Tag Stateside Syndicate Members,
Round one is officially complete and we are pimpin’ all over
the world. (Had to say that again). Strap in for Round 2 (through Monday). The
Stakes are higher, the play (should be) looser, and political figures will begin
to trickle in from across the globe. (Though we’re still predominantly dealing
with ceremonial state figures like the German president or Joe Biden). Talented
teams either or gel or succumb to the pressure. Depth, team selection, and
coaching all come into play for less talented teams. Do the lineups reflect
who’s fit or who can score? Risk your yellow cards or sub them 70+? As the
despicable and altogether useless Swiss proved, luck always plays a role.
Nevertheless, the middle round is always a favorite of strategic thinkers.
Three amazing matches to wake up to on Friday, football
fans. Find some excuse to either come in late to the office or avoid it
altogether. Tell them you’re being held hostage by a diabolical villain and
give them my phone number. Pop out for a “client meeting” and return at three
to put in a good afternoon’s work. Holy Shit! You forgot about your daughter’s
piano recital, your great-aunt’s funeral, your baby momma’s terminal illness,
and your disgusting genital warts surgery that your boss absolutely does not
want to hear about! You can’t come in until late on Friday.
Of course, if you have one of ESPN 3s “Preferred internet
service providers” or a DVR you can watch any game any time in any language
that you want. Still, nothing like watchin em live, especially considering that
asshole Phil in Marketing is just going to spoil everything. He has to be the
one that tells everyone first. Americans: Your team kicks-off at 9:45 a.m.
Eastern!! Find an excuse!! If every mediocre professor in this country can
cancel his “3:45-4:00/Every Other Wednesday” Office Hours so that he/he can
finish a crap article on “Personal Identity Shifts in late 18th
Century Afro-Cuban Transgender Literary Footnotes” that no one will ever read,
SO CAN YOU! It’s your turn! Take
the goddamn morning off!
Friday--------
Germany vs. Serbia
vs. 
vs.
Javoll! Get your day started with the only team in this
tournament that runs like a perfectly calibrated Porsche engine. I couldn’t
have envisioned a more perfect entrance for Die Mannschaft! Effective use of
the flanks, top-class finishing, crisp passing, and dominant possession force
me to pull out a humiliating übergeek reference and quote Auron from Final
Fantasy X
Ahem…… “THAT’S HOW IT’S DONE!!”
As Klaus Wowereit will tell you, Germans certainly know how
to deliver a good spanking. I doubt we’ll see one in this game, though. The
Jungs are due for one of this tournament’s all-too-frequent gaffes. In
addition, the Serbs have a talented squad and a decent coach who has likely
been quite fastidious in studying the film from Sunday’s romp. Do forgive my
German pessimism. Perhaps it comes from living in a country where the forecast
(translated) looks like this:
Monday: Grey Skies. Chance of rain.
Tuesday: Grey Skies. Chance of rain.
Wednesday: Cloudy. Eight Percent chance of Sunshine in the
late afternoon.
Thursday: Oh fuck it. Just go to Italy already!!
Hard to believe that old Blues song “They call it stormy
Monday, but Tuesday’s just as bad” wasn’t written by a German. But I digress.
Die Mannschaft wins. Özil finally gets the goal after a tight match. Jens
Böhresen shows up. Horst Köhler realizes he forfeited a chance to watch a WM
match by not thinking ahead (somehow) and solemnly cries himself to sleep.
THE LINE:
Deutschland +1 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Serbia 1, Germany 0. Oh je. Ups Deutschland. It simply wasn't our day,
evidenced right away when Sami Khedira and Poldi sent two early efforts
millimeters wide. The Mannshaft played with decent pace, but any momentum was
stifled in the 37th when Miroslav Klose was sent off on double
yellows. His back challenge on Stankovic was certainly illegal, but nothing so
malicious as to warrant the expulsion. One minute later it was Krasic surging
toward the byline, cutting back a looping cross for Ziggic, who headed it down
back across goal. Standard Liege winger Milan Jovanovic earned himself a
Liverpool contract in the coming transfer window with a deft touch off his
chest followed by thumping tricycle off the volley. 1-0 Serbs.
The
Krauts fought hard for an equalizer, coming close in first half injury time
with a Khedira rocket that banged off the post and an acrobatic bicycle from
Müller off the rebound. It just wasn’t our day. Schweine broke free shortly
after the restart and had only the keeper to beat…..until ManU’s Nemanja Vidic
came through with a needlepoint slide tackle from five meters away.
Jaw-droppingly good stuff. Not our day. Poldi found the wrong side of the net
five minutes later after flubbing a brilliant ball sent in from Özil. Not our
day. Vidic was judged to have handled the ball in the box at the hour mark.
Actually, “judged” wouldn’t exactly be the right world. He flagrantly pawed
down the ball with his right hand. A low-resolution satellite could have picked
it up. Poldi rarely misses penalties, but he could not convert today with a
half-hearted effort toward the center right that Stojkovic easily saved. Not
our day.
The
White Eagles produced the better opportunities in a pusillanimous final half
hour. An engaging match even if the final result left plenty to be desired. No
reason to cry in one’s lager just yet. Can’t win them all. Might as well lose
in the group stage.
United States vs. Slovenia
vs. 
Slovenian captain Robet Koren has guaranteed victory in this one and I’ve moved the line up by a goal. No excuse for such hubris. You gonna take that Yanks? Some former Yugoslav from a country with two million people with a name that sounds like some sort of gastro-intestinal ailment talking smack to you?!?
Originally, I imagined the U.S. eking out a close victory;
an underachieving performance featuring lots of Tim Howard making the “Bat
Child found in Cave” face from the Weekly World News after a come critical
saves. Now it appears the country with the Charlie Brown uniforms has
pronounced its own death sentence. This should be a fantastic day to be a
card-carrying member of Sam’s Army.
NOTE TO U.S. FANS: Please learn the names of your current
top eleven. Listening to you brag about Demarcus Beasley is so plaintive, it
makes me want to burn my U.S. Passport, move to Bielefeld and open up a
Schnitzel Stand. Despite what you might have heard on TV, the U.S. team is more
than just Tim Howard, Clint Dempsey, Landon Donovan, and Jozy Altidore. You’ve
also got Bundesliga players Michael Bradley (coaches son), Ricardo Clark, and
Steve Cherundulo. Onyewu, Spector, Bocanegra, and Feilhaber are other
successful international players. Your Young up-and-comer is Jose Francisco
Torres. He broke his father’s heart and declined to play for Mexico just for
you! He’s a freaking Mexican version of me LL Cheer for him, please.
THE
LINE: Uncle Sam +2 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Slovenia 2, USA 2. Okay. Dealing with this match will not be easily, owing to
the controversial nature of the final moments and the firestorm that I ignited
after chastising fans for their racist rhetoric on online message boards.
Before delving into the details of what made this, I’ll give you the quick
synopsis. A potential U.S. winner was disallowed for no reason by referee Koman
Coulibaly, an African from Mali. The unfortunate conclusion notwithstanding, it
was still an enthralling comeback for the U.S. Squad (who had been 2-0 down)
and I came to the online chatter eagerly looking forward to the newfound
enthusiasm Americans had found for their team. Instead, there it was. The word
that even a outspokenly profane individual such as myself dare not utter,
scrawled all over the internet by angry Yanks who couldn’t even spell Mali and
doubtless had no idea where it was.
The
incident was akin to the racist rants posted by Boston Bruin fans after their
Game Seven defeat in this year’s Stanley Cup Playoffs. Shameful stuff from an
otherwise likeable fan base. We might be better off pretending it doesn’t
exist, but it’s still out there. Admittedly, I got a bit self-righteous and
delivered some words that may be described as pedantic, patronizing, and
perhaps even pretentiously haughty. Broaching the topic of racism with White
Americans is a no win. It unleashed a torrent of vitriol, most of it
unprintable even by my standards. For the first and (hopefully) only time I had
to kick out a syndicate member who wrote me several vile diatribes asserting
that racism no longer existed in America, IN HIS WORDS, owing to our “N*****
President”.
Where
to begin? I’ve never been the type to surround myself with people with whom I
agree with on everything. Quite the opposite. Seeking out those with the
opposing views remains a central tenet of the manner in which I live my life.
One cannot learn anything otherwise. In keeping up a friendship, I care very
little about a person’s political views or their more dubious proclivities.
What views a person holds says less about the heart they have at their core and
more about their upbringing, exposure, and innate prejudices. If you find this
difficult to accept, ask yourself how many of your friends, the ones you know
have a genuinely gentle heart and would never hurt anyone else, still spew venomous
bile every so often. It happens. That’s just what human beings need to do. In
these times of an intractable and highly personal turbocharged political
atmosphere we would all be wise to remind ourselves of the fact that most
people have more good in them than we give them credit for. Very rarely will
you meet a person, even one with spiteful and hateful views, who doesn’t have a
beating heart beneath that yearns to do good. I’ll aver that this is true for
most anyone sitting on any point of the political spectrum. Dick Cheney
complicates the metaphor a bit, but only because he now has someone else’s
beating heart beneath his chest. Look, the point is: Strive to see the
positives in people, even those with whom you vehemently disagree.
Onwards
to the subject of pretension, arrogance, or whatever synonym only the most
insecure chose to accuse me of. I always found this accusation peculiar as it
insinuates that I was somehow ignoring the disgusting racism latent in European
football. Europeans are actually much worse than Americans as pertains to
racism in sport. Consider the nonsense Thierry Henry had to endure. I refer not
just to the comments from Aragones. Even the Culés, a group we prefer to
associate with political progressivism, social awareness, and multicultural
tolerance, still threw bananas on the pitch when he first arrived. The Germans,
English, French, and Italians are no better. Take a gander at their fan message
boards if you’d like to feel awful about humanity sometime. It’s a cesspool of racist
and homophobic acerbity. Eastern Europe remains the most fertile of grounds for
far-right white supremacy movements, in politics as well as football. The racist
banter continues on almost every pitch after almost every kickoff. Ask Patrice Evra,
supreme douchebag Luis Suarez or former England captain John Terry and former
England trainer Fabio Capello.
My
intention in imploring U.S. fans to be bit classier was not meant as some sort
of conceited lecture. I sincerely hold out hope that the American fan base,
still in the nascent stages, can prove superior to the ugliness inherent in
“Old Europe”. Not an entirely unreasonable hope. U.S. Soccer fans are generally
a cerebral and charming lot. It’s always a blast to hang with them, even when
they’re plastered. Can’t necessarily say the same for fans from anywhere in the
U.K. Once those lips get loose it’s open season. Despite all of this, I accept
the criticism that my language was inartful and I could have been less of a
jerk.
Before
moving on to the match (Something I too am desperate to do), we must address
the elephant in the room. Namely, why is a guy who has written words like “Wop”
and “Wetback” over 500,000 times writing a two-page treatise on racism? You
have a slight point there, but only in the most tedious of senses. Truth be
told, these words WERE offensive one hundred years ago, then we elected to get
over ourselves. A century ago, calling someone of Irish descent a “Drunken
Mick” were fighting words. Now it’s practically a compliment. “Hey, how’s my
favorite drunken Mick? Ready to hit up the bar?” During the Great War, Edward
Bernaise used the terms “Hun” and “Kraut” as a form of the most derogatory
propaganda. Call my father a “Kraut” today and his response will be
“Mmmmm…Sauerkraut. I’m hungry.” Yes, I am aware that some Italians still take
umbrage at the sight of words like “Wop”, “Dago”, or “Guinea”. My response to
those who do would be: “You REALLY need to fucking get over yourself.” As a
society we should be trending towards LESS outrage, LESS resentment, LESS indignation,
and certainly LESS of the egotistical barking sea lions who have nothing better
to say than, “I was personally offended. I found this insulting. I
experienced an adverse emotion. I was made to feel uncomfortable. I-I-I-I-I-I.”
Let it go. What sort of world is this in which YOUR feelings matter more than
the complex dynamics of the reality you should be studying? Grow up and get
back to work.
There
remain two words that most all of us can agree are inappropriate in any
context. The first is a word that no white person has any reason to use….ever.
The second is one that a straight person cannot possibly pull out unless they
wish to inflict hurt. I won’t live to see the day when these two words
themselves become archaic and lose their hurtful connotations. I’d still like
to think that we’re all moving in that direction. Less outrage, less
resentment, less indignation, less egotistical barking sea lions. So long as
you live your life without any genuine malice in your heart, so long as treat
others kindly bestowing upon them the love and affection of your tender heart,
so long as you know yourself and your close friends know you, use any words you
damn well please. Fuck the barking sea lions. They're not worth your time.
Whew.
FINALLY. The match that birthed all the tangents. This was, after all, a
watershed moment for U.S. Soccer. One change for Bob Bradley’s men, with Jose
Francisco Torres brought in to shore up the midfield Ricardo Clark couldn’t get
moving. Things did not start out so auspiciously when Valter Birsa blasted a
30-yard bullet that Howard didn’t even attempt to save in the 13th.
Uncle Sam summarily failed to get in gear for the remainder of the first half,
received positively no help from the match ref. Appalling bad officiating was
on display in the 40th when Robbie Findley was carded for a handball
that he actually took off the nose. Two minutes later Milijovie Novakovich
sliced an excellent ball past a U.S. defense way back on their heels to find
Zlatan Ljubilankic who finished deftly.
It
looked as if another humiliating performance was inevitable, but Bradley would
make some intelligent halftime adjustments. He moved Donovan up to striker and
padded the midfield, swapping out Maurice Edu for Torres and Benny Feilhaber
for Findley. Dempsey and Edu worked a fine spell of possession as the second
half began, as the scrambling Slovenes ran around like decapitated chickens.
Boston Cejan attempted a full switch clearance over the packed midfield in the
48th, but lacked the power to get over Donovan. Donovan blazed down
the right flank, his eyes on a possible cutback for the arriving Edu or
Altidore. At the last second he determined that keeper Handanovic was
sufficiently distracted and improvised by crushing an incredible effort past
his left hand that nearly tore through the top of the net. From that point
onward, Donovan led sustained U.S. pressure with all the zeal of a field marshal.
He slashed and burned through the Slovene back line, cutting sharply to set up
Altidore, Bradley, and Dempsey with quality balls. He pulverized a free kick in
the 82nd that Altidore nodded down after winning the aerial
challenge. The ball fell directly into the path of Michael Bradley and the
coach’s son fired decisively past Handanovich for the equalizer. One minute
later it was Donavan again with the perfect service, this time for Edu, who
headed in what absolutely should have been the game winner. The much-maligned
Malian ref did not see matters this way, disallowing the goal on the basis of a
phantom foul that replays could not even remotely confirm had occurred. A cadre
of U.S. players, led by Donovan, beseeched Coulibaly for some sort of
explanation. He gave them the silent treatment, easy enough considering he
spoke little English.
As
frustrating as it was to hear U.S. commentators complain of ant-American bias
and a global conspiracy, FIFA’s response to the scandalous phantom foul does
them no favors. Any discussion of the phantom foul was omitted from the
official write-up. The play itself was edited out of the official highlight
reel. Blatter & Co. might have done better to simply concede they fucked
up. Instead, the casual researcher has no way of knowing that it ever happened.
Very Orwellian stuff going on insofar as the FIFA website is concerned. One
cringes at the thought.
England vs. Algeria
vs. 
You heard john Terry’s promise to the fans, this team is doin it all for St. George. Practice that Medieval battle cry: “ENGLAND!!!!” Fabio Capello is nowhere near as bad a coach as Robert Green made him look. Rest assured he will choose his squad carefully and sub in Crouch at the right moment to finish off “Les Fennecs”. (The desert foxes)
A contact in Lyon tells me that Algerians in France are
waving a sea of green/white and turning over every Peugeot in their path in
celebration of their first World Cup berth in 24 years! Sorry guys. You may be
named after Rommel, but it is you who are about to get blitzkrieged. Eleven
premiership players outdo one. You’ll always have the Algerian National Ice
Hockey Team! (No, I did not make that up. That actually exists)
THE
LINE: England + 2 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
England 0, Algeria 0. Capello gutted his original starting eleven, relegating
Robert Green, James Milner and Ledley King to the bench. We would later learn
that King had suffered an injury. Replacements Jamie Carragher and Gareth Barry
never looked close to being in sync with the rest of the crew, engineering
practically no flow throughout the first half. Desperate to generate some
forward momentum, Capello dropped Rooney further back leaving the frontal
duties to Heskey. Rooney was able to distribute the ball to Barry, Lennon, and
Lampard in space for some threatening efforts. After the restart he was able to
find Gerrard with a little flick on. Bougherra and Belhaj stood tall at the
back, patiently and adroitly timing their defensive challenges. Midfielder
Rafick Halliche was frequently back helping as well, tackling away form a
destined-to-score Heskey on two separate occasions. Though the Algerian
formation was listed as a 3-4-2-1, as many as seven green shirts appeared on
hand to frustrate the Three Lions on every cross, dribble forward, or
innovative cycle. Obstruction was the theme of the match as St. George departed
the pitch to a cascading chorus of boos.
Saturday-------
Ghana vs. Australia
vs. 
The Socceroos are better than the Germans made them look. Regrettably, they are old enough to be considered the Betty White of the tournament. (Italy is the Robert Byrd). Looks like its about time to go home Aussies. Tim Cahill’s red card is Australian for “we’re fucked”.
Since they left the Oceania Division and now must contend
with Asia, qualifying for 2014 will be hard for a young untested Australian
side. The Chinese will put up a fight, and indict outbackers for sharing more
industrial secrets if they lose. On the subject of the Chinese, they are
probably calmly watching the matches deciding which country they will
ultimately like to buy. Both of these countries are excellent candidates,
considering China is practically halfway there with both of them. Watcha say,
slanties? Everything must go. SALE, SALE, SALE!!
South Africa’s dismantling got you down? No worries
Africans. We’re all behind you. The hope lives one with this Ghana squad! Some
thoughts from the dailies:
“Ghana remains one of the classiest countries ever to set
foot on the pitch. Recall when John Paintsil pulled the Israeli flag out of his
shorts? As a German, I can attest to the fact that (quite literally) we are
brothers!”
We are all Africans (or we were some 60,000 years ago).
Let’s do it Black Stars!
THE
LINE: Ghana +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Ghana 1, Australia 1. The absence of Cahill, along with a 24th
minute red card for Harry Kewell, left the Black Stars a prime opportunity to
demolish a severely weakened side. Somehow they just couldn’t capitalize. Thirteen
minutes prior to the sending off, the Socceroos had opened the scoring after
Richard Kingson made a hash out of Mike Bresciano’s free kick. Brett Holman was
on hand to scoop up the rebound for the lead. Kewell stood the left of his
keeper, prepared to clear off the line as John Mensah unleashed a tomahawk. He
ended up handling the shot with his right arm, depleting his squad to ten men
and gifting the Ghanaians a penalty. Asamoah Gyan converted to tie things up
with plenty of goals still to come. Only they never came. Kwadoah Asamoah and
Asamoah Gyan managed to test Schawarzer’s pulse with several efforts from a
hopeful distance, but there would be no real penetration forthcoming. The only
acrobatic save of the second half belonged to Kingson, who rushed back into
position for a diving grab of Joshua Kennedy’s volley. As the whistle blew for
full time, I shook my head at what an opportunity the Black Stars had
squandered. They should have finished the group atop Germany, setting up a
Germany-USA match. It simply wasn’t to be.
Netherlands vs. Japan
vs. 
The Dutch win was certifiably just as ugly as the new four-party coalition government. Ugh. Japan is flying high, hyped up by new “wrestle mania premier” Stone Cold Nato Kan, their first victory on foreign soil, and whatever game show is throwing losing contestants from a ten story building into a pit of rat droppings. I’d really like to trust you Orange. I’d like to think that this is the game where van Persie, de Jong, and Kuyt come alive and show what they are capable of. That lurid performance against the Danes left me unconvinced. I kept thinking you would break it open, yet you left me alone! Alone! Alone to ponder what I could possibly say about your sordid performance! Alone to mix-and-match Dutch player names in the pursuit of the best porn star epithet! By the way, here are my thoughts on that:
1) Dirk van der Wiel
2) Demy de Jong
3) Giovanni Vorm
4) Ryan van Bronckhorst
5) Nikki Haley (hehehehehe. Its time we all admit it. She
has a marvelous pornstar title! Looks as if she could star in a few flicks as
well. Can’t you just picture her striding up the podium to claim her AVN
Award?)
THE
LINE: Netherlands +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Netherlands 1, Japan 0. A rather sloppy match kept the camera focused on the
hotties in the stands. The Dutch seemed incapable of stringing together any
crisp passes until the 53rd. It was Van der Vaart with the piercing
cross and van Persie with the one-touch layoff for Sneijder. Thought the
ensuing goal was a screecher, I was perpetually preoccupied with thought of
making the female fans screech. A boring match with some excitingly dirty
thoughts.
Cameroon vs. Denmark
vs. 
vs.
This is the round of Africans. Cameroon has a very talented
team that apparently decided, since the fans in the Japanese match decided not
to show up, they would go ahead and phone it in as well. I haven’t given up on
them yet. There were plenty of brilliant flairs in that opening match
(Mandjeck’s little flick on, Eto’o’s deke, Bassong’s switch, and Ekooto’s
cross). Overall, I like what I saw from the Indomitable Lions. They can still
do it……..
THE
LINE: Cameroon +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Denmark 2, Cameroon 1. The line was set in part due to the anticipated
continued absence of Danish captain Jan Dahl Tomasson. In a surprise move he
was professed fit and reclaimed his anchoring midfield position. This freed up
Rommedahl and Bendtner to execute all manner of exciting plays. Things began
optimistically enough for the Indomitable Lions, with short striker Pierre Webo
stripping the snake bit Christian Poulsen at the back and squarely perfectly
for Captain Samuel Eto’o. At the very least we were treated to that call.
Eto’o, Webo and Alex Song made good lateral use of the pitch after the 10th
minute strike while the Danes struggled to find their footing and
re-incorporate Tomasson. Gradually the attack came together. After a solid ten
minutes spent in the attacking third, Rommedahl and Bendtner finally figured it
out in the 33rd. Rommedahl rushed down the left flank with Tomasson
drawing double coverage. Bendtner ran parallel totally unmarked and Rommedahl
supplied a cross that he could finish with the tip of his right boot.
Uninterrupted
crossfire concluded the half. Rommedahl and Tomasson managed some intriguing
efforts on goal, while Eto’o clanked the post and Emana forced Sorensson into
stretch save. Cameroon started the second 45 the stronger side and it came as a
surprise when Olsen’s Eleven grabbed the lead against the run of play. Mere
moments after Webo missed a wide open net for the third time in three minutes,
Jensen and Tomasson ran a counter that Rommedahl finished with a bending effort
for a 61st minute goal. Fighting for their life, Lions coach Paul Le
Guen brought on two additional strikers for a last-ditch pummeling of Sorensen
that facilitated plenty of entertainment, but no equalizer. Your friendly
bookie was in the red. A financial comeback would take some more fastidious
work.
Sunday---
Slovakia vs. Paraguay
vs. 
Alright Weiss, let’s have a little chat:
Your son played an incredible game. Throwing Weiss and
Hamsik forward was a ballsy stroke of genius. Subbing out Sestak and Vittek for
the lead protecting 4-5-1 was far
too timid a move. The conservative tactic may not have been to blame for your
back line falling asleep on inferior opposition, but don’t let me catch you
throwing this game with it! Consider shelving Skrtel and starting Pekarik at
left back. This should neutralize Santana and possibly save you from the
tenacious “late legs” of Santa Cruz.
And for those of you who are pissed that I went a whole
paragraph without a puerile joke……ah hell…I don’t know….PENIS….there you are.
THE
LINE: Slovakia + 2 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Paraguay 2, Slovakia 0. Yeeeouch…and the hits kept coming. Were I to compose a
gambling manifesto, a rule against betting on father-son coach-player
combinations would be the first to be canonized. Bad news all around. I’ve
never been able to collaborate with my father on dinner plans. Why the
puss-oozing fuck should it be different on the pitch? Weiss had a nightmare of a
game He challenged with the reactions of a drunken inbred monarch. He ran like
Steven Segal. His compensation was to play dirty, immediately taking his side
out of the officiating’s good graces. Still, his father refused to pull him.
Not after Paulo da Silva swept past him to link up with Enrique Vera for a 27th
minute goal. Not after the two nearly tripled the lead with two nearly
identical plays in the 54th and 72nd. Not after his ugly
challenge on Victor Caceres in the 84th. Not after Riverios caught
him miles from position for the second goal in the 88th. A horrible
day for those named both “Weiss” and “Weis”. Bloody hell. What sort of father
stands by his son even when he fucks up so royally? My father buried me with an
avalanche of criticism before I could even get out the door in the morning. I
sincerely hope Weiss gave his son some notes…perhaps even a lecture entitled
“Why you suck.”
Italy vs. New Zealand
vs. 
Out to support you boys Azzuri? Might as well not even bother. The Dinosaur Wops take on the young upstart “All Shites”. This game will be more boring than this summer’s Supreme Court confirmation hearings (the only time even I have to turn off C-Span). You’ll let out more yawns than when you were watching the Charlie Rose World Cup Special. After a game that will leave you demanding the last 90 minutes of your life back, Cameronesi will be credited with a bullshit deflection goal off a set pieces play….and a bunch of greasy wops will engage in an all-male orgy just outside the eighteen. Yawn.
THE
LINE: Italy + 1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
New Zealand 1, Italy 1. Inched closer to the black here. It could have been yet
more gratifying had the Azzuri not chosen to deploy the trademark flop
twenty-two minutes after conceding the lead. Some embarrassingly poor set-piece
defending, notably by Iaquinta, Gilardino, Pepe, and Cannavaro, meant a 7th
minute curling free kick fell directly to Shane Smeltz. Smeltz couldn’t miss, especially
considering Buffon had rightly assumed that his defenders wouldn’t challenge
with the leaping ability of the Lollipop Guild. In the 27th it was
“floppin time”. Tommy Smith trailed Daniel de Rossi as Criscito crossed in. He
went to ground in that classic theatrical Wop manner that suggested someone had
removed one of his kidneys. Iaquinta took the spot kick and we were level.
The
returning Marcello Lippi made two halftime changes in what appeared a cynical
ploy to introduce two of his best dramatic divers: Mauro Cameronesi and Antonio
Di Natale. Mercifully, Guatemalan referee Carlos Batres wasn’t buying it and
the match ended in a draw.
Brazil vs. Cote d’Ivoire
vs. 
In contrast to the previous fixture, this one should be a beaut! Or maybe not…Sometimes great talent on both sides merely cancels out. Let’s hope for a match rivaling that Argentine-South Korea Affair. There should be just as many scorching senoritas. J J
An insane superabundance of talent will keep the Brazilians
from running away with this one. I’ll reiterate that Kalou, Gervinho, Dindane,
Toure, Eboue, Konde, and Zokara are far too endowed a bunch to go quietly. I’ll
also reiterate that Cote d’Ivoire is perhaps the most unlucky football club
ever. The “Group of Death” two World Cups in a row? Are the French involved in
these draws?
We should see Didier Drogba and hopefully he’ll start. Here
are my thoughts on his intrepid valor, pulled straight from a daily rant:
“Accolades are in order for the courage of Drogba. One week
removed from a broken elbow and he still hits the pitch! At that point, I believe
my mother was howling about the worst pain she had ever experienced and
thumbing through her rosary beads.”
THE
LINE: Brazil + 1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Brazil 3, Cote d’Ivoire 1. A splendid afternoon of beautiful football unfortunately
dampened by some grotesque opportunism by Kader Keita. In the 25th,
Robinho found Kaka on the overlap. A quick tap forward unleashing Luis Fabiano,
who stutter-stepped past Guy Demel before lashing a very pretty effort Boubacar
Barry. The second goal in the 50th was similarly all Fabiano. He
lifted one past the Ivorian back-line and sprinted to claim it himself. After
shaking off Kolo Toure and Tiane before beating Barry low. Twelve minutes later
Kaka carried the ball practically the entire length of the pitch before finding
Elano from the right flank for a 3-0 lead.
Sven
Goran Eriksson clearly had no clue what the hell he was doing with a team he
had inherited only weeks before. He showed as much taking off Dindane for
Gervinho and replacing Solomon Kalou with Keita. Drogba and Gervinho did not
look comfortable together. Only after Gervinho finally passed back to Yaya
Toure could Drogba get a useable delivery. He headed it in for a meaningless 79th
minute consolation. The final ten-plus minutes were nothing short of hideous.
Four minutes after receiving being awarded a questionable yellow for a tackle
on Chiote, Kaka laid a finger on Keita’s chest. Keita went to ground, his hands
suggesting he had taken a shot to the face. Kaka was thus expelled on double-yellows
in the 88th after some shameful shenanigans from one of my favorite
players. I took absolutely no joy in watching Les Elephants blow it so
thoroughly. “Fuck Sven Goran Eriksson” seems the most appropriate note on which
to close.
Monday—
Portugal vs. North Korea
vs. 
vs. Some thoughts on North Koreas from the dailies:
“So many subtle pokes to hit the North Koreans with, I’m not
sure where to start. The “DMZ Defense” breaking down or the poor fitness level
necessitating an extra rice ration? The obligatory need to not only sing along
with the national anthem, but cry as well? The completely spurious rumor that
Kim Jon Il is communicating with head coach Kim-Jung-Hun through an antenna in
his tie? Please! This country can’t even send a satellite into orbit! I suppose
I’ll just congratulate Ji-Yung Nam on his goal and hope that dear leader will
at least let his people watch the game tomorrow. The game in its entirety!!!!
Starving your people and devaluing their savings is one thing, but do you have
to take away their football as well? Renal failure is coming, dear leader. Can
you feel the darkness closing in? Hope your death is slow and agonizing.”
THE GOOD NEWS: Everyone gets an extra rice ration
THE BAD NEWS: Even with a little Soy Sauce and a side of
tree bark, that is simply not enough against the world’s best players
THE
LINE: Portugal +2 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Portugal 7, North Korea 0. Back into the black with this spanking. Incredible
how much money came in on the North Koreans after their over-achieving debut.
Every tournament should feature a good free-for-all. This one had goals galore,
all of them deserved. The two sides traded scoring chances in the opening 28
minutes before Raul Meireles got us started with a fantastic finish of a Tiago
through ball. The “Starvin' Marvins” held their own until eight minutes after
the restart, when the rout would commence.
An
astonishingly gorgeous sequence of passes that included a sublime backheel from
Meireles ended with Simao sliding the ball past Ri Myong-Guk for a flawless
finish. Three minutes later it was Almeida’s turn off a Coentrao cross. Another
play instigated by Tiago’s incredibly competent vision. Tiago himself would
grab a brace with goals in the 69th and 89th, both tallies
coming from a Christiano Ronaldo delivery. The remaining two goals belonged to
substitute Liedson and Ronaldo himself. Liedson bullied in a real cracker that
reportedly broke the net threading. Ronaldo finished a four-touch masterpiece
that initially hit his head, then his shoulder, and then the back of his head
again before falling at his feet. Never underestimate the ability of the North
Koreans to combust…at least so long as their attempt to launch space-borne
rockets from a mission control center that looks like your Elementary School
Computer Lab.
Chile vs. Switzerland
vs. 
Revenge time. Yes, it is official. I’m running out of gas. Also really want to watch the Frogs take on the Spics.
A replay of the diatribe against the Swiss from the dailies:
“To the racist, bigoted, sheep-shaggers of Switzerland:
I hate your bizarre little microstate and I hate your team.
Clinking your little hillbilly cowbells, butchering the German language,
approving xenophobic policies with nearly every referendum, and providing safe
haven for every other German official’s taxable earnings. Grrrrr…I’ll get my
money back…and some valuable Data CDs as well.”
Recycling is fun!
Christ does Chile look good. I believe we have ourselves the
official Dark Horse, in both the tournament and the “Chicas Contest”
THE
LINE: Chile + 1 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Chile 1, Switzerland 0. Fairly tame anti-Swiss rant by historical standards.
Die Schweizer were reduced to ten men after West Ham’s Valon Behrami gave Bayer
Leverkusen’s Arturo Vidal a rather nasty knock to the face in the 31st.
It took some time for the Chileans to claim their silver platter prize, finally
coming through with an Esteban Paredes cross for Mark Gonzalez in the 75th.
Both were substitutes brought on at halftime by Argentine coach Marcelo Bielsa.
His strategy for augmenting the man advantage was vindicated.
Spain vs. Honduras
vs. 
Everyone in Spain appears ready to jump in front of the bull. I refuse to believe this team is finished. They played an awe-inspiring match, only losing because the Swiss got luckier than a film producer at the AVN Awards. No more gloom and doom, everyone. Let’s cheer up by learning the words to the Spanish National Anthem. This may prove somewhat challenging for those of you who don’t speak Spanish, but who doesn’t love a good old “college try”.
Everyone ready? Practice your syllables!
Ahem…Attention everyone, I give you the lyrics to the
“Marcha Real”:
“la-la-la-la…..lalalalalalalalalala
la la la la
LA! la la la la la la……lala
la-la-la-la…..lalalalalalalalalala
la la la la
LA! la la la la la la……lala”
Look it up. I believe that is a perfect representation J
Vamos Roja!!!!!!!!
THE
LINE: Spain + 3 Goals
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Spain 2, Honduras 0. Great game. Villa should have grabbed a hat trick were it
not for an inexplicable penalty miss in the 61st….or his crossbar
hit in the 6th. Del Bosque picked a stellar eleven, dropping
Bousquets and David Silva and re-jiggering the formation. In lieu of the
ineffective 4-5-1, La Roja started a 4-3-1-2, with Torres joining Villa at
striker. The use of Xavi as the anchoring midfielder and Xavi Alonso and Jesus
Navas on the respective flanks was inspired and gave Villa loads of space with
which to work. After coming agonizingly close to tallying thrice, he eventually
split the defense in the 17th and executed a tremendous finish. He
doubled the advantage in the 51st, albeit thanks to deflection off
of Honduran defender Osman Chavez.
Del
Bosque’s brilliance enabled La Roja to return from the brink. I, like many, was
surprised to learn that he would be returning from a three-year hiatus to
replace Aragones. Perhaps the furlough was precisely what he needed to sharpen
his football intuition. Had it not been for this extremely radical lineup
overhaul, we might be hailing La Roja as dual champions.
