Frohes Wochenende Syndikat Mitglieder,
I great you with some awful German in line with my awful mood as pertains to the officiating. Some very amateurish antics dominate the coverage of Round 3. Chief among them was the “Hamburg Havoc” of earlier today. Because of the unforgivable ineptitude of those asinine Argentines, I will soon be obligated to write still more about the Swiss. Damn it all to hell. How the hell can you quash an offside flag, confer with your linesman, and stick to your decision?!? I’m seething, SEETHING I tell you. I was supposed to be ridding myself of the Swiss, not engaging in deeper study of their team. Verpiss dich havaus! I already wrote your obituary. How DARE you hang around in my country? HOW DARE YOU!?!?
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Ermmm…..yes
I do believe I already noted that it took 24 hours before the rage BEGAN to
subside.
Oh well. Such is football. One can only dwell on insanely
bad calls for so long. Life moves on and we’ve much business to attend to. To
begin with, I’ve been inundated with accusations that my choice not to enclose
oddsmaking stats constitutes some sort of conspiracy to cover up my torpid
performance. To those of you, (you know who you are), to even facetiously
suggest that a man who frequently writes…er… “in the buff” has something to
hide is patently ludicrous!! You are aware that you have all the lines and
results in front of you. Should you have a spare five minutes and some 1st
grade arithmetical skills, you can score me yourself. In half the time it took
you to construct the bloody e-mail you could have had your answer.
My choice to skip over the oddsmaking stats relates solely
to the aesthetic incompatibly of numbers with the popular satirical segment
“Dispatches from the Penthouse.” I reiterate that I have NOTHING TO HIDE. I am
a proud nude typer. I will gladly send a racy photo of myself completely naked
with only a laptop obscuring my genitals to anyone who petitions…and even those
who don’t petition! Hmmm…well…rather than clog up everyone’s spam filter, why
don’t I simply accept the criticism that 48 matches is an unusually long time
to go without published stats? Read em' and weep, boys.
My Updated Stats:
Spread: 30-18
Straight up: 37-4-7
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Hehe.
This little segment of course led to calls for that picture. Truly sorry
everyone. At that time I didn’t own a digital camera. At present I own two.
Something inescapable is coming. Just remember that there are some things in
this world that one cannot “unsee”.
Another tradition I’ve been reprimanded for neglecting is
the “goodbyes”. I’ve been sporadically working on them the entire time, right
up until just now when I had to cut out the Swiss. Next time, Schweizer. LL
I’ll keep her warm for you.
Serbia and Montenegro (32nd Place) 
Wow. That went so astonishingly bad that I think we should
go ahead and dissolve the country. Oh right. The “Serbs” shall return, and I’ll
never have to spell check “Montenegro” again!
Costa Rica (31st Place) 
The following is an excerpt from the ESPN “Tico Fan Blog”.
Evidently the author will soon publish a collection of disparate thoughts under
the heading “Football Poetry”. Here now is a special sneak peak at some of
those thoughts.
“We’ve heard the Western Announcers sing our praises,
We’ve heard them shout our Latin names,
We’ve heard them proclaim our upset,
We’ve heard it thousands of times before kickoff,
We’ve heard it in our minds.”
Wow. That was also astonishingly bad. Then again, I don’t
believe there exists such a thing “good” or even “okay” poetry. Free verse or
rhyme scheme, my response remains the same: “Why are you wasting my time?” Safe
trip back there, mate. Tell those voices in your head I said hello.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Coincidentally,
“Why are you wasting my time?” is my favorite form of professor feedback. Again
I have a uniform response: “Because I’m subsidizing your shitty scholarship,
you talentless fat fuck”
Togo (30th Place) 
By all means come back again sometime. Next time, pay your
players their contractual bonuses, keep your African coach on staff, and try
harder not to impair the spirit of the game.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
I’ve
already written extensively on the tragedies experienced by the Togolese
Football team over the past six years in another note. Suffice to say that I
apologize for appearing to pile on a country that has suffered from a prolonged
hex. The only appropriate emotion when writing about the Togolese Football Team
in present times is one of humble and reverential empathy.
USA (29th Place) 
America……FUCK NO!! Cheer up, Yanks. So you soiled
yourselves. It happens to the best us. Time to head home, immediately throw
your maculated underwear in the trash, and get on with the rest of the day.
Everyone shits their pants sometimes. In this case, there’s no shortage of
besmirched garments you should be delighted to be rid of.
Which grimy discard should we address first? How about
freeing yourselves of the “Bruce Bondage”? A keeper shouldn’t coach your team!
Sure he coached D.C. United to a pair of titles…in the first two seasons of
MLS’s existence. For the love of Christ, the clock used to stop when the ball
went out into touch. You might as well crown him for winning the Southeastern
Montana Coed over 30 Ultimate Frisbee Invitational. Let it go. He brought you
further than you ever dreamed of in 2002, or was that merely a creampuff group
and one bracket win? Prior to this tournament, he brought you all the way up to
#4 in the worldwide FIFA Rankings….which mean absolutely nothing. My country
was ranked #18. So many of you base your bets on the FIFA Rankings, erroneously
thinking they’re determined like late season college football polls. A generous
tip to all of you: It’s just an average guy in Brussels who, like so many
average guys in Brussels, hasn’t a fucking clue what he’s doing.
What other dead weight are we about to cut? Though he cannot
directly be blamed for the six goals you allowed, you should be thankful that
Kasey Keller is hanging em up. One of the reasons you advanced so far in 2002
was that Brad Friedel, as a veteran Premiership player, had been exposed to the
world’s best his entire career. Though Keller had his stint in the Premiership
as well, his skills have certainly atrophied in the German Bundesliga. Sorry to
say it, but Mönchengladbach is not where you want your keeper to be. It should
prove exciting to watch Reading’s Marcus Hahnemman and Man U’s Tim Howard duel
it out over the next few years.
Claudio Reyna happens to be a much better player than this
tournament would indicate…or one might say WAS a better player. Man, does he
look washed up. So does McBride. I don’t see either one of them spending more
than another year in the Premiership and their days with the national team are
numbered. The future looks bright. Dempsey and Covey will continue to develop,
the former poised to be one beast of a player. Beasley, Donovan and Bocanegra
will return with more experience. No, Freddy Adu will not be ready in four
years time. He’s only 15! Other prospects from your U-23 U-20 and U-17 squads
might. Keep an eye out for Samuel Ochoa, Benny Feilhaber, Eddie Gaven, Lee
Nguyen, Omar Gonzalez, and Michael Stevens.
We’ll see you in South Africa, boys. Don’t worry. Owing to
CONCACAF withdrawals, I believe you’ve already qualified. JJ
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
It was
a miserable summer for U.S. Soccer and this early exit threatened to kill off a
large portion of the readership. One can always rely on Americans to lose
interest once they stop hearing their names being called. Even in the dead of
summer, with three of their four major sports leagues on hiatus, I received
plenty of “well, we’re out of it. I’m going to take my ball and go home now”
e-mails from bitter Yanks. The very least I could do was give them a lengthy farewell…gently
reminding them who their players were.
So
much to say regarding this dissection six years on. How about that list of
“Up-and-coming U.S. Stars”? It’s a veritable who’s who of “WHO?” Only Feilhaber
made it to the national team. The rest of those guys, including Freddy Adu,
wallow in obscurity. Okay, I’m being a little unfair to Freddy Adu who has
received multiple call-ups and may yet prove to be a reliable presence. The
fact remains he came nowhere near the savior status we all accorded him back in
2006. He was supposed to be THE Michael Jordan of U.S. Soccer. As it stands now
Maurice Edu, Michael Bradley, Landon Donovan, Daniel Williams, and Brek Shea
keep him off. Barring an injury to one of them, one doesn’t see Klinsi giving
Freddy a ring anytime soon.
I
presciently predicted the evolution of Clint Dempsey into one of the world’s
best players. He’s in the midst of another fantastic season as Fulham’s beating
heart. It’s amusing to read how I thought Bobby Convey would be back. He lasted
another year or so before being dropped. We missed just about everyone else. No
mention of Jozy Altidore, Jonathan Spector, Timmy Chandler, Jay Demerit, Brek
Shea, Ricardo Clark, Jonathan Bornstein, Edson Buddle, Stuart Holden, or Kyle
Beckerman. It just goes to show that truly understanding a national squad takes
far more than a few hours of research JJ I hope at least one U.S.
Soccer fan learned something about their team through the either the original
passage or this update. Some points to raise before moving on begins with the
fact that the U.S. national team is actually an agglomeration of four separate
squads: U-18, U-20, U-23, and the National Squad. The Youth Teams function much
like a minor league farm system.
Different
countries have different configurations and the age limits change from time to
time. In any event, most every country has 2-3 “Developmental Squads”. Players
move between them all the time. A national squad itself will go into each
individual friendly match with 5 to15 different players on the roster,
depending on whom the trainer wishes to give a look. Furthermore, one of the
developmental squads plays in a tournament in almost any given month of any
given year. The aim of all of this info is to emphasize that one can actually
scout the national team practically anytime one wants. No need to wait four
years to learn about your players.
Of
course I won’t judge you if you decide to look up players one week before the
tournament starts. After all, that’s how I handled last summer’s Women’s World
Cup. Nevertheless, we cannot afford the embarrassment of 2010 again, when rabid
U.S. Soccer fans poured into South African stadiums only to be out-chanted by
the infamous “Name three U.S. Players” taunt. Success on the pitch
notwithstanding, the U.S. has a LONG way to go before winning a “Stands
Battle”.
Trinidad and Tobago (28th Place) 
How sad that it’s already time to return to your island
paradise, where you’ll all sip cocktails, blow herb, and engage in exotic sex
for a full six weeks before training camp starts. Yes, I know you’d rather
spend another two weeks sweating your balls off on a German football pitch
while the rest of the world shows you up. Just let it go. Hit up the hammock
and wait for the phone to ring. European player managers are sure to offer you
some overpaid contracts after three matches on the grand stage. Just relax. You
won’t even be drunk before the first calls come in.
Japan (27th Place) 
So ends the Zico experiment; the most misguided choice for a
Samurai Leader since Tom Cruise. Mowed down by the Howitzers, the mighty Blue
Samurai have six months to regroup in time for the Asian Cup. They need a coach
with the “will of the warrior”. Time to tap into the J-League for someone
worthy of the suffix “-san”, whatever the hell it actually means. Time for a
Japanese coach again. It’s been eight doleful years of abject failure. We’ll
surely see most of the crew back in four years time. Quality players. All they
need is a Shinto injection.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
The Japs
hired a Bosnian named Ivicha Osim. He had coached one of the domestic league
teams to great success. I’m glad the Japs didn’t follow my advice as this guy
turned out to be one of the greatest characters the game has ever seen. The
stories are legion. He once went off on a thirty-minute rant disparaging his
player’s performance after a disappointing match. The long profanity-laced
tirade was such an overload on his interpreter that she collapsed in tears,
forcing him to console her. When he narrowly failed to lead Japan to their
third consecutive Asian Cup title, he gave a 30 minute long self-deprecating
speech saying among other things that he had “dropped his pants” and “spanked
[his] players with the wrong belt.” A collection of his Trappatoni-level quotations
sold very well in Japan. In late 2007 he suffered a stroke while watching a
Premiership Game. Reportedly his first words after emerging from weeks in a
coma were “What was the score?” Legend has it he refused to discuss anything
else until someone told him.
Were
it not for his health problems, we would have been treated to oh so much more.
The Japs brought Okada to succeed him. After another early exit in 2010, a Wop
is in charge. When will you learn, Japs? You didn’t win back-to-back World
Baseball Classics with foreign managers?!? Oh, I’m going to write about that
one someday JJ Block me now.
Saudi Arabia (26th Place) 
From dead last to 26th in four years. Not bad,
desert dwellers. Now if you’d be so kind as to never come back. I can't write
about a team of players solely drawn from a league I have zero chance of ever
giving the remotest of shits about. Be gone, vile creatures!
Iran (25th Place) 
On the subject of teams I never wish to write about again,
please stay gone. Having no more vitriolic energy to expend on political
matters, I shall chastise you for your choice of kit manufacturer. Puma? Any
friend of Rudolf is no friend of mine! You better don Adolf’s three stripes if
you want my support!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Hmmm..perhaps
some explanation is in order. Shortly after the war, two German brothers
finally decided they had about all they could stand of one another. Rudolf and
Adolf Dassler had previously been joint owners of a small shoe factory in
Northwest Bavaria. During the war, the slightly older Rudolf had been an ardent
and enthusiastic member of the NAZI Party. Adolf joined too, but mostly out of
necessity. The story goes that as the war drew to a close Adolf turned his
older brother of to the Allies. In any event, whatever happened between the
two, it was so serious that they never reconciled or spoke again. Rudolf
combined the first two letters of his Christian name and the first three of his
family name to form “Ruda”, later renamed “Puma”. Adolf Dassler quickly realized
that having the name “Adolf” in postwar Germany did not exactly help his
business prospects and proceeded to go by his nickname “Adi”. Out of pure spite
for his brother he started his own shoe company, utilizing the same naming
technique “Adidas”.
Irrespective
of the amount of truth in the story, Germans are quite clear in which shoes and
apparel they consider worthy of their postwar pride. Not that one can’t get
away with wearing Puma in Germany, but you’ll eventually be told in no
uncertain terms “Dems NAZI shoes.”. The true German brandishes his or her Three
Stripes as a symbol of the Wirtschaftswunder and a de-Nazified economy. Adidas
has always been and shall forever remain the official outfitter of the German
team. Puma outfits the Italians, the Serbs, the Ukrainians, the Saudis, and
pretty much any other country with no moral conscience. Plenty more to come on
this topic once we get to this summer’s uniforms. Adidas forever! Call me a
wannabe Soccer Prep all you want.
Tunisia (24th Place) 
Christ, can we get out of the Arab-Persian Axis? That’s now
three Islamic Nations in a row! Okay, the Tunisians can come back, but only
because I like Jaziri.
Angola (23rd Place) 
These guys can definitely come back. A homogenous team by no
stretch of the imagination, it was a pleasure to watch the Antelopes. I already
miss Akwa, Jamba, Loco, Andre, Mendonca, Love and Figuerdo. We didn’t even get
to see the guys with the coolest names, the ones I want to name my children
after: Flavio, Lebo Lebo, and Titi Buengo. Note to the Togolese: This is how
it's SUPPOSED to be done. Keep your African coach and play your heart out. A
gutsy and lionhearted debut for our sub-Saharan brothers. They deserve a
standing ovation. Keep it going!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Fuck.
I miss them. Could have used them in 2010, rather than another Pfister-fucked
Cameroon side. They still have an African manager, Luanda born “Lito”. Come on
back for Africa. Come on back for Vicey. J
Croatia (22nd Place) 
I still haven’t a clue what happened. I’ve cannibalized
every article I could find. I’ve gone for a run. I’ve swung by Capitol Grocery.
I’ve actually used the stove in my kitchen to cook for the first time. I’ve
eaten for the first time in days. I’ve disrobed and pondered all three matches
buck-naked. No idea what happened. It makes no sense. I feel like a dazed
accident victim in the back of a speeding ambulance.
“What happened?”
“You were in an accident, sir”.
“Yeah, but what happened?”
“You’re on the way to the hospital”
“Yeah, BUT WHAT HAPPENED?”
I suspect most Croats feel the same way. It’s “Bye-Bye
Blazers”. With half the team retiring, they face an uphill struggle to qualify
for Euro 2008.
Poland (21st Place) 
Well, we know what happened here. You got the wind knocked
out of you by a bunch of Krauts. It wasn’t the first and won’t be the last
time. Even more debilitating, a bunch of drunken Poles got the shit kicked out
them by German fans that took umbrage at their fearless taunts. With respect to
hooliganism, when will we ever learn that drinking more cannot recapture the
euphoria of ten minutes after downing your first drink? That’s it. You can
drink slowly to sustain your buzz, but doubling your intake will do nothing but
make you bitter and belligerent. Shame on both the German and Polish fans for
introducing violence into our unity festival. I personally could do without a
rematch. Let’s see if I can come up with a parallel for my local readers.
Eureka. Germany vs. Poland is essentially the same thing as LSU vs. UL-Lafayette.
It’s a merciless riot-inducing slaughter that shouldn’t mean as much as it
does. Good luck, post Janas my friends. Oh by the way, send over your budding
superstars. We’re running a little low on Polish talent over here.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
The
Poles rebounded impressively, qualifying for their first-ever European
tournament two years later. Naturally, they drew the Germans again…and more
people got beer bottles needlessly smashed over their skulls.
Czech Republic (20th Place) 
Firing Brückner would be a huge mistake. For fuck’s sake it
wasn’t his fault that he was
dealt a hand of FIVE injured strikers. It’s been quite the
derailed rollercoaster for Czech fans. I thus feel I owe you some discussion of
your team’s future prospects.
The ledger of soon-to-be retired players is disturbing.
Galasek, Pobrovsky, Koller, Nedved, and Lokvenc are all questionable to return.
Rotten luck to have them bow out on this note. The good news is Grygera,
Barros, Plaisil, Ujfalusi, and Peter Cech should return even better. Lord knows
who’s fermenting on your youth squads. I can’t be bothered to look it up.
Bottom line: Why not take solace in the six consecutive IIHF World Hockey
championships you won from 1993 to 2001. Sure you were upset this year, but why
should anyone have sympathy for you? Well see you in 2008. Just chill
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Ohh…the
IIHF World Hockey Championships. Something else I’d love to write about
someday. Look, is it asking too much that someone employ me to continuously
travel around the world writing gambling columns on international sporting
tournaments? It is? Okay. How about if I receive no salary, just travel
expenses? Okay, okay. I’ve got the message. How about if I get down on my knees
and satisfy you orally? What? It was worth a try.
Cote d’Ivoire (19th Place) 
Not at all happy about letting this team go. Something tells
me we’ll see them again, hopefully this time outside of the “Group of Death.”
Drogba is young yet. The very same applies to Dindane, Kalou, Keita, the two
Kones, the two Toures, and Eboue. They’ll need a better coach. Henri Michel has
now failed with France, Cameroon, Morocco, the UAE, Tunisia, AND the Ivory
Coast. Someone must stop these Africans from thinking they’re gaining a coup
when they hire failed managers. Stop it already. Hire one of your own!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Michel
went on to fail with Morocco again, four separate African club teams, and
Equatorial Guinea. The incredulously stupid Ivorian football federation hired
Sven Goran-Eriksson for 2010, when they were unfortunately once again placed in
the “Group of Death”. Finally they’re in the hands of native, Francois Zahoui.
Will they qualify again? Eh. I doubt it.
Paraguay (18th Place) 
Farewell, Albirroja! We shall meet again in four years time.
Hopefully I will have thought about something not involving Guarani to say
about you by that time.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
God
bless Fernando Lugo. Bless you, my son. Thank you for fathering two children
while you were a Priest. You gave me something to talk about…a little mystery
to figure out.
South Korea (17th Place) 
This is not happening. I am not writing these words. These
aren’t the droids you’re looking for. You don’t want to sell me death sticks.
It’s not that I’m going to miss Schwanz Befürworter. I give no shit about
retiring defender Jin Cheul-soi. I want my Korean girls! Waaaaaah. Give me back
my Korean girls! You can’t take away my Korean girls. Damn you, Swiss. I’ll
have my revenge. This is all your fault. Everything is your fault. Helvetian
Font is YOUR fault. Foul smelling cheese is YOUR fault. Expensive European
vacations, all YOUR fucking fault! Bruno Ganz is YOUR fault. You gave us the
modern Swiss Hitler. Fuck your little tax haven. You provide security to all
manner of dictators. If that wasn’t enough, you decided to screw with MY
Koreans. One day I shall invade. I don’t believe your bullshit about Hitler
decided Switzerland wasn’t worth it because the army was too strong.
Switzerland wasn’t worth it because practically everyone in the fucking party
had impressionistic art stashed in a Geneva vault. I’ll never forget this. You
killed the Red Devils of Asia. I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!!!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Ermmm…..yes
I do believe I already noted that it took 24 hours before the rage BEGAN to
subside. Sure as shootin' Old Schwanz Befürworter popped up again, first for
Belgium and now for Russia. The Taeguk Warriors made it to South Africa in 2010
for another meltdown. What a shame that I don’t cover the Asian Cup, where they
always make it to the Semi Finals. Wait a second…hey don’t go just yet! Look,
maybe oral satisfaction isn’t your thing. How about manual labor? I’ll clean
your house…HEY…please don’t go. I’ll sprinkle rose pedals around you as you sip
your morning coffee! Turn around I beg you! I’ll pick cotton! I don’t have a
womb, but I can find you one….PLEASE!!
And there’s one more matter to attend to before we get to
the lines:
Dispatches from the Penthouse (Fit the 5th)
Petrochemical haze makes for overwhelmingly beautiful
sunsets. There are those who might suggest that living across from an oil
refinery might be hazardous to your health. This pack-a-day smoker thinks
hazards to his health can take a long walk off a short cliff. Have you ever
witnessed a sunset with green tinges? The entire spectrums of ultraviolet red
hues are present. Burgundy, Chestnut, Magenta, Maroon, Brick, Copper, Salmon,
Vermillion, Geranium, Rubicund, Crimson, and Cardinal. I’m halfway through a
Crayola Ultra-box and not anywhere close to halfway describing the innermost
colors of this sunset. Radiating outwards from the spherical ball of
incandescent gas one crosses an all-encapsulating symmetrical nimbus of green,
emerald, almost azure aureoles. Viewed from an acute angle, the colors take on
a more amaranthine complexion. Tilt your eyes further downward for a tangerine
dream. For those who believe I’ve been sparking, I assure you that is not the
case. For those who are certain that I’ve ingested mushrooms, I admonish you
that the season is not until next month. All I’m doing is sitting at a poolside
table doing what I love, observing a South Louisiana sunset. I haven’t even
cracked open a beer yet.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Wow.
That was astonishingly bad AND oddly creepy. I also happen to think it was
strangely beautiful. Steve Jobs once recalled how a wheat field played Bach for
him. Is anyone on his case?
Saturday
Deutschland vs. Sweden
vs. 
vs.
Ill-at-ease? Wouldn’t put it quite that strongly. On-edge?
Perhaps a tad. The better team is no point of contention. For that matter,
neither is the better country. What remains slightly bothersome is Klinsi’s
repeated insistence that the Jungs operate on the “120 minute fitness level.”
When someone makes a point of emphasizing a bold claim, chances are there’s
some dishonesty involved. The Jungs must be tiring out by now. Only Metzelder
received a full day off.
Far be it from me to suggest the Krauts are hiding
something. Let’s dive into the numbers to see if he makes a valid point. Lahm
and Mertesacker have played the full 270. No big deal. Those two have barely
passed puberty. They can still drink all afternoon and wake up without a
hangover. Achh..you kids and your music. The older Friedrich clocks in at 244.
Cause enough for optimism. Klose’s down at 235. That’ll work. Schneider at 253,
Schweine at 257, Frings at 246. Hmmm..Well I’ll be damned. He’s done a very apt
job with fitness management. Additionally, our players are significantly
younger. We’ll run circles around these plodding Swedes!
The Swedes finally put together something worth writing
about with two goals last match. Alexandersson found his groove to reclaim his
spot. Jonson, Larsson, and Allbäck function well as an attacking unit. With
Ibrahimovic’s return, however, Allbäck will likely be the odd man out. He has
proven he can more of an explosive terror of the bench anyway. No shortage of
firepower for Lägerbeck. A few short days ago I wrote that this team was
“limping and confused”. Now that Ljunberg, Alexandersson, and Kallstrom have
solidified the starting eleven and appear to be playing well together, they are
legitimately dangerous. We may well see a hard-fought 120 minutes. Fretful?
Eh..to a minute extent.
THE
LINE: Deutschland +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Germany 2, Sweden 0. The Swedes came out in droves to the Allianz in München.
My most striking memory of this match was the seas of yellow strewn about the
stands. More appallingly lousy officiating in this one, but a fair result
prevailed. Klose crossed the line in the 4th and Isaakson charged
out to meet him. Clever Klose executed one final dribbling maneuver to pull the
ball away from Isaakson’s grasp before he was tripped up. Podolski lurked
behind to pick up the pieces. 1-0 Fatherland. It was to be Podolski’s coming
out party. Lägerbeck had obviously spent entirely too much time working with
his back four on the obvious threat. Klose set up Podolski again a scant eight
minutes later. Drawing triple coverage just inside the 18, he again alertly
drew all three defenders to the left before shoveling to a wide-open Podolski
on the right. Isaakson stood no chance.
It
would have been nice to see the Germans continue their dominant run, but the
ref decided he would own the match instead. He bought a few ridiculous
simulated injuries from players on both sides and out came the cards. Frings
and Lucic were the first ones to enter the book. Lucic got sent off on double
yellows for the most innocent of tugs on Klose’s sleeve in the 35th.
The Swedes were later awarded a penalty for a nothing Neuville Shove that
Larsson shot over the bar. Plenty of tears from the amber-clad audience. It
just wasn’t their day.
Argentina vs. Mexico
vs. 
vs.
Four years ago I predicted the “La Albiceleste” would recapture
the former glory of the 1978 and 1986 Championship Teams. Though that side
didn’t even make it past the group stages, this gang is strong enough to muscle
their way to gold, return home in time to kick the Brits out of the Falklands,
and conquer the South Shetlands after marching across the Drake Passage on
foot. They’re that good. Jesus after snorting amphetamines.
All the big guns will be back on the pitch. Sorin, Crespo,
Saviola, and Heinze were the recipients of a welcome rest cure. Should their
absence lead to reduced touch, Tevez, Milito, and “the kid” stand ready to
relieve. Lavolpe gets Borghetti back at long last, but must do without
Francisco Rodriguez, Luis Perez, and the still injured Guillermo Franco. After
an ebullient opener, striker Omar Bravo has decidedly cooled and may be left
off.
It looks to be a bad day for Lavolope against his home
county. He’ll be back in Buenos Aires in time to re-touch his highlights. This
will be the worst Mexican Mariachi Routine since “The Naked Gun 2/12”. Adios
Amigos.
THE
LINE: Argentina +2 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Argentina 2, Mexico 1. (a.e.t 120) Things began promising enough for the
wetbacks. In the 6th minute, the ever-exciting Pavel Pardo sliced in
a beautiful free kick clinically headed on by Mario Mendez straight the boot of
Javier Marquez. The Mexican lead lasted all of four minutes. Riquelme delivered
a corner straight to the battling duo of Herman Crespo and Jared Borghetti. In
a flailing attempt to keep the service from reaching Crespo’s outstretched leg,
Borghetti’s first significant play since returning from an injury sustained in
the first match was to head the ball into his own net. Things settled down
thereafter with Borghetti and Saviola swapping near misses before the 90-minute
march. An extra half hour would be required to separate these two teams, but in
reality it was over after Maxi Rodriguez scored THE “Goal of the tournament” in
the 98th. Maxi chested down a Mascherano switch and fired first time
off the volley for a dazzling 35-yard half-moon effort that curved elegantly
into the top left corner. “La Fuerta! Maxi, Maxi, Maxi, Maxi, Maxi
Rrrrrrrrrooodriguez “ One day someone will repeat my first name five times for
effect.
Sunday
England vs. Ecuador
vs. 
vs.
Not much standing in the way of my right honorable friends
and the quarterfinals. Yes, the Michael Owen injury is a tremendous blow and
Rooney looks he should be playing for the Paralympics team. There remains
enough talent to get this squad past lowly Ecuador. A goal can come from so
many different sources. Lampard, Gerrard, Joe Cole, or even Ferdinand or Terry.
Sven has learned the hard way that Rooney and Crouch cannot share striking
duties. Both are authoritative players with distinctly different styles and
physicality. Does this mean we’ll see Arsenal’s new phenom and future
Billion-Dollar-Brother Theo Walcott? I wish. I’ve been dying to watch this kid
in action since Arsenal made him the highest paid seventeen-year-old in
history. Not ready yet.
This doesn’t mean that a fresh face won’t have a chance to
make history. If Sven sticks with one forward, he’ll have to call upon Aaron
Lennon, Michael Carrick, Jermaine Jenas, or Steward Downing to augment the
midfield. One of these Tottenham Tots will play for a fat new contract. English
deficiencies combined with Ecuadorian trainer Luis Fernando Suarez’s perplexing
decision to rest his two top strikers and captain against the Germans will make
this match competitive, possibly even boring. In any event, three Lions trumps
three colors.
THE
LINE: England +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
England 1, Ecuador 0. Sven tapped Michael Carrick on the shoulder and his
worthy answer to call saw Man U ink his overrated ass to a five-year contract.
Downing, Jenas, and Lennon all stayed put. Any exposure on this level is
practically guaranteed to move one into a bigger house. The fixture itself
turned out to be the midfield malaise I foresaw. Carlos Tenorio and other
future overpaid Man U footballer Antonino Valencia wasted golden opportunities
in front of goal in a game decided by a “Beckham Specialty”. One cannot watch
how Beckham used to ingeniously curl a free kick that sailed over the wall and
neatly tucked itself inside the goal post without wishing that one could go
back in time and urge him never to go to the States. Christ, he used to be so
amazing and surely had a couple of good years left.
Portugal vs. Netherlands
vs. 
vs.
To paraphrase that great modern Philosopher Homer Simpson,
we’ve got a game certain to get rid of the unpleasant aftertaste of Church.
It’s our first titanic clash of the knockout stages. Purple vs. Orange in the
battle of ugly colors that don’t rhyme with anything.
Van Basten has used every player except for striker Jan
Vennegoor of Hesselnick. Yes, that’s the man’s name. His wildly eccentric
lineup selections have made him look quite sagacious up to this point, but it
will all be for naught if he picks wrong here. It all begins up front, where
we’ll want to see Robben, van Persie, and van Nistelroy. The trio behind them
should be Cocu, Sneijder, and van Bommel. Mathijsen, van Brockhorst, Boularhoz,
and Heitinga are the ideal back four. You’re welcome, Marco. Putting together
that lineup cost me a half hour of my meaningless life!
For the Navigators it all comes down to execution. Simao,
Christiano Ronaldo and Luis Figo will score if Costinha, Maniche, and Pauletta
generate enough forward momentum. Ronaldo may be the most dynamite set piece
master the game has ever seen. I think that’s about enough from me. Expect a
classic here. Do not miss what will be one for the ages.
THE
LINE: Portugal +1 Goal
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Portugal 1, Netherlands 0. It entered the record books for all the wrong
reasons. Russian referee Valentin Ivanov issued 16 yellow and four red cards.
Twenty bookings shattered the previous record. After the sloppy, sordid mess
was over, Sepp Blatter suggested Ivanov should have cared himself. Yuck. Before
getting into all of that, we’ll rake Marco van Basten over the coals a bit for
not following my advice. He started Ooijer in place of Heitinga, and, more
surprisingly Kuyt in place of van Nistelroy. Kuyt sent four balls in that
Ricardo had no trouble catching and Van Persie bobbed-and-weaved his way to two
quality chances. Nevertheless, the Dutch lacked the crucial finishing touch all
game, albeit in a game that one could hardly say anyone deserved to win.
Three
controversial bookings preceding Maniche’s goal in the 23rd. The
well-worked tally began with a Ronaldo/Deco give-and-go that freed up Luis
Figo, who cut it back for Maniche. Before the half was over Costinha had been
expelled for a non-malicious tackle and a handball. Bouhlarouz was next after
two challenges that were hardly even worthy of a talking to. Sensing that the
game was slipping out of the official’s control, an insane amount of dives
followed. Four more bookings in four minutes before Deco was finally punished
for the massive simulation fest. By the time the game drew to a close, the
level of frustration was so high that Rafael Van der Vaart was suplexing Miguel
and Petit was wrapping up Robben American Football style. Ugly, ugly stuff. It
would have made for a good Ice Hockey match.
