their trade.

The US Open

Back in January, when I first learned that I would be moving to New York in the last week of August, one of the first things I did was look into the possibility of getting hold of tickets to the US Open. After all, I wasn't sure if I'd ever find myself in NYC at this time of year again.

Having been to Wimbledon already this summer, I thought I might know what to expect when arriving at Flushing Meadows. Obviously I was aware of Wimbledon's unique qualities, but part of me wondered just how different two Grand Slam tournaments could be when the game, players and schedule went virtually untouched.

But as we entered the grounds via Queens' famous Unisphere, subtle differences between The All England Club and Flushing Meadows became immediately apparent. Although both championships proudly celebrate their respective histories, your eyes at the US Open are drawn to sponsors rather than statues as you walk through the gates.

There are plaques listing previous winners, but you're soon distracted by the Heineken logos that dominate eye-level. More commercialization than commemoration.

That said, the imposing exterior of the Arthur Ashe stadium soon grabs the attention. Like at Wimbledon, you walk past a couple of outer courts before reaching the show courts and although there is no ivy climbing up the walls and no golden clocks giving it added glamour, the view of the US Open's centre-piece still carries the same authority as Wimbledon's Centre Court.

The Arthur Ashe Stadium's exterior - and a bearded bloke

We had arrived at the gates for entry to the evening session - itself an alien concept to me. Presumably it's another shameless method of increasing turnover at the turnstiles, but I wasn't complaining when the schedule drew up Roger Federer and Maria Sharapova on the same night. To see two former champions for around £50 didn't seem too bad, considering the tickets I inherited at Centre Court in the summer cost more than twice that amount.

If Madison Square Garden attempted to find a balance between size and intimacy, the Arthur Ashe Stadium made no such effort. They say everything is bigger in the United States and this stadium is testament to that - and it has to be, considering the US Open is the busiest tennis tournament in the world. The 'nosebleeds' (as our taxi driver condescendingly called our seats) offered panoramic views of the city, giving an idea of the sheer size of the arena.

The stadium is bigger, and so is the show. At Wimbledon the atmosphere is famously polite, a word you wouldn't necessarily associate with Flushing Meadows, or indeed New York as a whole. Five-time champion Federer was introduced amid a crescendo of rock music - a gimmick I can't see the All England Club adopting any time soon.

The same can be said for the way the marketing that was plentiful outside the stadium had managed to worm its way into the Arthur Ashe. Wimbledon has not been immune to the necessary evil that is commercialism in sport (even its strawberries and cream are sponsored by HSBC) but I can't imagine a break in play on Centre Court being filled by Tina Fey appearing on screen to try and sell the crowd bracelets.

The typically understated Federer provided a stark contrast to his loud surroundings as he disposed of the unseeded Australian Sam Groth in straight sets. However, my view of the opening exchanges were constantly interrupted by the mass of people trying to find their seat. At Flushing Meadows, movement around the stadium is not restricted whilst the players are in action.

This was a by-product of the far 'messier' nature of the tournament compared to Wimbledon. From the bustling crowds outside the venue to the way the ball-boys would throw the ball the length of the court rather than roll them about in a more organised fashion, the whole event seemed decidedly and unsurprisingly less regimented than Wimbledon.

Crowds outside the Arthur Ashe Stadium, with the Unisphere in the background

Whilst this was not how I was used to watching tennis, it created a refreshingly relaxed atmosphere that was more suited to the busy city that is New York. With the advertising, colossal arena and show-like atmosphere, it was a lesson in the fact that - contrary to popular belief over here - bigger doesn't always mean better. It just means different.

In the same way that Britain likes to think that Wimbledon reflects the country as a whole, the US Open had America written all over it - it even came complete with a nerveless twelve-year-old's rendition of 'America the Beautiful'. And like everything else at Flushing Meadows, it was impressive.

Madison Square Garden

As mentioned yesterday, the purpose of our journey into Manhattan was to visit Madison Square Garden. The option of visiting Times Square instead was offered too, but the opportunity to have a guided tour of what they unashamedly call the 'World's Most Famous Arena' was too good to miss.

It's a bold tagline to attach to a venue, but by the end of the two hours it was clear that it wasn't a statement without justification. Anyone with a passing interest in sport or music has heard of 'The Garden', but I'll admit that I expected nothing more than something along the lines of Wembley Arena with a little added sport. This was a preconception reinforced by the building's modest exterior but completely shattered once we got inside.

We were led by a chap who, despite having led this tour countless times, was still clearly in awe of the place. He may have simply been good at his job, but he'd have had to have been an incredible actor to fake that kind of enthusiasm.

He took us on what he called a 'New York walk' around the arena, beginning with the food and drink stalls that surround any large venue. These echoed the kind you'd find at Wembley Stadium - overpriced and heavily sponsored, but what caught the eye was what hung above each one.

Running the long length of the stalls was a picture accompanied by a date from a particular year, going all the way from January 1st to December 31st. An event from music, sport or politics for every single day of the year. I struggle to believe that the same could be done even if Wembley Stadium and Arena were combined.

Also adorning the outer parts of the stadium were displays paying tribute to key moments in the Garden's history. As a New York Rangers fan, the one that caught my eye was a case dedicated to Wayne Gretzky's final game in the NHL. It included his famous number 99 jersey, a number they retired across the entire NHL at the end of his career.

Translating that into English terms, it's very hard indeed to imagine Manchester City and Liverpool agreeing to retire their number 11 shirts when Ryan Giggs retired at the end of last season.

Even the most casual hockey fan would have heard of Wayne Gretzky and his appeal was evident in the photo that sat next to his shirt. I can't remember seeing too many hockey players tuck their jerseys in completely, and when the guide referred to him as 'a gentleman' I was reminded of images of Bobby Moore wiping his hands on his shorts before shaking the Queen's hand in 1966.

There were also tributes to the concerts MSG had hosted, including gigs that had raised millions after Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and Hurricane Sandy seven years later (for which Simon and Garfunkel came out of retirement). It was also interesting to hear the way the tour guide spoke of Elton John, who holds the record for the most shows played at the Garden - strange to hear how someone who grew up just a few miles from St. Albans is such a big part of this huge city's history.

Our first sight of the arena itself came via an exclusive lounge from which the view of MSG needs to be seen to be believed. I thought the lounge I worked in at Leicester Tigers was nice but the view from here was something else.

The strange thing about the Garden is the way it feels intimate yet enormous at the same time. The roof moves convexly from the top of the steep seating, down towards the GardenVision at the arena's centre, thus combining the Colosseum effect of a huge outdoor arena with the almost claustrophobic nature of an intimate theatre.

We were taken up onto the Bridge - seating that hung from the roof, suspended above what would be the court or rink. Once you'd gotten over the vertigo, the views were unique in that you were almost looking directly down upon the arena's focal point. It was just one of the technological miracles MSG had to offer, as the guide explained how the ice was created and then protected using fibre-glass to allow a basketball court or stage to be built on top of it.

Although the views were spectacular (even better than those you'd find at Clarence Park), it was the history of the place that provided the goosebumps. Banners hung from the ceiling commemorating Stanley Cup winning teams and musical records that had been broken at the Garden. The likes of Billy Joel, Michael Jordan and John F. Kennedy had all been the centre of attention at this famous arena.

Yet the tour guide spoke with most emotion as he described one particular New York Rangers game in October 2001, the first game at the Garden since the terrorist attacks of September 11th. As he described how Rangers captain Mark Messier donned the hat of fallen Fire Chief Ray Downey, you got the sense that this was not just the history of a sporting arena or musical venue, but the history of an entire city.

What $2.50 can get you...

Although it's been nearly four days since I arrived in New York City, it didn't seem right to bother writing anything until I'd made the trip under the East River into Manhattan.

It's been a busy few days but as incredible as it was to be re-united with Lucky Charms and to discover that Japanese money has holes in it, I'm not sure that's enough to write home about.

A personal highlight of days 1-3

I'd had glimpses of the skyline from the plane window, from campus and on the way to Target (basically Homebase, Wilkinsons and ASDA rolled into one) but it wasn't until Wednesday that we took the subway into 'the city'.

I thought I'd heard wrong when the tour advisors informed us that it cost just $2.50 to get into Manhattan from our campus in Queens. The subway ride took about half an hour - a twenty minute train ride from St. Albans to St. Pancras costs more than ten times that amount. Ridiculous.

Even though I'm staying for a year, I doubt I'll ever stop feeling like a tourist here. All the cliches you hear about NYC - the constant looking up, the questionable characters and incredible pace of the place - were confirmed within about a minute of stepping out of the subway.

We only spent an hour wandering the streets of Manhattan's midtown but still managed to take in Times Square and Broadway (was disappointed that Rent hadn't made a comeback), as well as catching glimpses of the World Trade Centre, Chrysler building and MetLife building from our base in Bryant Park - all of which I hope to get a closer look at over the coming months.

It was an odd feeling to be sat on the grass in a park with skyscrapers creating shade rather than trees. I'm not sure how many places there are in the world that can offer that.

Fittingly, there was an opportunity to pay tribute to the late, great Richard Attenborough at Macy's, the setting of the classic Miracle on 34th Street. But, as I'm quickly learning, there was only time to take a second before it was time to get going. Such is life here.

The Bank of America Tower as seen from Bryant Park

I wish I had stayed because before I knew it I was eating a 'chilli dog' (I still don't know what it is and it's sitting in my stomach) that was so soft I'm pretty sure I could have drunk it.

The purpose of our trip, however, was a guided tour of Madison Square Garden, but it wouldn't do justice to the history of the place to mention it without elaboration so that will have to be done at a later date.

Don't want to sign off on a negative note but I was a little disappointed not to have run into Harvey Specter somewhere in Manhattan. Not letting the fact that Suits is filmed in Toronto get in the way of that dream. Or the fact that he's fictional...