My syndicate brothers,
Another Summer of Revival and Rebirth arrives at its culmination. As a committed Atheist I must admit, much to my chagrin, that the events of the past four weeks oblige me to proclaim faith in two separate sets of Deities. It appears that we must accept the existence of the order of Mount Olympus. No other explanation suffices to explain how in the hell the Hellenes (80-1 odds prior to the tournament) are now one valiant miracle away from capturing the only continental title that matters.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
I
would like to qualify that statement by saying that I now find the African Cup
of Nations eminently entertaining. Africa is the only continent that holds a
meaningful annual tournament, and it’s always a showdown between an unlikely
Cinderella and an established power. This year Zambia astonishingly knocked off
Cote d’Ivoire. The whole Endspiel was so gripping that my Internet connection
gave out no fewer than fourteen times. Cote d’Ivoire, Ghana, and Cameroon had
previously fallen to the mighty three-peat Egyptian champions. Thanks to the
Arab Spring, the Northern African football programs are all in disarray. This
means we can all look forward to a few years of truly competitive African
Football….maybe even a lighthearted Sportsbook courtesy of your friendly bookie
JJ Before embarking on such an
endeavor, I still must figure out what is consistently funny about Africa. You
have my word that I’m on it J That being said, I insist upon
laying down the law. Ahem. Africa and Europe provide the only worthwhile
regional tournaments. Fuck your insipid CONCACAF Gold Cup. What shit could I
possibly give about a tournament that will perpetually come down to Mexico vs.
The U.S. Juniors? The Copa America never fails to escape my interest. The Asia
Cup and the OFC Nations Cup put me straight to sleep. Viva Afrika! Viva
Europa!
In addition, I profess unequivocal conviction in the
blessings of an eccentric group of pseudo-intellectuals known as “The
Syndicate” “Summer’s gone, A Summer Song. I look at you and then I’m gone.” At
I think those were the lyrics. The best I can do from hazy memories of being a
flannel-shirt-clad young lad who foolishly thought that there was such a thing
as an “Alternative Revolution”. I’ll miss all of you. I’ll think of all of you.
I might even fantasize about the three female ones that came close enough to
giving a shit about football that you wrote me. Great to hear from you, Ladies.
J
How about we engage in some wagers in subsequent times?
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Hahahaha.
The infamous trio included two ex-girlfriends and one soon to be ex-girlfriend.
In keeping with the essential spirit of respect, I shall not identify anyone
beyond those with whom I’m so close that they should have seen it coming. “The
Three” do, however, do justifiably deserve a smile and a wink. You were and
surely continue to be very nice girls. No hard feelings on this side. It wasn’t
your fault that your boyfriend was hopelessly crestfallen over some
below-average expendable mare. There we are. Before getting into any more
trouble, let’s expend some words on Vicey’s wretched pursuit of a proportionate
soundtrack for his schmaltzy farewells. The preceding words were written to Jan
Garbarek’s “Twelve Moons”, spinning interminably on the old trusted JVC
“Multi-Bass Horn”. Back in 2008, the Economist devoted an entire holiday double
issue to the reasons we love music. Bottom line? The notes stimulate certain
unreachable dormant neural networks that would otherwise be inaccessible. Your
mind contains over 300 Octillion separate neurons. To put that in perspective,
that’s roughly the amount of grains of sand on earth or number of stars in the
universe. Moreover, there’s very little you can do short of drinking yourself
into a coma or snorting cocaine five times a day for fifteen years to kill them
off. Merely because their not readily accessible doesn’t mean that you cannot
gain passage through the proper stimuli. Music happens to be one of hundreds of
thousands of incentives for you to infiltrate the dark recesses of your mind;
the hitherto quartered offed and insurmountable barriers. I earnestly hope you
allow your own personal melodies endow you with the license of penetrating your
own impervious barriers. Now we’ll progress to the Top Ten songs that inspire
me to write a proficient “Goodbyes Section”:
10)
“Wake me up when September Ends” –Green Day
9) “My
son” –Nubou Uematsu
8)
“Dreamlover” –Faye Wong
7)
“You’ll Never Walk Alone” –Die Tote Hosen
6)
“X-mas card from a Hooker in Minneapolis” –Tom Waits
5)
“The Blood of Eden” –Peter Gabriel
4)
“Ask me Now” –Thelonius Monk
3)
“With God on our Side” –The Neville Brothers
2) “Soledad” –Pharaoh Sanders
1) “Parce Mine Dominihe” –Jan Garbarek and
the Hilliard Ensemble
Thankfully
a man named David Letterman popularized the Top Ten List. I, like every last
one of you, would have been elated to present my Top 100 list. The former
roommates even knew how to put a decent sound together. All of us have the
inherent ability to compose a symphony, be it through words, notes, cadence, or
what might otherwise be construed as prosaic work. Don’t get me wrong. I find
indistinct paint splotches to be as trite as the next man. One simply has to
believe that every last creature has something majestic to bequeath us all
with…..a typical feeling when one is listening to Pharaoh Sanders. JJ
Ideally all of this obsequious talk will compensate for my
decision to close the final match to all bets. Apologies, mates. The Euros have
no third place playoff. The Czechs automatically collect the bronze by virtue
of goal differential. Though the lack of redemptive prospects for the Czechs,
Dutch, and much cherished syndicate members saddens me, I feel we should all
enjoy the dramatic conclusion together, free from any fiduciary philandering.
So without any further ado, allow me to communicate why this final shapes up to
be a historic battle royale.
Supreme Champion of the European Football
Universe—Portugal vs. Greece
vs. 
We end where we began. These two teams kicked off a tournament full of surprises with a shocking Cinderella upset over the highly favored hosts. The Navigators battled through their early adversity to win a rematch with a team that no prognosticator thought would even win a group stage game. I myself have incorrectly handicapped the Greeks in all six of their matches, picking them to lose five times and win once. Were I an actual Sports Journalist, the entire country of Portugal would surely be begging me to pick the Greeks. I sincerely doubt any other odds maker has been so consistently wrong about this team. My Final Stats:
Spread: 18-12
Straight up: 19-6-5
Sigh. Those these
figures are among my best ever, imagine how dominant I could have been had I
not been 0-5 with respect to the Greeks? Actually all one has to do is some
simple arithmetic. On paper the Portuguese attacking options should make them
2-3 goal favorites, just as they were in the opening match. The Greeks are not
only undermanned, they’ll be without Inter’s Giorgios Karagounis. Of course
I’ve been saying this all tournament. The entire globe expects Christiano
Ronaldo, Pauellta, Figo, and Deco to prevail on their home turf. How can they
possibly dishonor themselves against a meek opposition with proven weaknesses?
I see a way. The Greek back four are miserly little
obstructionists. They’ve blanked both the French and the Czechs by inserting
themselves into the path of nearly every ball. Finesse teams have been
constantly frustrated by their inability to string together more than three
passes without encountering an obstinate Hellenic obstructionist. Fyssas,
Setararis, and Kapsis appear to form some sort of triangulation defense that
intercepts everything aside from pure flank prowess. In Ice Hockey parlance,
this would be termed a “Neutral Zone Trap”. I do not purport to whether
Rehhagel will be able to sustain his model or Scolari has a plan to exploit it.
All I can say for certain is that chances are always at a premium during a
Finals match. Either team can eke out a 1-0 victory on a controversial spot
kick or corner. We’re there money involved, I’d have no qualms about making
this a pick. I do not foresee the Portuguese offense catching fire in what will
be a closely contested trench fight. I do think, however, that they just barely
manage to avenge their previous abasement. The Greek pattern thus far has been
W-W-L-W-W-? I say the trend continues. Portugal’s the pick. Enjoy the match.
Enjoy the next two years. See you in the Fatherland for WM 2006!!
THE LINE: Portugal +1 goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Greece 1, Portugal 0. Hmmmm…for those of you keeping track, that’s….fuck it you
get the idea. How many times can one person make the same mistake? As you can
see, some stubbornly endure to do so until the very end. Re-reading this
passage brings raises memories of how I toyed with the idea of picking Greece.
It’s plainly apparent that I even made an effort to talk myself into it. If my
father were present he would without hesitation launch into his “You’ve once
again weighed the evidence correctly and made the wrong decision.” Man, I can
really hate that man sometimes! Why must he have such a valid point?
Persistent
defending, timely substitutions, and the insanely recurrent curse of
injuries/crossbars that afflicted Greek opponents led to the biggest upset in
tournament history. To this one might add “The Curse of the Amateur Bookie.”
There was much clamoring for bets on Greece after I made my pick. Thankfully I
was equally stubborn in insisting the match was off the table.
Miguel
and Figo produced the best opportunities in the first half the former forcing
Nikopolidis into a fingertip save. Insofar as I recall, Christiano Ronaldo
didn’t even manage a touch. Fullback Miguel limped off with a knee shortly
before halftime, depriving the Navigators of the only player who had
successfully pervaded a stolid Greek defense.
As
predicted, chances were at a premium. While the Navigators had only secured two
chances on target during the first half, the Greeks had none. They earned their
first corner ten minutes after the restart. Basinas and Charisteas combined to
make it count. Basinas had been subbed out comparatively early against the
Czechs and was rumored to be jealous of Tsiartas’s heroics in that game. After
spending days perfecting his delivery, he served up a perfectly curled ball
that dipped right into Charisteas well-timed leap. Scolari immediately sprang
into action, bringing in Rui Costa and Nuno Gomez. It would be to no avail. The
Navigators did not produce a memorable effort until Caravlho forced a touch
from the keeper in the 81st minute. Fyssas, Setararis, and Kapsis
stood tall until the very last moment, deflecting desperate dying efforts from
Ronaldo and Figo safely out of harms way. The whistle blew and the Navigators
had blown it with hardly a whimper. A mere eight years ago, the Greeks were the
beasts of Europe. It’s been downhill for them ever since.
