Alvorada Syndicate Members,
Time to get saccharine, sentimental, slushy, soapy, and even downright tender. If you’re a new syndicate member finding it difficult to cope with over 2000 pages of esoteric text, I highly recommend skimming through all NINE “Goodbyes and Championship Picks” Sections. Your friendly bookie ultimately likes communicating with you in a sincere fashion. After all of the sardonic shadowboxing, there comes a climactic time for heartfelt words. Like any quixotic dreamer, I’m absolutely nothing without you. In a world inundated by “information overload”, you took a few minutes to, at the very least, casually browse through my words. It doesn’t matter to me how paltry your numbers are. It will never matter ; )
Before we get to really schmaltzy stuff, a few
administrative matters must be attended to.
First, the “e-mail riff of the day” necessitates a response:
E-mail Riff of the Day
(Female)
Reader: You’re nothing more than a wannabe professor. You should consider
settling down.
Vicey: Awwww….. “Jessie”, how do you know always know
just when to call?
I’ll take that as a compliment. Paint your pictures about
“how it’s gonna be.” Tell me all about our little “trailer by the sea”. By now
I definitely know better. Your dreams are never free. We’ll never drink tequila
and look for seashells. I can’t listen to you promise anymore. Life is about
working entirely too hard only to be unceremoniously dismissed in the end.
That’s all there is.
So it goes.
Next, Syndicate Member deserve an up-to-date account of the
“Hot Girl Standings”
Hot Girl Standings
Country
|
Tally
|
Games
Played
|
Brazil
|
82
|
4
|
Spain
|
53
|
4
|
Italy
|
41
|
4
|
Mexico
|
42
|
3 (finished)
|
Uruguay
|
30
|
4
|
Japan
|
23
|
3 (finished)
|
Nigeria
|
23
|
3 (finished)
|
Tahiti
|
16
|
3 (finished)
|
Almost zero hopes of an upset. Perhaps things will be
different next summer. Final standings will be disseminated upon the arrival of
the next syndicate.
Next, we must address my stats:
My Updated Stats—
Spread: 4-10
Straight up: 9-4-1
What can I say? Na Rua, Na Chuva, Na Fazenda. Your friendly
bookie sits reliably in the black. To date, the only Syndicate I actually lost
money on remains this Spring’s Papal Election. True. “Syndicate: Jesus on the
Moneyline” didn’t work out as I had hoped. ; ( ; ( Perhaps God exists after
all.
Finally, we must set lines for the consolation prize:
Third Place Match—Italy vs. Uruguay
vs. 
The marathon 120-minute firework show that took two rounds of Sudden Death Penalty Kicks to decide will surely leave Chielleni, Bonucci, Maggio, De Rossi, Pirlo, and Gaicherreni too exhausted to participate. A positive outlook prevails for the Wops, even if the injured Balotelli will be unable to play. Prandelli can easily dust off Abate, Giovinco, and Diamanti.
This match will feature more aged has-beens than the United
States Senate. Nevertheless, “Spaghetti-Fresser” will salvage some pride
against the Uruguayan reserves.
THE
LINE: Italy + 1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Italy 3, Uruguay 2. (a.e.t. 3-2 PSO) Come kickoff
time many of us were pondering the utility of a third place match in an
eight-nation tournament. What was the use of a consolation prize in a dry-run
competition that winning is already considered a consolation prize?
Fortunately, the 22 participants demonstrated that they did in fact care and
gave us quite the entertaining show. The result constituted another strong
argument for the implementation of Third Place Matches in ALL international
tournaments. Listening UEFA?
Initially both sides played as one might expect in a
meaningless match. One had the impression that no one particularly wanted to be
playing football on a sunny day in Salvador. The Wops then broke in open in the
24th. Diamanti’s fine curling free kick deserved the far post
corner. It got the actual far post instead, but then took a lucky bounce off of
Uruguayan keeper Fernando Muslera and hit the line square. Backup centerback
David Astori nudged it over the line for the lead. After being denied a goal by
a close offside decision, La Celeste finally drew level thirteen minutes after
the restart when Arevalo set up Cavani with a sweet little diamond cutter.
Cavani let it roll until he could pounce on it with full momentum for the
first-time finish.
Uruguay kept the pressure on with worthy efforts from
Forlan and Suarez, but the Azzurri would recapture the lead in the 73rd
courtesy of another Diamanti set-piece gem. The tyro Walter Gragano studded
down Diamanti just outside the area with a late challenge. The Bologna
midfielder then peeled off a real beauty, bending his effort outside the wall
and past the fully outstretched arms of Muslera. Cavani tied matters up with
his own brilliant free-kick a scant five minutes later. Tripped up by Christina
Rodriguez, Cavani blasted a swerving 35-yard hellfire missile over the wall and
past a flailing Buffon.
Not much to report on in with respect to either the final
twelve minutes or the additional half hour of added time. Suarez tried to gain
an advantage with some of his patented simulation, but that was about it.
Fatigue was clearly a factor for the Italians, who also had to play with ten
men after Montolivo was sent off on double yellows in the 110th.
Forlan set the tone of the shootout with a weak ground effort that was scooped
up by Buffon. The Talismanic Wop Captain would also hold on to low drives from
Caceres and Gargano. Aquilani, El Shaarawy, and Giacherreni all converted to
secure the win and the bronze in Confed Cup 2013.
Now we’ve determidedly arrived at the mushy part. We’ll
employ the bold font, just for good measure:
Time to say goodbye. For many of you, the words I
presently write will be the final ones we exchange for another year. It’s even
possible that they're the final communiqués we’ll ever. People move on, and
they have every right to do so. I’ve ethereally poked fun at the girl that
suggested I pursue who suggested that I pursue a tenured full-professorship,
but I honestly understand how PhDs feel. An individual can pour every last
morsel of his or her heart and soul into teaching and looking after others,
only to feel as if all the thoughtful advice was useless. As the years pass,
even the most lionhearted amongst us grows cold and cynical. Our eyes are no
longer able to recognize the “bright stars” in our limited field of vision.
I’m truly sorry if I’ve missed any “bright stars” that
crossed my path. I may only be a “Pretend Professor”, but I’m just as guilty as
a real one when it comes to ignoring real talent. All I have to modestly offer
in return is the hope that you’ll join us for our next Syndicate in a few
weeks…..which essentially means I have practically nothing to offer ; ( Care to
come watch some European Women’s Football? I can’t hope to convince you. Even
this ultra-cool graphic won’t sway you:
I’m certainly no salesman. I’m merely a humble bookie who
enjoys both reading and writing existential ramblings to escape the monotony of
daily life. Curious about how deep the roots of the Syndicate burrow? Days of
searching yield the following:
From 2009’s “Syndicate: Afterlife”
Denmark
Copenhagen’s
comin’ along! Hmm. I should preface that I am referring to the Danish National
Football Team and not the “Climate Change Treaty”. That accord is not “coming
along” very well at all. If you’re hoping for some sort of multilateral
breakthrough at the Copenhagen Conference in December (that includes you Angie),
you’re dreaming! Kyoto had much more willpower, and cuter waitresses. I’ve been
searching everywhere for the U.S. Position Points for the Copenhagen
Conference, only to discover that there aren’t any. Whoops. This could be
Barack Obama’s worst visit to Copenhagen since…..nevermind. Let’s skip it.
I’m
ordinarily not a fan of the Danes. They ticketed me once for crashing a Lego
Car. On top of that, they want to kill puppies and eat kittens. Okay I made the
part about kittens up. In spite of my preconceived prejudices, I’m getting
motivated for the Danes using two new cheers I just invented:
1)
Ever since a Jeopardy! Clue a couple of weeks ago, I’ve had the song “Da Da Da”
from 1980s German New Wave Band “Trio” stuck in my head. Though the German
Kraftwerk clones disbanded in 1985, a Volkswagen commercial in 1997 revived the
song and elevated the band to cult status. Does anyone remember what I’m
talking about?
“Da Da
Da. Ich lieb dich nicht du liebst mich nicht….uh-uh…da da da” Two guys drive
around in a Volkswagen Golf, pick up a couch from the garbage and then drop it
after determining that it doesn’t smell so good? Anyone? Oh for Christ Sake,
here’s the link:
The
song is virtually impossible to expel from one’s head. Here’s my effort:
“Da Da
Danes….Da Da Danes…….Da Da Danes……Da Da Danes. Ich lieb euch nicht. Ihr liebt
mich nicht…uh-uh….Da Da Danes…..Da
Da Danes…..Da Da Danes”
2)
Gøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøø Danes!!!!
Yes,
like a Druish Prince at Hanukah, I am so overjoyed to have found out how to
make an “ø” on my keyboard. Now all I have left to figure out is this weird
Froggy circumflex. Join me in welcoming the following Danish players:
-Anders
Møller Christenson
-Thomas
Sørenson
-Per
Krøldrup
-Jesper
Grønkjar
-Martin
Jørgenson
-Beøwulf
Obviously,
Beowulf is not coming along. I was watching the animated feature last night,
shocked that my favorite 12th Grade English reading assignment could
be so thoroughly ruined. Even Angelina Jolie couldn’t save that movie!!
Germany
Before
I get to the gloating, I would like to request a moment of silence for our
keeper, Robert Enke. Robert took his own life on Tuesday, throwing himself in
front of a RegionalExpress near Hanover. Details remain sketchy. He was a
professional success with a beautiful young family. It boggles the mind what
would possess someone with so much going for him to voluntarily leave this
earth. Robert, I don't know why you did it. Whatever your reasons, I hope you
found the peace you were looking for. Wir werden sie nicht vergessen!
Herzlichen dank für ihren Beitrag. J
Tragedy
notwithstanding, life must always go on.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
A
heavy national discussion ensued, focused primarily on the topics of clinical
depression and the debilitating pressures of ultra-competitive environments.
That frail and doubting human beings somehow discern a way of navigating the
cruel rat race every day can occasionally be seen as a miracle. There exist no
regular blueprints, no guaranteed tactics, and no consistently effective
strategies to combat what random neuro-chemical cocktail the mind has selected
for you on any given day. Each individual plows through the regular mental
maelstroms with an ephemeral set of methods and gimmicks that work…until they
no longer do. The misleading cliché so often written about Robert and those who
chose his fate was that they lost the battle. However, to attach the
connotations of a fight to the whole process serves to mislead. One has as much
control over one’s mood as the weather above. The objective is never to
forcibly resist, merely to endure. I’m aware that a few simplistic words mean
nothing to those who lie crushed in a compact heap in some shade-drawn little
prison of room, the weight of the world gradually compressing the space into an
ever-tinier cell. The only advice one can dispense is to hang tough and sweat
it out. You will feel better soon. Even if no one can reach you, you will feel
better soon.
You’ll feel better soon, mates. Don’t ignore that crucial
fact. YOU’LL FEEL BETTER SOON!!
Love you guys. The Lines are calling…..
Supreme Champion of the (Dress Rehearsal) Football
Universe-- Spain vs. Brazil
vs. 
One couldn’t have wished for a better matchup, and….ALL BETS ARE ON! I lend little credence to the theory that del Bosque’s crew will find themselves spent after the Italian endurance test. Pique may be hurt. Toress, Xavi, and Iniesta may be unavailable. It matters not. Fabregas, Soldado, and Villa are well-rested and rearing' to go. The “sweaty walrus” did well to save his “A-team” for the final. Jordi Alba’s dip in form doesn’t produce much cause for concern either. Monreal can be deputized as a serviceable replacement. Albiol will undoubtedly earn a starting cap in place of Arbeloa and fresh legs will keep the match competitive.
What does concern me is Ramos’s fatigue level. Moreover, the
ever-fickle and superstitious Casillas will surely have problems rebounding
from his moribund shootout performance. Such weaknesses at the back leave La
Roja prone to a miscue or two. A sliver of opportunity is all Neymar needs.
Hence, Brazil will capture their fourth consecutive Confederations Cup. The
protests will gradually ebb….provided that Rouseff keeps her promises. ; )
THE
LINE: Brazil +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Brazil 3, Spain 0. What a lucrative ass-whopping
and it was all over early on! Your friendly bookie raked home the dough. A huge
day for Fred, who had himself a brace at 48 minutes. He also had the opening
goal inside of two minutes with a tenacious effort he poked in while laying on
the ground.
Hulk chipped in a cross that bounced off Neymar. Fred had
fallen down after colliding with Arvalo Arbeloa and Sergio Ramos, but still had
the presence of mind to kick in the loose ball before Casillas could flop on
it. The full capacity crowd at the historic Maracana went berserk and then
proceeding to will their boys to absolute first half dominance. Oscar, Paulinho,
and Fred peppered Casillas with multiple distance strikes. The only break in
the one-way bombardment came when Iniesta tested Julio Cesar in the 19th
with a paced ball that QPR’s #1 nonchalantly pushed aside.
La Roja showed some life as the first half drew to a
close. Pedro beat the keeper, only to see David Luiz clear his cetain goal off
the line in the 42nd. Neymar answered back two minutes later after
Oscar sprung the offside trap with an awesome short pass. The young phenom took
one steadying touch before launching a left-footed rocket that bulged the top
of the net.
The Samba Kings picked up right where they left off after
the break. Two minutes into the second half, Oscar dished in the direction of
Neymar and Fred. Neymar let it pass, but Fred snapped home from the left
millimeters inside the 18. It just wasn’t Spain’s day. Sergio Ramos took a poor
penalty shot in the 55th that hit the outside of the bar. Del Bosque
had burned all three of his substitutions by the 59th in an effort
to shake things up. To no avail. By the time Gerard Pique was sent off with a
straight red in the 68th this one was already over. The Big Dog had
lead his super squad back to Confed Glory.
Now the real test begins…along with ALL THE FUN!!
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
We’ll meet again. The Syndicate shall return. Now get out of
here….and GO KICK A BALL
WITH A STRANGER!!
