Greetings Stateside Syndicate Members,
Your most amiable (if not somewhat annoying) bookie Vicey here, this evening with an especially bold divulgence. I am tonight officially proud to declare that “I love Women’s Football.” What was once something of a guilty pleasure has morphed into a full-blown obsession.
Tonight, on the eve of the “Frauen WM” taking place in my beloved Fatherland, I cordially invite you send me some bets…or news…perhaps a bit of both.
We’ve had such a fantastic time meeting every two years to hurl ethnic slurs at one another, invent obscene phrases, and back it all up with whatever currency we happen to be trading in. I’ve personally been moved by the privilege of touching base with all those with whom I wouldn’t ordinarily contact. I propose that, as of now, we make it an annual affair.
Obviously I am well aware of the trepidation of my
uninitiated brothers. That is why I’ve drafted a supplementary “Casual Male
Fan’s Guide to the Women’s World Cup”, enclosed with this e-mail. This other
piece also contains the odds for betting on the overall winner.
For the bulk of these past few days, I’ve consistently blown off far more important work in favor of looking at pictures of hot female Footballers while compiling an inanely puerile and somewhat raunchy omnibus manifesto detailing why all guys will have a blast with this tournament. I truly hope you will appreciate this……er……. “sacrifice”.
For the bulk of these past few days, I’ve consistently blown off far more important work in favor of looking at pictures of hot female Footballers while compiling an inanely puerile and somewhat raunchy omnibus manifesto detailing why all guys will have a blast with this tournament. I truly hope you will appreciate this……er……. “sacrifice”.
Procrastination aside, there is some great action ahead.
Even should you choose to ignore every subsequent correspondence, heed my
advice and watch the games. The ladies can play just as attractive football as
the men, and there is the added bonus that you happen to be attracted to them.
Good stuff. Good times. Below you will find your lines through Wednesday.
All lines are calculated personally by your friendly bookie
Vicey….the literal “ghost with the most”. The correspondence that follows is,
as always, crafted with sincere amity for those who appreciate sharp wit and a
small extra spot of fun in their day. Should you prefer solemnity, drama, and
conflict… kindly return to your episode of “Spartacus: Sandals and Loincloth.”
Sunday--------
Germany vs. Canada
vs. 
Not a moment to soon, a welcome summer distraction arrives in my jaded “Vaterland.” Perhaps now all the “Wutbürger” can cease with the pissing/moaning, kick back with a Pils, and wave their flags a bit. Admittedly, these are rough times for the tenuous relationship between myself and my country of origin. I have become inured to apologizing for my country, but not exactly for post-1945 events.
What a positively abysmal year to be “ein aufrechter Deutscher” Being charged with the theoretical economics defense of the Euro Area is about as cloying as being the Public Relations consultant to Gingrich. (Exasperated sigh) Slaving meticulously over export figures, sector employment rates, GDP Indicators, Ifo Trends, and ECB Directives would not be so bad….were it not for the fact that all of your hard work is readily dismissed with some flippant remark about retirement ages or Greek profligacy.
What the hell is wrong with you, Brüdern? Don’t you realize that the Euro has enabled you to achieve unrivaled Economic growth?!?!? Why can’t you accept that in the last decade you have become the prototype for sustainable development?!?! Fuck it. I need a drink. There we are. Much better.
I’d be done with the ranting, except for the fact that I
can’t have a sensible and civil discussion about Nuclear Energy without getting
a chair thrown at me, the fact that there is a Facebook Group entitled “Wir wollen zu Guttenberg zurück” with over 550,000 members, and the fact that a
bunch of useless old women in a Bienbüttel Krankenhaus thought the fact that
they masturbated with Spanish Cucumbers justified halting an already dysfunctional
agricultural trade apparatus!
What the hemorrhaging fuck is wrong with you, Kumpels? I’m supposed to be apologizing for the imbeciles in the States!! Thanks to you, I spend nearly every German-related discussion as a full-time apologist! I need another drink. Whew. Okay. I promise no more ranting.
What the hemorrhaging fuck is wrong with you, Kumpels? I’m supposed to be apologizing for the imbeciles in the States!! Thanks to you, I spend nearly every German-related discussion as a full-time apologist! I need another drink. Whew. Okay. I promise no more ranting.
Oh Canada…..why are you rioting? We stole your game, eh? So
so “Sooory aboot” that. I wish I could tell you that this team will cover
themselves in all the glory of a naked Cheryl Bernard doused in glitter.
Unfortunately, we will have but three chances to witness these majestic
natural wonders from the Great White North. They will fall apart quicker than
Harper’s 2008 government. .
THE LINE: Germany+1
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Germany 2, Canada 1. The official primer and first round betting lines were
finally disseminated at 3:30 a.m. CDT-U.S., a mere four and a half hours before
kickoff. After dithering for over three weeks, I sat down to write the
inaugural material forty-eight hours prior to kickoff. As a result of this
absolute-last-moment decision, to say I found myself under the gun would be an
understatement. Several Berettas were simultaneously pressed against my
temples.
Between pushed ghostwriting endeavors and overall sleep deprivation, I had little choice but to DVR the two opening games while I caught up on my work. Anticipating virtually no money coming in on the opening games, I could afford to put everything Sportsbook-related on hold until Sunday evening. That, at least, was the plan.
Between pushed ghostwriting endeavors and overall sleep deprivation, I had little choice but to DVR the two opening games while I caught up on my work. Anticipating virtually no money coming in on the opening games, I could afford to put everything Sportsbook-related on hold until Sunday evening. That, at least, was the plan.
I set
the alarm for 11:00 CDT-U.S. and stumbled out of bed to a furiously flashing
cell phone. Seven separate voicemail messages essentially all conveyed the same
basic bulletin. “Er….Vicey….I’m watching women’s soccer. I don’t know why I’m
watching women’s soccer. I just am. Give me a call back. I’m watching women’s
soccer. Did I mention that I’m watching women’s soccer? Please give me a call
back. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
This
match would actually kick-off second, meaning I had enough time to give everyone
a ring back before the 13:00 CDT-U.S. start and take some wagers. There were at
least three attempted bets on the France vs. Nigeria match. Alas, the
unresponsive bookie was in REM sleep when they came down. Such a dereliction of
duty will never be repeated.
Alright.
Who’s up for learning some new names? Both nations deployed but one true
striker, backed up by three competent wingers. For the “Lady Mannschaft”, it
was the youngster Cecilia Okoyino da Mbabi, a French-North African hybrid who
attained German citizenship in 2004. Backing here up were the veterans Melanie
Behringer, Kirsten Garfereckas, and Birget Prinz, none of whom I advocate you
look up.
The supremely talented veteran center forward Christine Sinclair captained the Canadians. It was she who found herself on the receiving end of a gorgeous Sophie Schmidt through ball for the game’s first legitimate chance at three minutes.
The supremely talented veteran center forward Christine Sinclair captained the Canadians. It was she who found herself on the receiving end of a gorgeous Sophie Schmidt through ball for the game’s first legitimate chance at three minutes.
The
game was off to a cracking start. At the other end, Kirsten Garefreckas and
Simone Laudehr came close to scoring inside ten minutes. Garefreckas would
eventually break through in the 11th, latching on to a perfectly
placed cross from Turbine Potsdam left back Babett Peter. Garefreckas played an
instrumental role in setting up the second goal as well, setting up da Mbabi in
the 42nd with a booming punt that the lone forward did well to
control and finish.
By all
accounts, the women in white should have burst the game wide open after the
restart. Substitute Alexandra Popp launched a 30-yard stunner that clipped the
bar shortly after her introduction in the 56th. Yes, gentlemen. The
women are not power-deficient. A scant few minutes later, Popp set up
Garefreckas with a precision chip that the Frankfurt forward inexplicably
catapulted over the bar. Simone Laudehr also missed narrowly with a fantastic
distance strike that nipped the post.
Sinclair pulled one back in the 82nd with a brilliantly
booted free kick from well outside the area. Thus, a potential 5-nil match could
only conform to the line.
Woman
of the Match: Alexandra Popp, by virtue of a very nice rack.
France vs. Nigeria
vs. 
Wouldn’t it be fantastic if this group of churlish chicks met the same fate as that of their “Les Miserable” male brethren? Fresh off a scalding diatribe of my fellow Huns, I am now fully prepared to profess love for the Bundesrepublik and bash these froggies with all the zeal of Regina Halmich on crack. Fuck these lesser halves of the “Franco-German” Engine.
In the past year, they’ve been exposed as the shameless buttresses of African dictators all over the continent, skimped on their NATO Dues, wrongly convinced Merkel to give up on Private Investment in the Greece restructuring, chased poor chambermaids around the hotel room like a crazed maniac while simultaneously ruining the reputation of the most important International Financing Agency, and……and……..that was just the last three months.
This dwarf of a President and his so-bad-an actress that Woody Allen likes her bitch need to shut their worthless traps immediately. Christine Lagarde needs to stop reminding me that I can’t chase after older women forever.
Screw it. I’ve already invested much more work in describing
my ire for the French than they expend before their four-hour lunch break/sex
session.
You’ll note in the ancillary piece I’ve elected to designate
the Female Super Eagles as “Goodluck’s Girls”. Who doesn’t love an alliterative
nickname? This perennial football powerhouse is ready to roll again. Have a
heart and root for Nigeria. Over the past fifty years, this “arbitrary border”
country has suffered much in the same way Sudan has, albeit with ONLY SLIGHTLY
fewer casualties.
Question to all Africans: Should we split this country too? Is it possible to revive Biafra? This rotating presidency thing would appear to work; we’re in not for Yar’dua’s untimely death and a distastefully bloody election. I am merely curious.
Question to all Africans: Should we split this country too? Is it possible to revive Biafra? This rotating presidency thing would appear to work; we’re in not for Yar’dua’s untimely death and a distastefully bloody election. I am merely curious.
THE LINE: Nigeria+1
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
France 1, Nigeria 0. Flags, drums, and songs on a radiant day in sold-out
Sinsheim. I quickly learned how little I knew about this sport. All it took was
one look at Louisa Necib to realize my description of Les Lady Bleus as
“churlish chicks” was way out of line. The angelic little Lyon left-winger ran
the entire show, establishing uncontested midfield presence at nearly every
turn. It was she who switched to Elise Bussaglia in space around the 22nd.
Bussaglia let fly with a forty-yarder that Super Falcon keeper Precious Dede barely got a paw to. Necib herself crushed one from the same spot in the 45th, Dede again equal to it only by a fingernail.
Bussaglia let fly with a forty-yarder that Super Falcon keeper Precious Dede barely got a paw to. Necib herself crushed one from the same spot in the 45th, Dede again equal to it only by a fingernail.
French
trainer Bruno Bini brought on additional striker Eugenie Le Sommer at the half
and within ten minutes she had combined with her partner Marie Delie for the
opening goal. Delie chested down Le Sommer’s fierce square cross from the right
flank before lacing a first time tricycle that bulged the back net.
Woman
of the Match: Louisa Necib, by virtue of the fact that those legs were begging
to be spread.
Monday-------
Japan vs. New Zealand
vs. 
Presenting the Japanese Team Photo:
I surely hope there are precisely that many smiling Japanese
girls waiting for me in Paradise. Oh wait. I almost forgot. Stunts like this
one will surely land me in hell, where merlot-sipping rotund fans of the “Black
Belles” will greet me. Ugh.
Admit it. You’ve got the fetish. You want to support Japan.
It is with a heavy heart that I must report that this Japanese team fails to
live up to the hype. While Japan will always dominate any “Hot Girls in the
Stands” Competition I happen to have considered a good idea after 2-3 Keystone
DryIceLites, Japanese Women Footballers tend to keep their hair short and their
face weathered.
Little good will come out of Japan this summer. I suppose
the best we can hope for to learn the name of yet another Prime Minister.
Personally I find repeating the names of every P.M. to fall since Koizumi to be
a relaxing form of evening meditation. Say it with me…Abe, Fukoda, Aso,
Hatoyama, Kan…Abe, Fukoda, Aso, Hatoyama, Kan……Abe, Fukoda, Aso, Hatoyama,
Kan…Oooooooaaaaaaaaammm.
The New Zealand Broads have been affectionately christened
the “All Cunts” I’ll admit it. Not a huge fan of the “C-Word”. While it may be
considered acceptable in British parlance, an American male should not be using
it….unless his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend REALLY deserves it. That particular
derogatory missile is the last resort in any arsenal. Think of it as the
equivalent of an all-out nuclear holocaust. Nothing survives the scorched
earth. It’s all over. Cue the “Dr. Strangelove” Music.
Think of the usage as an expression of my utter frustration
at having to figure out something to ay about New Zealand….again. The rugby
team is known as the “All Blacks”. The Male Football team is referred to as the
“All Whites”. Blah…..blah….blah…. “Christchurch needs to be renamed”,
blah….blah….blah…”Kiwis are tasty”…..blah….blah….blah.. “Lucy Lawless is
maturely hot.”….. blah….blah….blah…..”Flight of the Concords is innovatively
funny.”…..blah….blah…blah…..blah….”Lord of the Rings sucked”……blah….blah….
blah…..blah…..blah.
I CAN”T TAKE IT ANYMORE!! Why am I being constantly forced to write something about New Zealand! For Chris’ sake, I can only do as much of my patented “creative nude typing” as the summer heat will allow. My goddamn blinds are about to crack! Will you semi-Aussies leave me alone already?!?
I CAN”T TAKE IT ANYMORE!! Why am I being constantly forced to write something about New Zealand! For Chris’ sake, I can only do as much of my patented “creative nude typing” as the summer heat will allow. My goddamn blinds are about to crack! Will you semi-Aussies leave me alone already?!?
THE
LINE: Japan+1
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Japan 2, New Zealand 1. Plenty of babes in Bochum on this sun-drenched day. The
“All Vaginas” came out sporting white war paint while the Nadeshiko cuties
proved that the team photo did not come close to doing them justice. We were up
and running without delay. Japanese striker Shinobu Ono linked up with her
fellow forward Yukio Nagasato in the 6th. Kiwi keeper Jenny Bindon
immediately attempted to charge, but Nagasato deftly lifted it over her for a
sparkling opening goal. Six minutes later, right-winger Ria Percival left the
entire Jap back line flat footed, dribbling practically all the way to the
touchline before setting up Amber Hearn with an immaculate cross for a headed
equalizer. Dare I say Madame Hearn gives good head?
My summer subject of infatuation Ali Riley was the first to congratulate her. Soon the other hotties all joined in for what was an immensely satisfying post-goal orgy. The stats thus read: Twelve exciting minutes. Two incredible goals. Seven and a half inches of intrigued Vice. (or so I care to put in writing).
My summer subject of infatuation Ali Riley was the first to congratulate her. Soon the other hotties all joined in for what was an immensely satisfying post-goal orgy. The stats thus read: Twelve exciting minutes. Two incredible goals. Seven and a half inches of intrigued Vice. (or so I care to put in writing).
The
score remained level well into the second half. Credit to fullbacks Rebecca
Smith and Abby Erceg for their resolute tackling. Anna Green and Jenny Bindon
also made fine plays to bail out a Kiwi side that spent the majority of the
game in their own end. New Zealand’s tactic appeared to be the use of Riley as
a third forward, always pressing forward in search of cherry picking a counter.
The Nadeshiko finally converted what seemed like their 113th chance
in the 68th after substitute Mana Iwabuchi drew a foul from a beaten
Smith. Technical specialist Aya Myama curled in a bender’s delight from two
meters outside the box. Iwabuchi and Sawa squandered subsequent opportunities
during a final twenty minutes that was all Lady Samurai.
Woman
of the Match: Ali Riley, by virtue of……look dammit. I’ve no desire to come off
looking like a completely obsessed stalker. She’s simply one of the most
beautiful women you’ll ever behold. Whatever überman she ends up with, may she
forever be treated like a goddess.
Mexico vs. England
vs. 
Mexico’s allotted nickname is “The Cartel of Cuties.” The assigned name might be construed as in somewhat in poor taste, given the level of violence throughout the country. I beseech all Americans to only use as many LEGAL drugs as they can get their hands on. Hey wait a second…..never mind. This is not the place for a thoughtful discussion of legal reform of our drug laws, immigration policy, or labor regulations. Come to think of it, I’ve lost hope that a meaningful dialogue about any of those issues shall ever be possible anywhere. Very depressing. Let’s move on….
How about this England team photo:
A bunch of Eton Schoolgirls standing directly in front of
the ultimate corridor of British power! I’m giddy. David Cameron is giddy. Hold
on a sec while I print this one out. Would the right honorable ladies be
interested in a portion of Vice? The “Princesses of the Pitch” are a side to be
reckoned with. Much like the United States International Football Program, the
women are generally charged with picking up the pieces.
Was there some horribly chauvinistic comment about Kate
Middleton I wished to include? Nah. Onwards to the line…..
THE
LINE: England+2
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
England 1, Mexico 1. For some reason the sound booth staff in Wolfsburg’s
Allerpark felt compelled to crank up AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long”
after every whistle. Not as if they’re weren’t plenty of thighs on display,
many of which I personally wouldn’t mind being quaked by….it was simply far too
shitty a song to complement an otherwise delightful match.
Plenty
of stimulating regale from both sides. Anchoring midfielders Kelley Smith and
Maribel Dominguez swapped chances in the early going. Right-winger Karen Carney
cocked Ronaldo-style as she prepared to deliver a corner from the right flag in
the 21st. Her confident stance conveyed something special…..beyond
the prolonged look we all got at her shapely curves. Her service was expertly
crafted to hit Fara Williams in stride. She punched in a rousing header for a
Limey lead. Things might have well gotten worse for the “Cartel of Cuties” had
Monica Ocampo not blasted in the goal of the tournament in the 33rd.
After Nayeli Rangel and Dinora Garza engineered a spiffy little give-and-go, Ocampo found herself in space and elected to try her luck from 35 yards out. The explosive effort soared past a hopelessly flailing Karen Bardsley to bulge the top right corner. Electrifying stuff, improperly punctuated by the 324th AC/DC Riff.
After Nayeli Rangel and Dinora Garza engineered a spiffy little give-and-go, Ocampo found herself in space and elected to try her luck from 35 yards out. The explosive effort soared past a hopelessly flailing Karen Bardsley to bulge the top right corner. Electrifying stuff, improperly punctuated by the 324th AC/DC Riff.
Parity
held for the duration of proceedings as both countries struggled to bring their
nerves in line with their animated, dynamic, and inventive play. Dominguez
diverted an easy angle shot off the bar while Eniloa Aluko fanned when facing
an empty net. Ocampo missed several opportunities to earn a brace as time wound
down. Arguably, the AC/DC hex deprived us of more goals.
Woman
of the Match: Natalie Vinti, by virtue of mocha-colored skin that works the
senses like an espresso shot.
Tuesday--------
Columbia vs. Sweden
vs. 
I have anointed the Colombians with the affectionate moniker of “Mockus Maximus”. Concession made. I am so thoroughly destroyed by Antonio Mockus’s defeat in the recent Presidential Election that I cannot help but to name the team that has every right to be named after dos Santos (Calderon) after whom I consider to be the true victor.
There have actually been several elections in Latin America recently that have been nothing less than devastating to comedy lovers. How detrimental is it to satirical pokers that Keiko Fujimori lost in Peru? Wasn’t everyone looking forward to repeatedly shouting the phrase “Fujimorista!!!”. This was the “Banzai” of our generation. Sadness infiltrates my soul….much like a stubborn Marxist South American Guerilla Army.
Shall we have another look at the team I’ve termed “Ladies,
Ikea Style”?
Yikes! That is some assemblage of buxom blondage! Haven’t
seen that since many enticing blondes together since……alright…..there have
certainly already been enough porn references in both pieces.
THE
LINE: Sweden+1
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Sweden 1, Columbia 0. Well, the Swedish men may be tamely uninteresting. The
Swedish women, however, are merely aridly plebian. Yawn. In truth we should
have witnessed a more thrilling spectacle in Leverkusen on this day. Lotta
Schelin and Jessica Landström worked enough opportunities to yield a 6-0
Swedish rout. Schelin was a tad unlucky to watch her sublime finish off a break
get cleared off the line by a gutsy Natalia Gaitan. Landström sky-booted a
perfect Schelin cutback that represented the fourth sure goal of the first
half.
Just
when it appeared as if both of the center forwards were consigned to having
“one of those days”, the ladies synced up in the 57th. Schelin drew
the Columbian defense to the right flank, then tricked past them one at a time
before laying off to an unmarked Landström. Pagan fertility circle time.
Woman
of the Match: Jessica Landström, by virtue of being a raven-haired celestial
temptress.
USA vs. North Korea
vs. 
Another look at the North Korean contingent is warranted:
Time for the challenge round. If anyone can look at that
team picture and definitively pick out an ACTUAL woman, it will be my pleasure
to grant you a $40 betting credit. Sigh. This is actually no laughing matter.
Looking upon those poor exploited, roided-up souls leaves me with the rapacious
desire to strip the bed-sheets and down a hemlock.
These damned closed authoritarian Communist States! They feed their competitive female athletes so many fucking male hormones and performance enhancing drugs, forcing them to live lives of ambiguous gender and perpetual suffering. Grrrrr.. If you ever happen to find yourself visiting Berlin and are not sufficiently disquieted by The Holocaust Memorial and Topography of Terror, check out the Museum for Female Athletes of the Former East Germany. Such incomprehensible profanation! All for what?
These damned closed authoritarian Communist States! They feed their competitive female athletes so many fucking male hormones and performance enhancing drugs, forcing them to live lives of ambiguous gender and perpetual suffering. Grrrrr.. If you ever happen to find yourself visiting Berlin and are not sufficiently disquieted by The Holocaust Memorial and Topography of Terror, check out the Museum for Female Athletes of the Former East Germany. Such incomprehensible profanation! All for what?
America…..fuck yeah! Rejoice my half-siblings. The time for
you to express frivolous national pride is at hand. Not all of your brilliant,
talented, and titillating women go on to star in an HD-NET series or join the
“Milfs of the Right” political class. Your best team since 1999 is here. They
have arrived and are easily the second best team in the tournament (behind the
hosts of course).
A Germany-USA Final is almost inevitable, thanks in large part to hulkish girls of German descent (does the name Wombach ring a bell?). Germany vs. USA. That spikes the blood of all of you American Casual fans, particularly those of you who can’t resist getting stoned and flipping on the History Channel for a bit of background company.
A Germany-USA Final is almost inevitable, thanks in large part to hulkish girls of German descent (does the name Wombach ring a bell?). Germany vs. USA. That spikes the blood of all of you American Casual fans, particularly those of you who can’t resist getting stoned and flipping on the History Channel for a bit of background company.
Should there remain any doubt among the American cohort as
to whether this tournament is worth following, allow me obliterate all of your
hesitation.
There isn’t a genuinely fugly face on your team, America.
Not only do you win the prestigious title of “World’s Hottest Team” you have
one of the most skilled squads ever assembled. Ignore this tournament at your
peril. If you miss out on this to catch up on episodes of “Spartacus: Sandals
and Loincloth”, “The Real Housewives of Delaware” “Jersey Shore in Space” or
whatever other programs people are wasting their time with these days….you’re a
greater fool than I.
THE
LINE: USA+4
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
USA 2, North Korea 0. Quite a day for Sam’s Angels, even in light of the
delayed gratification. A match officiated by ultra-hot German crew chief
Bibiana Steinhaus often takes some time to get moving. The blond babe from Bad
Lauterberg earns her primary living as a police officer. Hence, she sets her
own “not tolerating any shit” tone. This is the type of woman to book you
milliseconds after you drop your boxers. After a cautious first half marked by
speculative efforts, Pia Sundhage’s squad loosened up and started dancing.
German
veteran Ali Krieger brought the ball out of the defensive half in the 54th
with some very impressive dribbling, finishing the run off with a nice overlap
for Wambach. Wambach in turn executed a magnificent crossover, cutting back off
the touchline with a sweet double-scissors move. Lauren Cheney sensed the
forthcoming cross and timed her run perfectly. 1-0 U.S. after Cheney also timed
her leap and header remarkably well. Rachel Buehler managed to poke a loose
ball past a chaotic penalty area logjam in the 76th for the second.
Stimulating performances also turned in by substitutes Alex Morgan and Meghan Rapinoe. At the other end, Hope Solo rarely saw a challenge, but was stellar in her positioning. Thankfully we did not have the misfortune of seeing her immaculately manicured eyebrows raised.
Stimulating performances also turned in by substitutes Alex Morgan and Meghan Rapinoe. At the other end, Hope Solo rarely saw a challenge, but was stellar in her positioning. Thankfully we did not have the misfortune of seeing her immaculately manicured eyebrows raised.
Woman
of the Match: Ali Krieger, by virtue of her highly competent German. I imagine
it would be quite sexy to talk dirty to a girl in my native tongue….and to have
her actually comprehend. Double bonus for the cerebral erogenous zones.
Wednesday--------
Norway vs. Equatorial Guinea
vs. 
The Norwegians are known as “The Beauties that even Thor can’t ignore”. Excellent topical sobriquet if I may say so. How Americans spent over $80 Million on the opening weekend of a film based on the most homoerotic comic book ever is beyond me. Oh well. Beats another Fjord joke or some anachronistic Scandinavian barb.
Did you know that a tiny West African Nation features
citizens with a Bantu tongue? Me either! I wrote a 60-page Undergrad Thesis on
the proliferation of Bantu Language in East Africa, and my dumb ass had no idea
it spread that far West! How humiliating! Anyway, that’s about all I have about
Equatorial Guinea……..except of course for this rant that I pulled back from the
files of 2009 when discussing the Guinea vs. Burkina Faso match:
“Once more tranquil times resume, we must take up the cause
of the preponderance of countries on this planet named some variant of
“Guinea”. We’ve got “Guinea”, “Equatorial Guinea”, “Guinea-Bissau”, “Papua New
Guinea”, and “French Guinea” (in South America). Arghhh!!”
THE
LINE: Norway +3
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Norway 1, Equatorial Guinea 0. So it was that we made the acquaintance of
Anonman, a lionhearted firecracker straight from Turbine Potsdam. The so-called
Nzalang Nacional kept it competitive all the way to the 84th,
succumbing ironically enough to a counter of their surprisingly aggressive
play. Anonman ensured her side would not exhibit even a hint of relent.
She
left the entire back line in the dust in the 18th, forcing Ingrid
Hjelmseth into a very uncomfortable looking full body save. Two minutes later
she fed Dulcia for another nasty knock against the Norwegian keeper’s chest.
Our beloved Anonman worked the hands as well, stinging Hjelmseth’s paws with a
30-yard tracer bullet at the half hour mark. Hjelmseth again had to be on her
toes at the stroke of halftime to parry Anonman’s fourth quality effort.
In the
half hour preceding Emile Haavi’s goal, Anonman fired inches wide on four more
occasions, winning over all of the neutral fans in the Augsburg arena. She was
on the verge of threatening once more when Marita Lund intercepted and alertly
lobbed forward for substitute Leni Larsen Kaurin.
The speedy midfielder had four unguarded to cover her cross after she raced to the touchline. Isabel Herlovsen was the original target, but she found herself on the deck, a victim of mutual jostling with Carol. Haavi was nevertheless present to first-time it home. The little elf-like youngster collapsed in tears, overwhelmed by her own moment.
The speedy midfielder had four unguarded to cover her cross after she raced to the touchline. Isabel Herlovsen was the original target, but she found herself on the deck, a victim of mutual jostling with Carol. Haavi was nevertheless present to first-time it home. The little elf-like youngster collapsed in tears, overwhelmed by her own moment.
Woman
of the Match: Emile Haavi, by virtue of looking so irresistibly consolable.
C’mon, baby. What’s with the tears? Everything’s gonna be all right. Vicey’s
here….for another five minutes….before he skulks off to the bar.
Brazil
vs. Australia
vs. 
The new handle of the Australian Women’s Team is….”The Outback Ovaries”. The “Lady-roos” just sounds…well frankly it sounds fucking doltish. Speaking of Oceanic teams I’m sick of writing about….this ends now.
THE
LINE: Brazil +2
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Brazil 1, Australia 0. Fairly anti-climactic match in Mönchengladbach. The
superfluous hype surrounding “Mighty Marta” turned out to be more overblown
than the buzz surrounding the third season of “Breaking Bad”. The lone goal
belonged instead to Rosana, who produced a solitary moment of magic in an
otherwise humdrum fixture. A hopeful header from Christiane in the 54th
initiated the play. Rosana met the incoming delivery with her own head, then
rifled in a beauty off the volley that Aussie keeper Melissa Barbieri didn’t
even bother to contest.
The
Waltzing Matildas enjoyed the greater share of near misses, the best highlights
coming courtesy of the forward tandem of Kyah Simon and Lisa De Vanna. Simon
was by the far the sharper of the two, twice making Andreia work at full stretch
to keep the clean sheet.
Woman
of the Match: Kyah Simon, by virtue of her gleaming smile. Yes that counts for
a lot. Perhaps not as much as the naughtier parts, but hell…always a pleasure
when she flashes her pearly whites. Am I wrong?
