With Leather’s founding editor Matt Ufford attended the CrossFit Games in Carson, California last weekend. This is his report.

If you’ve never heard of CrossFit, the simplest description for it is “fitness cult.” As with most cults, there are gurus, a particular style of dress for its members, and a separate vocabulary that can take weeks or even months to learn. Notably — as with most cults — gurus and followers alike shy away from the word “cult.” But there’s one important difference between CrossFit and Scientology or Jonestown or the Movementarians: obeying CrossFit’s religion of short but intense workouts produces undeniable results.

Nowhere is that more obvious than the CrossFit Games, the fledgling sport’s annual competition to determine the fittest of the fit. The devotion of the faithful is on display everywhere: in the competing athletes, in the muscular bodies of the crowd, in the companies hawking fitness wear and protein drinks, in the food trucks selling snacks compatible with the paleo diet. Even as someone who works out at a CrossFit gym*, I felt out of place with my average build and torn pectoral muscle and general unwillingness to take off my shirt amidst a sea of physical perfection.

On the following pages is a photo essay of the Games, with my commentary peppered in. The professional-looking images are courtesy of CrossFit; the crappier candids were taken on my iPhone.

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The Rose Bowl hosted Saturday’s Gold Cup final between Mexico and the United States, and as the more talented and energetic Mexican squad capped a dominant 4-2 victory after spotting the Americans a two-goal lead, senior Sports Illustrated soccer writer Grant Wahl, noting the heavily pro-Mexican crowd, tweeted “Let’s be clear: Almost everyone in this stadium is American. And it’s kind of cool.”

I found Wahl’s comment infuriating on several levels. Not only did his blanket statement leave me wondering how many social security cards he’d checked as fans entered the stadium, it assigned my nationality to a fan base that is among the most vulgar, foul, and subhuman in all of sport. The filth of Mexican soccer fans is well documented: the chants of “Osama” at a 2005 match, their insistence at drowning out “The Star-Spangled Banner” with boos, the bags of urine and cups of vomit thrown at U.S. players. But I’ve always assigned those actions to Mexican fanatics in the legendarily brutal Estadio Azteca in Mexico City; I’ve never considered those animals to be American, and I certainly don’t relish that prospect as “cool.”

Uproxx reader Julie — a Boston native and therefore no stranger to boorish fans — traveled to Pasadena for the match. This is her account:

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Captain Morgan is at Super Bowl XLV in North Texas with our very own Matt Ufford and another special guest.

At long last, here’s the video we shot with Marisa Miller. Unfortunately, it was frigid in the viaduct where we shot it, so Marisa kept her coat on, but you can still get the general impression that she’s modestly attractive. Double unfortunately, Marisa’s entourage (I counted seven: hair stylist, makeup artist, husband, photographer, body guard, and two PR handlers) kept me from taking Marisa out for coffee so we could just, you know, talk. Get to know each other a little. Maybe exchange numbers, catch up when our travels put us in the same place. We’re both busy people. We shouldn’t have to make promises to each other just because of an undeniable mutual attraction.

Instead, as you can see, I was left to hold the boom mike and look sad. Ah well. Another lifetime, perhaps.

Pop some champagne and kiss a stranger on the street, because ESPN talking head and notorious asshole Jay Mariotti has been arrested and jailed in Los Angeles, where he was booked on suspicion of a felony offense. The L.A. Times says:

A source with knowledge of the case described it as a domestic disturbance charge involving his girlfriend. He was being held on $50,000 bail.

Mariotti’s legions of fans raced to Twitter to provide a groundswell of support for the columnist who makes Skip Bayless look sympathetic:

“I heard about Mariotti’s arrest and instantly heard the ‘clo-doink’ sound effect of Tony Reali taking points off his score.” – @edsbs
“I guess [Mariotti's] taste for killing and eating babies finally caught up with him.” — @mattufford
“Seeing that Jay Mariotti was arrested is like finding a bicycle made of naked women under my Christmas tree.” – @MayorBurnsy

We’ll have more details on Monday. Until then, we wish Mr. Mariotti a long, sleepless weekend of violent prison anal gang rape. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

With the Netherlands defeating Uruguay 3-2 yesterday and Spain facing Germany in the other semifinal later today, the 2010 FIFA World Cup is nearly at a close; the only other games to be played are the championship on Sunday and the third place game who cares.

It’s been a delightful World Cup; this is the first one I’ve fully enjoyed with the full power of the Internet behind it (in 2006 there was Deadspin and little else). The vuvuzela meme was so much fun that I grew to enjoy hearing the infernal buzz when I turned the TV on in the morning. And though the officiating was frequently terrible, the commentators were not: ESPN deserves credit for hiring excellent, intelligent broadcasters who elevated the games with their calls — most notably Ian Darke (below: watch/listen to Darke’s call of Giovanni von Bronckhorst’s rocket of a goal yesterday).

Finally, while it’s sad that the USA missed a golden chance to make the semifinals — assuming future advancements to the knockout stage, their quarter of the bracket won’t be filled with second-tier teams the likes of Ghana and Uruguay — it’s also nice to enjoy the games without screaming in angst or feeling ill at a defensive lapse that leads to a goal in the fifth minute. No, I’m happy to enjoy what little world-class soccer is left without seeing Wesley Sneijder and the Dutch destroy my favorite team. Maybe in 2014.

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Best shirts ever? Best shirts ever.

2:00 Eastern time. World Cup. USA-Ghana. DON’T F*CKING TREAD.

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