Introduction—“Diner and Drinkers Delight”(Spain, Italy, Republic of Ireland, Croatia)
Not this time. Presenting a sixteen-part photo Album series
entitled:
“The Flask Files: Beautiful Snapshots from the Beautiful
Game”
In a little over nine days time, in addition to viewing
pictures of what someone you had a Geology Lab with ten years ago had for
lunch, Facebook users will be treated to colorful documentation of what is
easily the greatest aspect of these tournaments: The Fans. Oh yes sir. The
flags, the jerseys, the passion, the face-paint, the songs….the hot girls
everything we love about a true international festival. In order to bring you
the most comprehensive dispatches from field, Vicey must don the journalist’s
hat. Yes, it’s been hard work scouting venues for the most authentic fans from
all sixteen countries. It will be an even tougher assignment getting drunk with
all of these fanatics whilst we cheer on their country. I’m telling you. How
unselfish of me to assume such a grinding endeavor, struggling as I invest my
blood, sweat, tears, and whatever remains of my liver. Tough job, but someone’s
gotta do it.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Much
to my personal chagrin, this inspired gem of a concept never materialized.
Another tournament came and went. Along the way, yet another golden opportunity
to upgrade the optics of The Syndicate went un-utilized. Attempt to understand:
It’s not as if I harbor some moral objection to transforming the Syndicate into
a catchier, more interactive, multimedia presentation. It’s merely that this
remains a “One-Man-Show”. This particular “One Man” happens to have shit to do,
bills to pay, and finds himself especially eager to sit back and enjoy a game
after spending the entire day hunched over a computer monitor furiously
scouring for instances of the dreaded passive voice to eliminate.
Sorry.
It just proved more fun to order another beer, swap some quips with some other
cheerfully inebriated individuals, and…well…godammit…ENJOY MYSELF? What the
hell is wrong with that? I was already charged with keeping track of dozens of
wagers, keeping track of all the hot girls in the stands, prepping the nightly
recap, and readying the next round’s analysis. Forcing myself to ask strangers
whom I had only recently had the privilege of meeting if they would take a
photograph with me proved too much. I reiterate that it’s a bloody
“One-Man-Show”. Your typical “Man” prefers to watch sporting events drunk,
pants-less, and horizontal. I consider myself a heroic exemplar for watching
sports and thinking at all. Deal with it.
I have nothing but positive things to say about literally
every international fan base that I’ve hung out with. Whether it was cracking
open the Vodka at 10 a.m. on the day of the Klitschko fight with a bunch of
Ukrainian construction workers, downing coffee-schnapps cannonballs with a
group of unemployed Turks, or chain-smoking Gauloises with some very dirty
French whores content to sit on my lap I haven’t had a bad time yet. You may
think of drinking and mingling would have led to my involvement in at least one
Soccer Riot, but that’s not at all the case. You’d be surprised how easily you
can avoid all that by just using your head. A very simple strategy can help you
deal with those belligerent drunks: walk away and get on with your life.
Whether you’re being accosted in Amsterdam or happen to be the only white guy
who dared walk through a Dar-es-Salaam slum in over decade, just walk away from
danger. Keep your fists in your pockets and maintain a positive gait. 99.99999%
of the time, you win. Never scared!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Such
observations led to assessments of fans from all 16 participating nations; a
comprehensive project one Syndicate Member sardonically christened “Vicey’s
Safe Guide to International Drinking”. On a more metaphysical note, I wish to
encourage all sentient human beings who have made it this far down a drab
collection of often incomprehensibly exhausting green script to make the most
of their limited time on this planet.
HANG
OUT WITH AS MANY INTERNATIONALS AS YOU CAN!
Life
remains so appallingly short, it’s nothing short of a travesty that most of us
waste so much of it worrying what Sondra down the hall thinks of our recent
performance at the office. Fuck Sondra! This is how we were meant to spend our
precious time? Why do we do this to ourselves? We bitch and moan constantly
about those with which we share far too much in common whilst the world brims
with people who are refreshingly different enough to help us forget whatever
the fuck it was that we wanted to bitch and moan about. Only novelty makes life
worth living. Meeting a new person leads to new ideas. Reading different kinds
of books yields different kinds of perspective. Travel broadens the mind.
Finally, and forgive me if this alpha-male attitude leads women to lock
themselves in the bathroom: different partners are important too.
There’s
nothing more debilitating than doing the same thing over, and over, and over
again. Practice may make perfect, but it also makes for dull. This isn’t to say
that one shouldn’t engage in repetition in pursuit of a career, a happy
marriage, or a generally more stable life. All I wish to convey is:
HANG
OUT WITH AS MANY INTERNATIONALS AS YOU CAN!
Also.
Smile at your cashier, food server, sales associate, paperboy, valet parking
attendant, mail deliverer, pool boy taxi driver, gardener, and maid. Smile at
them. It will make their day. Repetition happens to be their life. If you’re
looking for someone to spit on and demean, start with your professor.
HANG
OUT WITH AS MANY INTERNATIONALS AS YOU CAN!
As much as I eagerly look forward to hanging with ALL of the
fan bases, this group packs quite a punch. Four of the coolest type of people
you’ll ever meet. I can barely sit still or keep a consistent train of thought
out of sheer giddiness. Time to get psyched with some brief vignettes of what
these crews bring.
Spanish Fans
Don’t let the Javier Bardem types mislead you, the Spaniards love to share a laugh more than anyone else. Actually, with youth unemployment topping forty percent and over a quarter of PhDs (!!) on the dole, they’ve perfected the art of laughter to keep themselves from crying. They’ll have even the dourest faced Kraut cackling uncontrollably within an hour. By the end of the night, they’ll even have him dancing comically bad. The Spanish fans have it all. They can sing. They can dance. They can even fit in dinner somewhere around midnight. Through the magic of Tapas, you can ingest something to sop up the booze whenever the mood strikes. This comes as a great relief to Germans who have to tolerate a strict meal schedule taped to their refrigerator. One can dance seductively with the chicas until the sun comes ups. Not only will a very small portion of them slap you if you happened to have misinterpreted those inviting eyes, many will take the initiative themselves. Only a Spanish girl will walk straight over to a stranger’s table and pull him onto the dance floor. I’m not kidding. This actually happens. Vamos!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Keep
it going, Chicas. Blow me kisses anytime you like.
Italian Fans
Don’t count on Italian women coming to you. They expect you to work for it. They’ll sit there in corner does nothing butting looking gorgeous for hours, not moving a muscle until you go pick them up. Furthermore, they reserve the right to slap you even if they like you. It’s practically a complement. For all the pomp and Machismo, the wops are still a lively posse to hang with. Share an animated discussion on most any topic. You’ll never guess what a vigorously passionate debate you can have on the subject of type fonts. Italians are always up for a pub game, and you’ll rarely meet one that doesn’t play a mean game of Table tennis, pool, foosball, or darts. One works up one helluva sweat when playing a wop at Ping Pong. Dancing as you swing the bat is mandatory. Hopefully you’ll end up making a new friend who lives in a gorgeous county where the sun always shines, the wine always flows, the food always delights, and the women tend to always be in the 7.9-10 range. Then you can show up at his/her place to crash for a few nights in much the same way that people in BR shamelessly exploit their NOLA friends. After traveling to this Mediterranean paradise, the dominant question remains, “When might I return?” No can resist. Not even Amanda Knox. Mark my words. She’ll be back.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
I love
ya Wops! Amanda…I love you too. Having skimmed through the long-awaited memoir
“Waiting to be Heard”, I’ve learned that Amanda Knox found comfort in prison
through the works of Douglas Adams. Baby, you can play a fatal sex game with me
anytime.
Irish Fans
Do I even have to spell it out for you? The grave challenge I and millions of Micks will face on the day of the match will be not passing out before kickoff. Germans love a good Irish pub. You won’t have to walk far in even the smallest hamlets to find one. Once inside you’ll find a bunch of beer-bellied older German men with names like Fritz and Helmut downing pints of Guinness while they tear-up at the acoustic performance of “Country Roads”. That in itself may sound a mite depressing, but bear in mind that you’ll invariably meet at least three hot Irish ex-pat waitresses. Chat them up and you’ll find yourself involuntarily murmuring in deep brogue. Oh it’s been too long since I watched a meaningful match with the Irish. Shit, it’s been TEN years; the last time they even qualified for one of these tournaments. I’m rarin’ to go. I’ve been studying up on my icebreakers. Oh yes. Fine Gael defeats Fianna Fail. Do you know what a Taoiseach is? What about a Tanaiste? I know way too much about them both, though I still can’t pronounce either one. Sounds like a workable pickup line to me. Looks like I’ll have to wrap myself in the larger leather jacket, as I’ll have TWO flasks to sneak in this time. Jameson’s for Catholics. Bushmills for Protestants. Be prepared.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
“Once
inside you’ll find a bunch of beer-bellied older German men with names like
Fritz and Helmut downing pints of Guinness while they tear-up at the acoustic
performance of ‘Country Roads’ “. You think I’m exaggerating? Think whatever
you wish. “Bear in mind that you’ll invariably meet at least three hot Irish
ex-pat waitresses. Chat them up and you’ll find yourself involuntary murmuring
in deep brogue.” Think I made that up for comedic effect? Again, think whatever
you wish. “Looks like I’ll have to wrap myself in the larger leather jacket, as
I’ll have TWO flasks to sneak in this time. Jameson’s for Catholics. Bushmills
for Protestants. Be prepared.” You think I lacked the cajones to carry that
out, don’t you? I don’t give a shit what you think. It was a wild evening.
Croat Fans
It should come as a surprise to no one that Blazer fans like to light things on fire. The torch of choice for the Beavi of Europe remains a protracted road flare, though some of the tamer ones will settle for cigarette lighters, candles, or smartphone apps. Put another way, some are violent, others are romantics. There doesn’t seem to be much of a middle ground. Ideally one wants to locate an intimate, moodily lit little hovel that serves wine rather than beer. I once watched a qualifying match in such a place in Berlin. After the Blazers scored, the fans turned the cozy gathering into something reminiscent of a Peter Gabriel concert. No, I’m not ashamed to admit that I once spent my own money to go see Peter Gabriel live…alone. He kept us waiting for nearly an hour and finally trudged on stage with a tailor made line that forced us all to forgive him immediately. “Sorry I was running a little late tonight. On the way here…..something got in the way……..STEAM!”
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
The Croat
fans in this tournament turned out to be the ABSOLUTE WORST. They threw flares
on the pitch. They accosted Polish women. They (probably) even reduced their
number of weekly showers from one to zero. Peter Gabriel’s “Scratch my Back”
and “New Blood”….ROCK! Ditto the 2012 “So” Reunion tour. The man with enough
sense to leave Genesis back in 1975 remains one of my faves.
Spain will not only win this group, they will dominate all
three matches. The Croats should be easily dismantled. This sets up an epic
battle between the Wops and the Micks for second place in the group and a trip
to the quarterfinals. Former Italian coach Giovanni Trappatoni attempts to
exact revenge against the homeland that fired him back in 2004. Whoever ends up
prevailing, I guarantee we’ve got the most intriguing storyline of the
tournament in this group. Los!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Things
turned out slightly differently. The Croats took full advantage of Trappatoni’s
weaklings and very nearly secured a knockout round berth. Thankfully, La Roja
were on hand to smack the Slavs down.
Spain
You may want to sit down. After playing downright miserable after his transfer to Chelsea last year, I remained absolutely convinced that Fernando Torres was finished. Seemingly every European sportswriter concurred and left him off their provisional lists. Somehow, Torres found his form in a late season surge, clawing and scraping his way back into Vincente del Bosque’s good graces. It still came as a surprise when he was called up yesterday. Torres’ inclusion pushes the total worth of his club well above 800 Million Euros, the most expensive national side ever assembled by a factor of nearly two.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Torres
had one of the most mercurial tournaments you’re ever likely to witness. After
being relegated to the bench in the opening match, del Bosque tapped him for a
surprising start against the Micks in Round Two. El Nino secured a brace. After
languishing over the next three contests, he earned Golden Boot honors with a
goal and an assist in the epic final. If his functionality in the tournament
turned out to be somewhat spotty, the subsequent season put any doubts about
his resurgence to rest. He’s performed marvelously for the Blues this season.
Fernando Fernando won’t be going anywhere soon. Looking forward to seeing him
this Summer.
At that price the expectations soar in tandem. Nothing short
of a third consecutive international title will suffice. This generation of
Spanish fans has no idea how good they have it. I’m old enough to recall when
La Roja were the choking jokes of Europe. The Spaniards no longer shoot
themselves in the foot….unless they happen to be a member of the Royal family.
Aw…snap. That was so gimpy it belonged in a Leno monologue.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Bad
Late Night jokes aside, the current Spanish football dynasty deserves respect.
Any cutting humor about Spanish Football prowess belongs in the scrapyard….like
Juan Carlos’s Yacht! Hey-ho!
Do they have the talent? Well, this cadre of players aren’t
receiving 800 million Euros via osmosis. This is essentially the same team that
captured the World Championship two years ago with only three notable absences.
Joan Capedilla has been left off after nose-diving at Benfica. Beyond that, two
HUGE injuries give one cause for serious pessimism. Barca’s beating heart
Carlos Puyol will have to sit this one out after sustaining a knee injury
earlier this month. Without him, it’s not clear Pique will be the same. The two
have such seamless chemistry, always anticipating what the other wishes to
accomplish out of the back. Breaking up the best Spanish duo since Ferdinand
and Isabella will have serious consequences. Replacing Puyol will be Juan
Francisco Torres (Juanfran), a late call up from Athletico Madrid. He’s a very
competent player, but has as of this week one cap to his name.
Most importantly, again I hope you’re sitting down: La
Roja’s number seven will not make it back in time. After breaking his tibia in
the Club World Cup in December, all football fans preserved our sanity by
simply assuming David Villa would make it back just in time to dazzle on the
Euro Pitch this June. Villa’s loss cannot help but pierce the hearts of
football lovers of every nation. Not only is “El Guaje” one of the slickest
football players ever, you just knew La Roja would ignite every time he pulled
on the Trikot. Fifty-one goals for the national side! We’re all depressed. I
wrote in my opening letter than “no major stars were injury”. I too fully
expected del Bosque to trot him out yesterday like Sven did with Rooney in
2006. Instead we were all crushed by the news.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
It
never ceases to amaze. How did they do it? No Puyol. No David Villa. They
achieved regardless.
Of course, the news isn’t as bad as you think. As
inconsistent as Torres has been for the last two years, he appears to have
recaptured his mojo. Fernando Llorente returns after registering 29 goals for
Athletico Bilbao in another superb season. Pedro Rodriguez has been squeezed
out a bit at the Camp Nu this season, but put together a stellar campaign
nonetheless. Alvaro Negredo put home 14 for Sevilla. That reminds me. Time for
a spiteful rant disparaging the fascist Luis Aragones? Hmm….nah. Not this year.
I’m on break.
La Furia Roja are deep at striker. They will survive without
Villa. Midfield looks strong as well, where the entire cast returns. Set piece
technician Cesc Fabregas may have struggled to prove that he was worth every
cent of the 55 Million Euros Barça paid for him, but that’s mainly because he
plays alongside Andre Iniesta, Sergio Busquets, and Xavi Hernandez. It’s the
most crowded midfield in all of football. Neither one of them put up
spectacular numbers this season, but that’s only Barça is sooooo stacked. Juan
Mata, Jesus Navas, Xavi Alonso and David Silva all return. Hey, guess who
else’s back? Malaga’s Santi Cazorla returns after missing the 2010 World Cup
with a hernia. Er….I’ve always been too polite to ask. Isn’t a hernia basically
a nutsack strain?
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Del
Bosque’s wizardry knew no bounds. Fabregas, Xavi, Xavi Alonso, and Busquets
proved a brilliant combination in the successful, if indecisive first match.
Iniesta and David Silva were then deputized to feed Torres in what could only
be described as a well-designed confidence builder for the kid. Del Bosque
trotted out the same formation for the final group match before moving Fabregas
up front for the border battle against the French in the knockout stages.
Leaving the flukish Quarterfinal aside for the moment, the 4-3-3 he rolled out
in the final dropped Fabregas back while pushing Iniesta and David Silva
forward. Torres was then substituted in relatively early to nail in the coffin.
Zack, Zack, Zack. All the pieces fell into place. Watch him capture the
Confederations Cup with such brilliance
Juanfran isn’t the only new face in defense. Catalan kid
Jordi Alba gets his shot as the long-term replacement for Joan Capdevilla.
After an intriguing run of play in the qualifiers, we’re all playing close
attention. He’ll have to fend off Estella’s Javi Martinez first, a solid
central defender who was called up for 2010 side but never played. As noted
above, the loss of Puyol will hurt Pique’s game. Spain still has perhaps the
best right back in all of football, Real’s Sergio Ramos. While Juanfran takes
Puyol’s roster spot, Real’s Raul Albiol will fill in for him in the starting
eleven. He’ll do fine. Exhale Amigos.
Iker Casillas returns as captain and number one keep. Poor
Pepe Reina hasn’t got around to stabbing him in the shower yet. Seriously, what
the hell does Pepe have to do to get some love? When will it finally be HIS
turn? Both keepers possess seemingly equal skill. Can’t they at least throw
Pepe a bone during a friendly match every once in a while? By the time Casillas
retires, Reina will be too old to assume the mantle. They’ll skip right over
him and go straight to either Victor Valdes or David da Gea. Was matter mon,
you no like Pepe?
Alright. Let’s wrap it up with the bottom line: In spite of
the injuries, this squad remains more or less invincible. They’ll plow through
this group and beat the everlasting shit of their quarterfinal opponent from
Group D. If they are to be defeated, it will be in the semifinals. What a damn
shame that this tournament doesn’t have a third place match.
Vicey Presents……… “The All-Ugly Team 2012”
BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND
Yes, I’m secure enough in my sexuality to comfortably assess
whether or not I think another man is handsome. No, I do not feel like ranking
them as I do hot girls or Female football players. No fun in that exercise. I
would like to extend the offer to one of my three female readers or perhaps one
of the two flaming ones. If you feel like undertaking such a task, your
contribution will be valued at…let’s say a $15 betting credit. Have fun and
join the fun. It’s just another thing you can do to distract yourself from your
inescapable exit from this world of color and consciousness to an eternity of
dark nothingness. It’ll be a real mood brightener.
On my end, I’ll take care of the guys in desperate need of a
man-to-man confrontation. I feel compelled to do so after seeing the 342,873rd
European metrosexual hipster in skin-tight jeans walked past my desk sporting
masterfully retarded gelled hair. It’s fucking Jersey Shore Babylon over here.
What the situationing-snooki-ing fuck is wrong with you stupid motherfuckers?
Someone seriously needs to sit you down and remind you that you possess a pair
of testicles. Lose the goddamn hair-gel fop! I’m frankly tired of walking off
with the women that were freaked out by your hideous fucking stalagmites. Most
of you won’t even have any hair after a few years. Treat it better than this. I
acknowledge that I too was once young, vain, and incurably dumb. Dismayed at
the gradual darkening of my once platinum blonde hair, I had it highlighted a
few times and even fully dyed once or twice. Then one day I awoke to the
realization that I was not, in fact, endowed with a vaginal cavity. Time to man
up, mates. Football players especially…
“All Ugly Team” Candidates—Spain
Gerard Pique
Rugged, handsome, and a nice chin to boot. Gerard, why are
you spending so much time in front of the mirror? It must take twenty minutes
to perfect that hairstyle! No woman should ever have to admonish her man for
spending too much time in the bathroom! This should never happen! Of course
you’re Spanish and everything, but why be late to EVERYTHING because you were
dicking around with your hair?
Sergio Ramos
Much like Sami Khedira, Sergio Ramos doesn’t belong on this
list. I simply had to find an excuse to show you this picture:
Sigh. Life’s good when you’re a footballer. I’ll never get
within thirty yards of that woman. I could cry now.
Jordi Alba
For the thousandth time, what the coagulated crusty fuck
possesses an otherwise decent looking dude to run gelatinized garbage through
his hair until he looks like a grown-up Alfalfa strung out after a week-long
cocaine binge? This pisses me off more than black women with an obvious weave. STOP
IT! You’re beautiful AS IS!
Xavi Hernandez
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for impersonating Satan. One of
my hobbies in fact. I’m afraid our dear boy Xavi has just taken it a little too
far:
Cesc Fabregas
Excellent. The good news is he dropped the mullet:
The bad news is…well…the bad news pretty much speaks for
itself.
Santi Carzola
Not be outdone, Santi combines the worst of both Fabregas
Looks. Why not go for a mullet AND spikes:
Jesus Navas
Yes, I’m sure this picture adorns many a Spanish Chica’s
wall. Here’s the Sevilla midfielder trying out for the Iberian 90210.
Infinitely sadder, in my search for bad hair, I had to leave an electronic
cookie on a website entitled “A Disfutar Chicas”. Christ I don’t even want to
think about what’s going to be in my spam box tomorrow morning.
Fernando Torres
You had to know this one was coming. Poor Torres has lived
his entire life in denial. You’re not blond, Fernando! Deal with it!
Projecting the Spanish Lineup (4-2-3-1)
Fernando Llorente
|
Juan Mata Pedro Rodriguez
|
Andres Iniesta
|
Xavi Hernandez
Cesc Fabregas
|
Jordi Alba Gerard Pique Raul Albiol Sergio Ramos
|
Italy
Quite the preponderance of uncharacteristic modesty in the Azzuri camp. New Wop Trainer Ceasare Prandelli freely admits that his squad will not capture Europe. One can hardly fault them for the caution. It’s been a tumultuous six years since they stole the cup on German soil in 2006. After the failed Donadoni experiment and the disastrous Marcello Lippi comeback in 2010, expectations must be tampered. The more subdued Prandelli has been quietly rebuilding a national eleven that said arrivederci to long-term staples Fabio Cannavaro, Vincenzo Iaquinta, Gianluca Zambrotta, and Mauro Cameronesi. Three immortal veterans, Gianluigi Buffon, Antonio Di Natale and Andrea Prilo, return to captain a club featuring plenty of fresh faces.
A trip to the quarterfinals hangs by the most tenuous of
threads. More specifically, success for the Azzuri depends heavily on the
random neurons firing in the mentally unstable neural network of Man City
Striker Mario Balotelli. If you’re unfamiliar with the borderline bipolar man
with the Mohawk, the cat constantly lifting up his powder blue jersey to reveal
a “Why Always Me?” Tee, he’s essentially the Ron Artest (Metta World Peace) of
football. The 21-year-old of Ghanaian descent had a monster year for the
Premiership champions and will surely eventually mature into one of the
greatest of all time. Out of concern for team cohesion, Prandelli remains
conservative when calling up Balotelli. He’s been up and down since November.
Hesitancy will likely lead the Dago skipper to start Cassano and Di Natale at
striker, even if it would be braver and wiser to insert the X-factor. Cassano
was lackluster for AC Milan this season and Balotelli could feed better balls
to Di Natale all evening long. The sooner the former Fiorentina frontman dumps
Cassano, the closer the Guineas can close in on the quarterfinals. Italian fans
have to rue the fact that Villarreal’s Giuseppe Rossi isn’t available. With him
in the lineup the issue would be settled.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
If you
only knew how much the Germans curse Mario Balotelli. They don’t curse him as
much as the filthy dirty racist Dagos…
Daniel de Rossi and Pirlo return to direct an overhauled midfield.
Bologna’s Alessandro Diamanti and Paris St-Germain’s Thiago Motta are both
29-year-old rookies, something one rarely sees on the national level. They were
called up to supplement Juventus-Turin’s Claudio Marchisio and Fiorentina’s
Riccardo Montolivo, two players that were waiting in the wings during the
Cannavaro/Zambrotta days. The back line is also comprised of older players with
surprisingly little caps. Say what one will about this approach, converted
fullback Giorgio Chiellini led the Azzuri defense to the lowest goals against
total in the qualifying round. Gianluigi Buffon returns between the pipes now
sporting the captain’s armband. The two backup keepers have 6 caps between
them, meaning Buffon is so vital to this team that they don’t even give him a
day off for friendlies.
Vicey Presents……… “The All-Ugly Team 2012”
BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND
“All Ugly Team” Candidates--Italy
Thiago Motta
Having shaved two thirds of one’s head, why not simply
complete the job?
Federico Balzaretti
Dear Lord, it’s the second coming of Christ…..or a Lebowski
reference if you prefer. Nice highlights, dude.
Ignazio Abate
Almost harvest time for that turnip
Mario Balotelli
Now he’s rocking the Died Mohawk, but it’s not his first
desperate plea for attention. Last year he invited us all to help the mouse
find it’s cheese. Surely he got this idea from the kid’s placement over at
Denny’s.
Antonio Cassano
The hairstyle is of course atrocious, but even it’s
overshadowed by that swimsuit. For fuck’s sake man, take that banana out of
your speedo!
Emmanuelle Giacherreni
Whenever I hear the name Emmanuelle, I automatically gear up
to glean some tips on sensual love over on “Skinemax After Dark”. As of today,
I now have to think of this guy and his mad attempt to lacerate his head as
well.
Alessandro Diamanti
Oh Alessandro. I’ve heard of dreadlocks, but SHIT-Locks!
Projecting the Italian Lineup (4-3-1-2)
Antonio Cassano Antonio Di Natale
|
Ricardo Montolivo
|
Claudio Marchisio
Andrea Pirlo Daneille De Rossi
|
Domenico Criscito Girgio Chiellini A. Barzagli C. Maggio
|
Republic of Ireland
Thank God! Welcome back Land of Erin. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve NEEDED you. The Boys in Green join us for their first European Championship since 1988 and their first meaningful tournament since 2002. The Finals just haven’t been the same without you. Never leave us again. NEVER! As Giovanni Trappatoni put it, “the cat is in the sack!”. Make up your own mind as to what the hell that means.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Brother
Giovanni…where art thou?
Prospects remain dim even as the squad features 20
Premiership players. American fans might recognize captain Robbie Keane of the
LA Galaxy…or not. Keane has spent most of the season on loan to Birmingham’s
Aston Villa. As tournaments approach, most MLS players have to sharpen their
skills in more competitive leagues to maintain their edge. Keane has dressed
115 times for the boys in green, scoring 53 goals for Eyre. He’s your
superstar. No definitive word yet on who he will pair with up front, but I’ll
will likely be one of the three midland Strikers from West Bromwich Albion,
Shane Long, Simon Cox or Kevin Doyle. Stoke’s Kevin Doyle and Kevin Doyle of
recently relegated Wolves are also on hand.
Though he’s nowhere near Keane’s level, Fulham midfielder
Damien Duff is another legitimate star in midfield. (Duff Man is thrusting in
the appropriate direction!) Keeping him company are Everton’s Darren Gibson,
Stoke’s Glen Whelan and West Brom’s Keith Andrews. The four comprising that
last line of defense before Aston Villa’s Shay Given will probably be Stephen
War of Wolves, Leister City’s Sean St. Ledger, Sunderland’s John O’Shea and
Villa’s Richard Dunne.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
The
line “Duff Man is thrusting in the appropriate direction comes from “The
Simpsons”…in the unlikely event anyone was wondering.
Ahem. Yes, you can tell I watch an inordinate amount of
Premiership football. It’s by far my favorite league and I follow it even more
closely than the Bundesliga. I know all of these players quite well….which
happens to regrettably be the main reason I cannot pick with my heart. I’ll be
rooting for this squad with all my soul, but it just doesn’t add up. I’d be
overjoyed to see them upset the Wops and Croats, even if it costs me a little
money. I’d love to see Trappatoni become this year’s Rehhagel. I’d be ecstatic to
travel to Dublin for the final match. Hmmmm….it’s possible I’ll end up betting
my heart in some instances anyway. I just want it to happen. Why can’t this
happen?!?
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
As is
the case with the vast majority of dreams, this one died a quiet and
unceremonious death. Phrew. How infinitely sad. It’s doubtful will be seeing
the land of Erin in a meaningful international football tournament anytime
soon.
Vicey Presents……… “The All-Ugly Team 2012”
BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND
“All Ugly Team” Candidates—Ireland
Shane Cox
Spikes belong on your boots. Nowhere else.
Thankfully we have only one. No “fancy boys” here. These
Anglos are men’s men. You’ll love to watch them play. You’ll never see an
Irishmen dive or roll around feigning injury. They play with honor.
Projecting the Irish Lineup (4-4-2)
Kevin Doyle Robbie Keane
|
Damien Duff Darron Gibson
|
Keith Andrews Glen
Whelan
|
Stephen Ward
Sean St. Ledger Richard
Dunne John O’Shea
|
Croatia
Four years after the Turkish Miracle, Slaven Billic and his tablecloth-clad eleven avenged their defeat in the qualifying stages and muscled their way back into Europe. A star-studded bunch this one is, albeit with several glaring deficiencies. For starters, Bilic has to find a workable striking tandem up front. Compatibility issues, injuries, and failed experiments have plagued this team since the failed 2010 qualifying campaign. One might even say they haven’t been right since Klasnic’s kidney problems. Newly signed Wolfsburg forward Ivica Olic still struggles with fitness issues as he recovered from injury. Shakhtar Donesk’s Eduardo da Silva exhibits fading form and was never a fitting complement to either Illicevic or Jelavic either. Don’t be surprised if Billic brings either Mandukovich or even Luca Modric up front. His striking corps is so out of whack that he might as well give the midfielders a look.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Billic
and the boys got off to a cracking start, but ultimately ended up squandering
their opportunities. Had Billic brought either Mandzukovich or Modrich
forwards, matters might have turned out differently.
Tottenham stars Luka Modric and Niko Kranjcar give the
Blazers the edge in central midfield as well as on the left flank. Add the
speedy and technically brilliant captain, Shakhtar’s Dario Srna to the mix on
the right and they easily have the most dangerous midfield in the tournament.
Very few teams will be capable of competing with them on that score. Defense,
however, remains strewn with question marks. Daniel Pranjic is nowhere near his
disastrous “Tweeds” Season of 2011, when he found himself sent down to Bayern
München II. He’s still in the midst of a form crisis and has logged too few
starts to have a reliable touch. On the topic of form crises, Josip Simunic
continues to tank over at Dynamo Zagreb. That wipes out the entire left half of
the defense. The other half a’int looking too bright either. The injury to
Lyon’s Dejan Lovren means that Eintracht Frankfurt’s Gordon Schildenfeld will
have to fill in. In the event you don’t follow the second Bundesliga…well..you
haven’t missed much. He’s not a top tier player. Tottenham’s Verdran Corluka is
also less than inspiring. Having no real use for him, Harry Redknapp shipped
him off the Leverkusen on loan this season, where he’s barely played.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Kranjcar
played in all three matches, but failed to register as factor. Pranjic was
similarly M.I.A. Billic barely even bothered to deploy Corluka.
This stunningly porous line begets two serious consequences.
First, it puts more pressure on keeper Stipe Pletikosa precisely when he
doesn’t need it. He’s been wasting away at FC Rostov in the Russian League,
decaying rather precipitously at the age of thirty-three. Next, all the immense
talent of Modric, Srna and Kranjcar will be for naught if they’re constantly
back helping at the back. Overall, contrary to the sportswriter consensus, I
don’t see this team getting out of the group.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
At the
very least, one must commend Mandzukic on a beast of a tournament. He scored
three of four goals. Jelavic provided the outlier.
Vicey Presents……… “The All-Ugly Team 2012”
BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND
“All Ugly Team” Candidates—Croatia
Mario Mandzukic
Okay. My hair does this naturally some days. Actually TRYING
to pull off the Reptilian look is another matter.
Ivo Illicevic
I’ll allow the hair. It’s not egregious. I enclose this
picture as it will certainly be the last one of him in an FCK uniform. Oh, my
beloved Rote Teufel have been relegated…AGAIN. What sucks even more than
getting sent down a league is the loss of all your best players. They jump ship
immediately. Life’s not fair.
Ivica Olic
For the love of all that is sacred, try NOT to look like a
child molester.
Eduardo
Hmmm…I bet he drives to the matches in a Delorean.
Projecting the Croat Lineup (4-4-2)
Nikica
Jelavic Eduardo
|
Niko Kranjcar Luka Modric
Dario Srna
|
Ivan Rakitic
|
Daniel Pranjic
Josip Simunic G. Schildenfeld V. Corluka
|
Vicey’s
Fearless Group Prediction (2 to 1 odds for bookie):
1) Spain
2) Italy
3)
Croatia
4)
Republic of Ireland
Overall
Championship Odds:
Spain
(Straight up)
Italy (3
to 1)
Croatia
(4 to 1)
Republic
of Ireland (4 to 1)
Quarterfinal
Odds:
Spain
(NO BETS)
Italy (Straight up)
Croatia
(2 to 1)
Ireland
(NO BETS)
