Greetings one last time Stateside syndicate members,
For now sixth time in nine years, it was an honor to spend a few weeks with all of you.
It’s been treat taking some of you hard-earned money as well, but I’m definitely sure I’ve done nowhere close to the amount of damage done by your student loan.
Give up for a women’s game that has become faster, more
engaging, more competitive, and more unpredictable than ever before. Give it up
for the hosts, the Krauts who sold out nearly every game! WPS Football in the
States is all too often played in front of 1,000 or less observers. Never in
German Women’s Bundesliga! We routinely top 10,000 per game, in large part
because we’re desperate to find some reason to drink heavily. Give it up for
yourselves.
I elected to undertake this project assuming interest would be slightly lower than the five pages I wrote on the 2005 Confederations Cup. Much to my astonishment, almost all of you checked in. Others came out of nowhere to offer their bets and their shticks. I am eternally grateful. Our ranks swell, as do (I assume) the vulvas’ of the crotch-kicked women who have done such an outstanding job of entertaining us these past weeks.
I elected to undertake this project assuming interest would be slightly lower than the five pages I wrote on the 2005 Confederations Cup. Much to my astonishment, almost all of you checked in. Others came out of nowhere to offer their bets and their shticks. I am eternally grateful. Our ranks swell, as do (I assume) the vulvas’ of the crotch-kicked women who have done such an outstanding job of entertaining us these past weeks.
Something of a short and sweet fling we’ve managed this time
around. Three weeks as opposed to four. The total page count barely tops 70,
nowhere near the 300+ that the World Cup usually generates or the 200-250 from
Euro 2004 and 2008. Hmmmm….has Vicey finally managed to keep things within
scope? Hehehe. Still the same old Vicey. I still take great pleasure in writing
your ludicrously oversized papers, if for no other reason that I get a sick
satisfaction out of ruining Humanities Professor’s weekends.
They deserve it. All of them. Trust me. At no point during their hubris-driven, vanity-laden, narrowly focused, niche-obsessed lives do these worthless louts not deserved to be kicked in the shins and spat upon. Should you find such impetuous acts to be distasteful, kill them with pages of their own nonsense instead.
They deserve it. All of them. Trust me. At no point during their hubris-driven, vanity-laden, narrowly focused, niche-obsessed lives do these worthless louts not deserved to be kicked in the shins and spat upon. Should you find such impetuous acts to be distasteful, kill them with pages of their own nonsense instead.
In spite of my stated wish to make the Summer Football
Sportsbook an annual affair, I can assure you that our correspondence will
remain in proportion to the magnitude of events. I wholeheartedly promise not
to badger my friends with ruminations on the FIFA U-20/U-18/U-17/U-15 World
Cups. There shall be no blog on the World Cup of Beach Football, a game to be
played with ardor and never written about. As much as I’d love to, I won’t
pester anyone with the Euro Playoffs in November or make anyone’s inbox explode
with Champions League Lines J I’ve more pledges for you
later.
This project’s brevity notwithstanding, we’ve once again
managed share something significant together. I certainly learned more about
this particular game. I now know more about 126 women than any dirty hermit should.
It’s been a blast, far more fun than anything else I’ve researched this year.
I’ve also learned that having an American mother entitles me to root for
American Women.
For those who are hopeful that my newfound nationalism will enable me to applaud the U.S. Men’s side…….sorry, I don’t do treason. Should the States meet my beloved Mannschaft in any international competition, a scant few nanoseconds will be required for me to determine my loyalty. Sorry, Yanks. Women are acceptable, but I cannot enlist in Sam’s Army. They have ways of making me talk….and I’ve always liked talking to them. It’ll never happen.
For those who are hopeful that my newfound nationalism will enable me to applaud the U.S. Men’s side…….sorry, I don’t do treason. Should the States meet my beloved Mannschaft in any international competition, a scant few nanoseconds will be required for me to determine my loyalty. Sorry, Yanks. Women are acceptable, but I cannot enlist in Sam’s Army. They have ways of making me talk….and I’ve always liked talking to them. It’ll never happen.
More important than anything related to this competition,
the most rewarding things I’ve learned come from you, syndicate members. I’ve
learned of new locations, new occupations, new familial additions and new
familial departures. I’ve listened with glee in learning about situations in
which all goes swimmingly. I’ve been disquieted to learn about unfortunate
states of affairs where even the ingenuity of two creative minds is remiss to
find grounds for optimism.
Above all, I’ve learned that another year has passed and we
all continue to grind on. In the face of disappointments, personal tragedy, and
troubles we could have never prepared for, pressing forward is the automatic
response. For what is life but an endless series of challenges? The further we
stretch, the higher the sky. The longer we carry the heavier the load. Hardly a
moment prevails during which one might pause to congratulate oneself when more
trials and the insecurities associated therewith loom on the horizon. Barely
time to reflect upon what one has accomplished when the glare of what one
hasn’t dominates perception.
Allow me to personally congratulate all of you with whom
I’ve had the pleasure of spending this time with for moving forward through
another year. Whatever wounding criticisms you face are nothing more than
impermanent illusions. No syndicate member that I am aware of is incapable of
grasping the important lessons and revving ahead. Let the academics be consumed
with the empty vanity that precludes them from listening to any speakers other
than themselves at a conference.
May we continue to speak with one another in the spirit of enjoyment and discovery. To hell with the future one is expected to “win” for oneself. Although I hope these past three weeks have been something of an entertaining distraction for you, a larger hope is that I may still be considered a true friend; one that you may call anytime; one that you may always rely upon.
May we continue to speak with one another in the spirit of enjoyment and discovery. To hell with the future one is expected to “win” for oneself. Although I hope these past three weeks have been something of an entertaining distraction for you, a larger hope is that I may still be considered a true friend; one that you may call anytime; one that you may always rely upon.
Speaking of “mildly” entertaining diversions……
All lines are calculated personally by your friendly bookie
Vicey…..the man who even Diogenes of Sinope told to get a real job. The
correspondence that follows is, as always, crafted with sincere amity for those
who appreciate sharp wit and an extra spot of fun in their day. Should you
prefer solemnity, drama, and conflict… kindly return to speculating on which
Republican Presidential contender is the tallest Leprechaun.
Third Place Match:
France vs. Sweden
vs. 
First we have this completely unanticipated match, which should make for pleasurable viewing nonetheless. Who could have predicted Caroline Seger would have failed a late fitness test? Who could have augured that Lotta Schelin would come down with a touch of the flu? Who could have forecasted that Hedvig Lidahl would keep goal as if she had been tased? Who could have foreseen that Thomas Dennerby would opt for a flaccid 4-5-1 formation, grant Rohlin the armband, and start Marie Hammarstom of all the cold benchwarmers?? On well. As Dr. Stephen Weinberg has often said, “were the universe comprehensible, it would instantly become pointless.”
My wallet continues to reel from the Swedish shocker. Blame
falls squarely on disobedient striker (and part time bikini model) Josephone
Øqvist who, after booting in a gorgeous goal early in the match, DECLINED TO
PARTAKE IN LOTTA SCHELIN’S PAGAN FERTILITY CIRCLE. Odin was angered, and ten
minutes later she scored an own goal. When will people learn that the Norse
Gods are not to be fucked with? Throughout this entire tournament, the Swedes
have reliably performed in a manner diametrically opposite to my predictions.
I express confidence in them and they come out flatter than an open Bud Select 55. I write them off and suddenly they’re an unstoppable Panzer Division. Add to this the fact that my Saab is now leaking oil from SEVEN separate ridiculously unreachable locations and the Ikea bookshelf I proudly spent an afternoon assembling collapsed the other day. What’s an obviously cursed bookie to do?
I express confidence in them and they come out flatter than an open Bud Select 55. I write them off and suddenly they’re an unstoppable Panzer Division. Add to this the fact that my Saab is now leaking oil from SEVEN separate ridiculously unreachable locations and the Ikea bookshelf I proudly spent an afternoon assembling collapsed the other day. What’s an obviously cursed bookie to do?
I tell you what he does. He picks up some French girls and
let’s them ride him all the way home. It is of no consequence which deities
currently smite my thorny existence. I am supremely confident that “La Blue
Girls” will come out guns blazing and my prolonged conflict with Norse Goddess
of Victory, Sigyn will come to a gory end. Off with that smug bitches head! The
froggies have played hard with more consistency than any team in the
tournament. Bring it, mon fille! Make it rough! Make it hurt! Join me for a
Gauloises afterward.
Third place matches generally exhibit great pace, flow, and
experimentation. Les Bleaus will likely trot out both Fullback Cronie France
and Midfielder Caroline Pizzala, neither of whom have seen action yet. I would
be extremely surprised to see Thiney or Delie start at forward. In their place
we’ll probably see the superbly talented trio of Thomas, Breitigny, and Le
Sommer accrue some experience. In late substitution appearances, all three of
these youngsters have revealed themselves to be struggling slightly with their
touch. This should prove immaterial when they are given an entire game to find
it and the placing pressure is largely off.
Official tournament darling Louisa Necib should be able to provide them with some quality chances while the electric captain with the perfect syllabically constructed name (BOM-BAS-TOR!!) keeps the ball out of the defending third. Other than those two, virtually the French will employ no first-stringers. This is fantastic news, as Abily, Georges and Bussaglia need to take a seat. A fresh squad and (hopefully) a fearlessly aggressive 4-3-3 should be enough to eviscerate the bumbling blaugults.
Official tournament darling Louisa Necib should be able to provide them with some quality chances while the electric captain with the perfect syllabically constructed name (BOM-BAS-TOR!!) keeps the ball out of the defending third. Other than those two, virtually the French will employ no first-stringers. This is fantastic news, as Abily, Georges and Bussaglia need to take a seat. A fresh squad and (hopefully) a fearlessly aggressive 4-3-3 should be enough to eviscerate the bumbling blaugults.
How did Japan so thoroughly dismantle this Swedish side?
Easy. After some fortuitous goals they maintained possession, kept the ball on
the ground, shut down the flanks, and tackled strongly. What aerial advantage?
It’s of no use if (as our Swedish Fish found out) you can’t even manage to get
off a cross!! Obligatory second-team starters for the Swedes include Defenders
Linda Sembrandt and Lina Nilsson. Forward Madeline Edlund will likely take the
place of recovering still-recovering Schelin while Sofia Jakobsson should
replace Lisa Dhalqvist. Together these ladies have an anemic amount of caps and
must follow the gawkish lead of the bullish and clumsy Nilla Fischer.
Tune in early on Saturday to chill with ze French. This
happens to be one of those exceedingly rare occasions during which they will
actually get something worthwhile done and refrain from acutely irritating
you.
Vive le’ France!! L'étendard sanglant est levé!
THE
LINE: France +1
Prop Bets (as always, feel free to offer your own):
Over/Under ---4 Goals
120 Minutes— 2 to 1
Penalty Shootout— 2 to 1
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Sweden 2, France 1. After enduring a frustrating game during which nothing came
her way, Lotta Schelin wasn’t taking any chances in the 29th. Sara
Larsson managed to get a long ball in towards her and she immediately slipped
it past Sapowicz with a leaping touch. Two injuries for the Froggies in a
highly physical first half. Sapowicz twisted her ankle running out to meet
Schelin and had to leave the game on a stretcher. Necib would later knock knees
with Annika Svenson and couldn’t continue past the 32nd. This was by
no means a pretty game. No shortage of clumsy challenges and reckless behavior.
It got even uglier after Elodie Thomis restored parity in the 56th.
A
frustrated Svenson, fooled by Thiney as she set up the equalizer, poked and
prodded at Thomis as she confidently tried to muscle in some looks at goal.
Josephine Öqvist struck the post in the 64th, then, perhaps losing
patience with everything, committed one of the cruelest fouls one will ever see
in the 68th. In a highly physical battle Bompastor near the
touchline, the two jostled one another to the ground. Whilst they found
themselves on the turf, Öqvist gave Bompastor a blatantly vicious cleat to the
chest. I know nothing about how sensitive that female area is, but I can’t
imagine a forceful foot of metal studs to the mammary glands is something one
can just shrug off. Öqvist saw straight red for this catty move and Bompastor
could be overheard hysterically bitching with Bruno Bini well after the match
had concluded.
Substitute
Marie Hammarström won the day with a spectacular 40-yard strike in the 82nd.
Almost as impressive as the shot itself, she superbly out dueled both Le Sommer
and Bompastor one-on-one to gain the space. The fact that Sweden had been
reduced to ten mattered not, seeing as how Bompastor wasn’t really in the game
after the Öqvist incident.
THE MATCH TO END ALL (WOMEN’S) MATCHES
USA vs. Japan
vs. 
Often times in lesser tournaments, I declare that all bets are off for the final. Finals are a time to lounge, drink, and leisurely/passively while away a Sunday afternoon with the beautiful game. Some may recall that I obstinately refused any bets during the Euro 2008 Spain-Germany Final. Why? Because I simply wanted to get blitzed, root for my country against the odds, and not have to sit down with my black book after a debilitating loss and do arithmetic of all things! Please consider my experience and reflect on this reasoning.
It has come to my attention recently that I’ve created a monstrous
cadre of compulsive gamblers, totally unequipped for their team’s presence in
“The Big Game”. As a result, I’ve been besieged by requests from anxious ogres,
salivating at the chance to lay their wife’s sock-drawer money on the
invincibility of Uncle Sam. One can only hope that our creditors display such
zeal after we default on our debt in a few weeks. Look, I welcome your
enthusiasm.
The fact that I’ve played some small role in helping form fervent fanatics devoid of any common sense surely must be that “difference” my Kindergarten teacher kept insisting I would make in the world. Very flattering. Very touching. To remain aloof from this insanity would be in some ways disingenuous of me. This is why I’ve elected to afford you an opportunity to bet on your team whilst still doing everything in my power to discourage it.
The fact that I’ve played some small role in helping form fervent fanatics devoid of any common sense surely must be that “difference” my Kindergarten teacher kept insisting I would make in the world. Very flattering. Very touching. To remain aloof from this insanity would be in some ways disingenuous of me. This is why I’ve elected to afford you an opportunity to bet on your team whilst still doing everything in my power to discourage it.
You’ve already read my mini-lecture concerning the luxury of
simply enjoying the match. Think further about the perils of hyping yourself up
for a game, being improbably let down, and then realizing that the money you
lost will invariably ruin next week as well. Finally, take into account that
your bookie has to insist on a high line. This game is a VERY SKEWED mismatch
on paper. The Japanese have been known to pull miraculous 54,827 Hit Combos out
of their ass, but have about as much chance of winning here as poor Angurius
had against Mechagodzilla. (The knowledge of an insomniac occasionally extends
beyond C-Span)
YOUR TEAM WILL WIN! For your wife’s sake, for you children’s
sake, for the sake of whatever gluttonous addictions happen regularly drain
your wallet, DON’T SET YOURSELF UP TO LOSE! Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a
career. Choose a family. Choose a big television. Choose washing machines,
cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. (Don’t you love how two
of those are ludicrously dated?)
This looks to be a very exciting final! Samehima, Kinga, and
Kumagi were supposed to be more exhausted than Larry Flynt after the AVN
Awards. Instead they shocked us all by continually pressing forward in one the
most hawkish displays I’ve ever seen from a defending corps! The strategy of
this Japanese team is not difficult to discern: They are going full-blown
Kamikaze, throwing EVERYONE forward without the slightest twitch of fear or
regret. Following the conservative, disciplined approach to Germany Norio
Sasaki evidently told the Nadeshiko to play with reckless abandon.
In a stage of the tournament they have no business being in, against an unquestionably stronger team, with nothing to lose and a cajoling media pumping them up, look for them to encroach as many as nine players early. “Banzai, motherfuckers!” In American parlance, “Kitchen Sink” will be the watchword. They won’t let up.
In a stage of the tournament they have no business being in, against an unquestionably stronger team, with nothing to lose and a cajoling media pumping them up, look for them to encroach as many as nine players early. “Banzai, motherfuckers!” In American parlance, “Kitchen Sink” will be the watchword. They won’t let up.
How long will this strategy work? Impossible to say. All indications are that the Japs will
boldly trot out the same starting eleven they’ve been using for most of the
tournament and deal with the fatigue issue only if it becomes a visible
disadvantage. Iwabuchi and Maruyama are almost guaranteed substitutions,
leaving them very little wiggle room should there be an injury. Other than
these two sparkplugs, there isn’t another bench player who has logged
significant minutes. Candidly, it will be up to the same squad that has played
the entire tournament to deliver another improbably all out, maximum effort
performance. They may well succeed in doing so, but let’s look at the team they
face.
“All the Right Moves” isn’t merely a movie staring a
maniacal midget with a one-inch penis, it also should be the headlines
detailing Pia Sundhage’s managerial approach to the last game. It began with
the brilliant decision to move Ali Krieger and start Becky Sauerbrunn in her
position. A certain amateur bookie directly called for that move and wondered
(as he often does) if he had finally attained the title of “complete moron”. As
it turns out, Sauerbrunn handled her rather demanding assignment with aplomb.
For an outfielder with only 11 international caps to step in late in a tournament and provide such ideal miserly defending is no small feat. Another move advocated by a certain rambling idiot happened to be flipping Wambach and Rodriguez’s advancing assignments. This worked splendidly. Not playing as the lead striker appeared to allow Wambach to find her rhythm at her own pace. After Rodriguez was substituted, Wambach reclaimed the role and both her touch and timing were immaculate.
For an outfielder with only 11 international caps to step in late in a tournament and provide such ideal miserly defending is no small feat. Another move advocated by a certain rambling idiot happened to be flipping Wambach and Rodriguez’s advancing assignments. This worked splendidly. Not playing as the lead striker appeared to allow Wambach to find her rhythm at her own pace. After Rodriguez was substituted, Wambach reclaimed the role and both her touch and timing were immaculate.
Fatigue and a lack of imagination set in around the 54th
minute. Sundhage’s first move was to bring in Alex Morgan early and let her
adjust to the tempo. Ten minutes later it was time to tinker with the midfield.
Cheney switched sides, Boxx and O’Reilly were tasked with the central part of
the pitch, and Carli Lloyd was substituted for Rapinoe. All the maneuvering
enabled Rapinoe to work her preferred left flank. Three minutes after setting
up Wambach’s goal she made her dominance of that flank obvious, setting up
Morgan with an exquisite little through ball for goal number three. Marvelous.
This woman should be coaching the men’s team!
So there we have it. One coach has his team on a
suicide-mission; the other carefully calibrates the talent on the pitch with
all the meticulousness of a Formula One mechanic. If this fails to engender
enough optimism, consider that O’Reilly, Rodriguez, Rampone, Cheney, Buehler,
Krieger and Boxx are all in extraordinary form. Those are just your starters!
Rapinoe, Heath, and Cox will be the perfect substitution trio should you get
into trouble, but a possible blowout means you may see Lindsey, Mitts, and
O’Hara instead. Anything can happen, of course, but all signs point to a record
third U.S. Championship
A MESSAGE TO ALL MY AMERICAN FRIENDS:
What good is a World Championship in Women’s Sports? Were it
in Volleyball, Shuffleboard, Handball, Ice Hockey, Basketball, Table Tennis,
Golf, Softball………ANY OTHER SPORT BUT THIS ONE, you’re right! Who give a
hemorrhaging fuck? This happens to be not “a” sport, but “the” sport; the sport
than over 80 percent of the world holds in the highest esteem. In the
burgeoning world of Women’s Football, two countries are tied at two when it
comes to the most world championships. The U.S. won the inaugural tournament in
1991 and Brandi Chastain took off her shirt in 1999. Germany is the two time
defending world champions, winning in 2003 and 2007.
A win on Sunday will make you the UNCONTESTED ALL-TIME CHAMPIONS OF WORLD FOOTBALL (provided what happens to be between your legs is irrelevant). Please treat this as a cause for great celebration. A world champion is not crowned perfunctorily. This should ideally be a special day for you.
A win on Sunday will make you the UNCONTESTED ALL-TIME CHAMPIONS OF WORLD FOOTBALL (provided what happens to be between your legs is irrelevant). Please treat this as a cause for great celebration. A world champion is not crowned perfunctorily. This should ideally be a special day for you.
Surround yourself with trusted friends. Cheer, shout, and
dance together. When it’s all over, remember to go kick a ball with a stranger
(no matter what happens to be between their legs J)
THE
LINE: USA + 3
Prop Bets (as always, feel free to offer your own):
Over/Under ---4 Goals
120 Minutes— 3 to 1
Penalty Shootout— 4 to 1
My Five Pledges to Syndicate Members:
1) No more Football Blogs until Euro 2012
(Bets on the final rounds of qualifying are of course
welcome)
2) No more “Election Books”
(We’ll stick to sports, I promise. Politics may resemble
sports, but it really shouldn’t)
3) I don’t care if Watson is coming back to Jeopardy!
(I’ve said all I’d care to about it. You’ll never hear any
more from me on the subject.)
4) “This Week in Obscure Scholarship” Belongs on the
Internet
(not in your inboxes. I’ve got it J.)
5) I will grow a pair and submit some things
(given present circumstances, I’ve officially run out of
excuses J)
FINAL GOODBYE TO FOOTBALL FANS EVERYWHERE:
(Reprinted from 2006, 2008, and 2010)
Goodbye to all syndicate members: old, new, and morbidly
curious. One day Carl Kasell will record this on my outgoing voicemail.
“Peace with the Metric System”
“I don’t know what to say really. Three minutes to the
biggest battle of our professional lives. All comes down to today. Either we
heal as a team, or we’re going to crumble. 2.54 centimeters by 2.54
centimeters…set piece by set piece….til we’re finished. We’re in hell right now
gentlemen. Believe me. And…….we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us,
or………..we can fight our way back…….into the light…….we can climb our way out of
hell. 2.54 Centimeters at a time.
Now I can’t do it for you. I’m too old. I look around, I see
all of these young faces and think……..I mean……..I’ve made every wrong choice a
middle-aged man can make. I…ah…. pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I
chased off anyone who’s ever loved me. And lately, I can’t even stand the face I
see in the mirror. You know, when you get old in life, things get taken from
you…. I mean that’s…that’s…...that’s part of life. But, you only learn that
when you start losing stuff. You find out life’s this game of 2.54 centimeters.
So is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error
is so small…..I mean…one half a step too late or too early, you don’t quite
make it. One half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite kick it. The
centimeters we need are everywhere around us! They’re in every break of the
game, every minute, every second.
On this team, we fight for those 2.54 centimeters. On this
team, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for those 2.54
centimeters. We claw with our fingernails for those 2.54 centimeters! Because,
we know when we add up all those centimeters, that’s gonna make the FUCKIN
difference between winnin and losin!!!!!!!! Between living and dieing!!!
I’ll tell you this: In any fight, it’s the guy who’s willin
to die, who’s gonna win that 2.54 centimeters. And I know, if I’m gonna have
any life anymore, it’s because I’m still willing to fight and die for those
2.54 centimeters!!! Because….that’s what livin is!!! The 15.24 centimeters in
front of your face!!
Now I can’t make you do it! You’ve gotta look at the guy
next to you. LOOK INTO HIS EYES!! Now I think you’re gonna see a guy who will
go those 2.54 centimeters with you. I think you’re gonna see a guy who will
sacrifice himself for this team because he knows, when it comes down to it,
you’re gonna do the same for him. That’s a team, gentlemen. And, either we
heal, NOW, as a team……..or we will die…as individuals. That’s football guys.
That’s all it is. Now………..WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?!?!?!?!”
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Japan 3, USA 2. (3:1 PSO)
Er…….ooops. Yes, I genuinely felt horrible after pumping everyone up for this
one. I should have known that, had it come down to penalty kicks, the Japs
would have better scouting intelligence. For the first time in my life, I was personally
dismayed by a U.S. loss. It felt every bit as bad as a Fatherland loss. Sure, I
pocketed some coin, but it didn’t brighten my mood at all. Heavy drinking
following this one. I’m still rather sad about it. Oh well. The sooner we
finish dissecting it, the sooner I can forget about the whole sordid affair.
Sundhage
replaced Rodriguez with a brash attempt to slot in Cheney as an Anchoring
Forward. This enabled her to give Rapinoe the start she absolutely deserved as
Sam’s Angels deployed a reshuffled 4-4-2. Rapinoe was shot straight out of a
cannon yet again. She proved herself a world-class footballer worthy of a spot
on the grand stage, slashing all the way up the pitch past four defenders for a
stunning effort on goal in the 8th. One minute later she tore
through the Japanese ranks once again to set up Wambach, who fired over. Very
much the animated start for the U.S. side as they generated a dozen or so
decent chances in the first half. Cheney and Wambach shaved the woodwork while
Rapinoe smacked the post twice. Carli Lloyd fired barely over as well. To top
it all of, Cheney managed to find the top of the net at halftime.
Lacking
a goal, Sundhage was forced to concede that the Cheney experiment wasn’t
necessarily going to yield the desired results. Alex Morgan emerged from the
tunnel as her replacement and the hungry little hottie went straight to work.
She put the eighth U.S. post ball on frame in the 49th following a
delicious setup from Rapinoe. Morgan and Rapinoe would continue to push until
the lead was theirs. Rapinoe sprang Morgan on an up-tempo counter in the 69th.
After crowding out Kumagai with an impressive show of strength, the
Western New York Flash forward let fly with a rising drive that left Kaihori
with no chance. The contest persisted in its one-sidedness. It was truly a
shock to see the Nadeshiko equalize in the 81st.
The
Japs had gotten virtually nothing going all afternoon, and a mediocre Maruyama
cross didn’t seem set to alter matters. However, LePeilbet, Buehler, and
Krieger were all sixes and sevens. Krieger made an unbecomingly horrendous
mistake, feeding a diagonal clearance directly on the feet of Miyama, who then
fired home. Watching the replays, one remains at a loss to discern what in the
hell she was thinking. Terrible play from a magnificent player.
The
U.S. continued to reign supreme throughout the first period of extra time. Alex
Morgan played her heart out, finally making it count on the score sheet with a
precision cross that Wambach nailed in for a 104th minute lead.
Japan again improbably equalized from one of the only set pieces they had been
awarded all evening. The veteran Sawa knocked in Miyama’s corner in 117th
and this fucked up match was back to being tied. Morgan and fellow substitute
Heath were clear on goal, sure to score a dramatic late winner in the 121st
when Azusa Iwashimizu employed the so-called “professional foul”. As per the
rules, she was dismissed with a straight red for preventing a sure goal-scoring
opportunity. Somehow it just doesn’t seem fair enough. Given that the pair were
surely about to score, a penalty might have been awarded. Alas, the foul took
place outside the box.
To
penalties we went and the Japs had done their homework. Kaihori knew precisely
where the first three U.S. Shooters would go. Down they went in order: Boxx,
Lloyd, and Heath. Solo managed to save Nagasato and no one else. Interviewed in
the immediate aftermath of the debacle, an exchange between Pia Sundhage and a
reporter on the pitch went as follows:
Reporter:
How do you explain three straight penalty misses?
Sundhage:
You don’t.
Couldn't
agree more. What a devastating loss.
Well,
gentlemen. We come to the conclusion of nearly four months work, done in spare
time that might have been better spent…..ah hell….I probably would have just
spent it getting drunk and watching C-span. Glad I wrote all of this. Ecstatic
that it’s finally over. I can think of no better way to celebrate our return to
the present with some final hot girl rankings for the U.S. and Japan. In the
event that anyone considers me an insensitive asshole for ranking women based
on their looks, I’ll freely admit that I’m probably no better than a 4.2
myself…maybe a 6.0 when I was younger. It’s only one man’s opinion in any case.
If you
laughed out loud at any proportion of this over-scoped project, I’ve done as
well as can reasonably be expected. I’d be more elated to learn that you’re
still working on some of your own writing, breaking though whatever
self-imposed block happens to be haranguing you this time. As always, send your
stuff the Shadow Scholar’s way. For over ten years I’ve managed to make time
for it all and I’ve no plans to neglect any individual who works the keys.
Keep
assaulting those keys, my syndicate brethren. Never forget that you kick ass.
You wouldn’t have been invited if you were anything less than the finest minds
I’ve ever met. Drop by and hang with us anytime you like. The door remains open
no matter what foolishness I’m up to…
Japan 
Rumi
Utsugi
|
9.6
|
Naihomi
Kawasumi
|
9.4
|
Homare
Sawa
|
9.2
|
Karina
Maruyama
|
8.9
|
Kozue
Ando
|
8.2
|
Aya
Sameshima
|
8.0
|
Mana
Iwabuchi
|
7.5
|
Asuna
Tanaka
|
6.6
|
Megumi
Kamionobe
|
5.9
|
Yukari
Kinga
|
5.5
|
Saki
Kumagai
|
5.3
|
Shinobu
Ohno
|
4.5
|
Aya
Miyama
|
4.2
|
Yuki
Nagasato
|
4.0
|
Ayumi
Kaihori
|
3.9
|
Kyoko
Yano
|
3.7
|
Megumi
Takese
|
3.3
|
Mizuho
Sakaguchi
|
3.2
|
Azusa
Iwashimizu
|
3.0
|
USA 
Kelley
O’Hara
|
10.0
|
Ali
Krieger
|
10.0
|
Alex
Morgan
|
9.9
|
Hope
Solo
|
9.2
|
Meaghan
Rapinoe
|
8.9
|
Heather
Mitts
|
8.2
|
Carli
Lloyd
|
8.0
|
Tobin
Heath
|
7.9
|
Amy
Rodriguez
|
7.7
|
Lori
Lindsey
|
6.9
|
Heather
O’Reilly
|
6.8
|
Abby
Wambach
|
6.5
|
Becky
Sauerbrunn
|
6.4
|
Rachel
Buehler
|
5.8
|
Stephanie
Cox
|
5.6
|
Amy
Lepeilbet
|
5.3
|
Shannon
Boxx
|
5.1
|
Lauren
Cheney
|
5.0
|
Christine
Rampone
|
4.8
|
