Day 16: Recap
Record—
Spread: 8-20
Straight up: 12-11-5
Hot Girl Standings---
Country
|
Tally
|
Games
Played
|
Ukraine
|
101
|
3 (finished)
|
Greece
|
70
|
4 (finished)
|
Spain
|
66
|
4
|
France
|
61
|
4 (finished)
|
Italy
|
54
|
4
|
Germany
|
52
|
4
|
Poland
|
51
|
3 (finished)
|
England
|
50
|
4 (finished)
|
Sweden
|
49
|
3 (finished)
|
Ireland
|
44
|
3 (finished)
|
Portugal
|
38
|
4
|
Russia
|
32
|
3 (finished)
|
Croatia
|
22
|
3 (finished)
|
Netherlands
|
21
|
3 (finished)
|
Czech Republic
|
20
|
4 (finished)
|
Denmark
|
15
|
3 (finished)
|
Told you the Italians would catch up.
Ramble
on, Vicey
ITALIA!! My utmost gratitude to the denizens of the Südstadt
for the “festa” of the year. Flags, horns, music, raven-haired beauties, and
overly dramatic gesticular mayhem until the rising sun rudely arrived to
gatecrash! Viva l’Azzuri! Forza Italia! Always a pleasure. L’amo Italia! I rib
at you all year long with my persistent ethnic slurs, disavowal of my own
Italian heritage, and piercing mockery of your entire culture. Not today. Your
moment is now. Thanks for letting a pseudo-italiano share it with you. Wrap
yourself in the Tricolore and party on…..until Thursday when you’ll have to
wrap it up. Then it’s our turn.
Another magical evening. One cannot go wrong partying with
the Italians even if one puts effort into it. Shall we review the highlights?
19:55—Out of the door with less than an hour to spare. The
streets are already ablaze with Tricolour-clad cars, all of them honking
furiously. A beautiful bonanza leans of every window. Here I am waving,
sweetheart. Blow me a kiss won’t you?
19:59—I haven’t even made it to the tram stop yet and
already I’ve seen all four variants of the Italian flag: civil, state, naval,
and war. The familiar Neapolitan pattern is the war flag. The three alternates
all have a crest in the middle. Everyone’s representin’.
20:03—Oh shit. The tram isn't in service. Construction
issues. We’ll have to hoof it. Good thing I’ve got my running shoes on. Time to
put all that training to use. It’s going to be a sprint all the winy to
Südstadt, hitchhiking thumb out all the way.
20:05—Barely made it three blocks and it’s time to slam on
the brakes. Four dark-haired temptresses are standing outside a biergarten
waving three gigantic Italian flags. Is one of them gesturing at me
seductively? Sure as hell looks like a “come hither” face to me. This isn’t
where I was supposed to end up. My preferred destination lies some 5 km away.
Perhaps a smile and a wave will suffice. Damn, she’s still inviting me in. I
suppose this was where I was supposed to end up after all.
20:18—I buy the girls a round and get them talking while
it’s distributed. They speak flawless German and chain-smoke like a bunch of
sullen divas. Turns out they’re only sixteen. Uh-oh. Time to get the check.
They’re far too young to fall in love and I’m old enough to know. Best-case
scenario it all ends in tears. Worst case it all ends in jail. Have a lovely
evening, ladies. I have to catch up with me friend….er…..Giuseppe. Yeah that’s
his name.
20:28—This hitchhiking thumb is getting me plenty of honks,
but no rides. C’mon, guineas. I’m dressed in blue and wearing a Yamaha
motorcycle leather jacket. Can’t you see I’m off to support your team?
20:37—At last a Fiat pulls over.
“come ti chiami?”
“Pietro”
“Dove andate?”
“La incontro di Calcio”
“Beh! Bene. Andiamo a bere qualcosa insieme?
“Mah si”
20:45—Now this, my friends, THIS is an Italian Culture Club;
a nebulous smoke-filled chamber filled with old men who have been sitting here
drinking and playing dominos since noon. The pretty girls are just arriving
too, but are still sober. Made it just in time to sing Il Canto degli Italiani.
Time to order a Birra Moretti and settle in for kickoff.
20:49—The match is off to a cracking start. De Rossi
unleashed a rocket from 50 yards out that arced past Joe Hart and off the post.
At the other end, Milner threaded a cross into a scramble. Glen Johnson
eventually latched onto it and Buffon did extremely well to paw it away. The
bar is hopping…hopping mad that is. “Merda”, “Cazzo”, and even “Minchia” can be
heard as De Rossi meets the iron. There are at least a dozen other Italian
versions of “Scheiße!” that I can’t catch and hence can’t write down.
20:54—English fans can be heard singing “God Save our Queen”
in Kiev. The Südstadt Italians attempt to drown them out with an effort of that
song I can never remember the name of. Football fans from all countries sing
it. It goes something like this:
“Whoa…oh,oh,oooh,oooh,…oh
Whoa…oh,oh,oooh,oooh,…oh”
Sigh. Yes, this is poor journalism, but I honestly don’t
know what it’s called.
20:59—Hodgson clearly stipulated that Glen Johnson and
Ashley Cole should act as wingers. Both have been hustling forward in ways even
Lahm wouldn’t dream of. Were it not for some incredible work on defense from
Leonardo Bonnucci and Ignazio Abate, this match could easily be 2-0 Lions. The
action-packed pace hasn’t slowed down a hair. I haven’t even had time to take a
sip of beer or even so much as glance in the direction of the girls.
21:05—Finally the tempo slows up a bit and both sides settle
in for some more methodical attacks and/or cherry picked counters. Time to take
a few swigs and see if the girls have any interest in having their picture
taken. Whether it’s my barely there Italian or their complete and utter lack of
understanding of either English or German, the message that I’m just a lowly
tourist looking to capture some color on film fails. They pose as if they’ll be
in tomorrow morning’s paper. Their boyfriends leer with the stink eye. Uh-oh. I
foresee a change in venue come halftime. Best-case scenario this all ends in
tears. Worst case it ends in jail.
21:17—The Italians continue to chip away at the English
defense. Andrea Pirlo is conducting the flow from midfield, distributing well
out to the flanks and even getting a few balls forward. He finds Balotelli in
space around the 27th. It’s John Terry to the rescue with a flailing
last-minute block. The consensus within the culture club appears to be that
Balotelli should have scored.
21:24—It’s Balotelli in space again for a 34th
minute chance. This time Cassano squarely for him but he can't find the handle.
The Wops are restless.
21:32—41st minute and Balotelli has now missed a
hat trick of fine chances. This time Pirlo finds Cassano with a full switch
cross, which Cassano in turn heads back across toward Balotelli. The header is
a bit of a floater, giving Joleon Lescott enough time to re-position himself
for a jabbing tackle once Balotelli gains possession. Unprintable racial slurs
are to be heard. Yeah…..time to thank my new friend Gennaro for the ride,
settle the tab and get the hell out of here.
21:36-21:56—Carnival atmosphere out here on the street. It’s
Italy day. The city has foreseen how wild things will get and hence there’s a
rather hefty police presence. I swap a few remarks with the on-duty guys and
gals. “What sort of crazy are we in store for?” The likes of which you’ve never
seen, Herr Weis.
21:57—This pizza parlor will work. The crowd seems cerebral
and jovial. While I’ll have no time to sample one of the mutant portions, the
aroma will suffice. I duck my head in to make sure there’s no Eros Ramazzoti
music being piped in. None. Excellent. Sold. Let’s enjoy the second half.
22:02—52nd minute in Kiev and….what the fuck just
happened? Within a few chaotic seconds, Balotelli, Montolivo, Marchisio, and De
Rossi all had looks at goal and registered a shot. In addition to pure luck,
Joe Hart exhibits some fine keeping. A reliable English keeper. Never thought
I’d see the day.
22:05—The crowd vociferously applauds as Steven Gerrard
slips to fall flat on his face, ruining an otherwise promising Lions attack.
I’m afraid it’s not looking good for St. George. An Italian goal seems
inevitable and they’re fucking up in that trademark English way.
22:10—Finally Balotelli gets some love from the crowd after
engineering a cheeky little bicycle that whizzed inches wide. Why never him? A
couple of Italian Youths debate the merits of his play while their girlfriends
look off into the distance. I consider joining the debate, but catch the
waitress for a refill order instead.
22:13—Pirlo finds De Rossi with a gorgeous switch. While it
wouldn’t be an easy opportunity by any stretch, the Roma midfielder could have
done much better than to first time it into the twelfth row. Now the guys are
bitching about De Rossi. I look over to see if the girls are getting involved
and make inadvertent awkward eye contact. Fuck. I hate it when that happens.
Where the hell is my beer?
22:16—Ashley Young might have done better as well. After an
elegant hour plus of top class football, it looks as if the players are tiring
out and losing their touch. Of course the real tragedy at this juncture
concerned the fact that my beer had not yet arrived.
22:22—Some more exquisite defensive tackling by Ignazio
Abate. Bookie scrawls down a lame-o gag in his notebook. “His defensive prowess
will not abate! Hehehe. Get it? Because his last name is “Abate” and the
English verb “to abate” means, “to subside”. Get it? GET IT? Yes…by this time
my beer had arrived and I had taken a healthy quaff. The bad ideas were
flowing.
22:33—Again it’s Terry to the rescue, this time off
Marchisio. He appeared to be finally be in as good a form as before the racism
scandal.
22:34—Christ, Rooney! THAT WAS THE GAME. By what logic did
you arrive at the decision NOT EVEN TO ATTEMPT an aerial challenge?
22:38-22:47—The Italians do everything they possibly can to
avert extra time. Diamanti forces Joe Hart into an acrobatic save. Glen Johnson
tackles away from Montolivo at the last moment. Rooney gives us a final
flourish with a sweet bike, but we’re off to extra time. The girls have not
been able to re-join the animated male-dominated conversation and are now
staring at me. Time to go. Best-case scenario it all ends in tears. Worst case
it ends in jail.
22:48-22:50—Off into the street to stand
shoulder-to-shoulder with the Azzuri faithful and they peer at the public
viewing screen. Balotelli tries to ingest some Gatorade before the advent of
extra time, yet spews it all out as one of his teammates conveys a funny joke.
Guess he needed a laugh after those 90 minutes. A special support staff tends
to the legs of Terry, Rooney, and Johnson. Heavy massaging going on as they try
to prevent them from cramping up.
23:01—Balotelli fires the first salvo of the added period.
Man, is this guy ever going to be a beast. He’s all of 21-years-of-age. He’ll
be scoring goals in these tournaments for another decade or more.
23:03-23:08—Three more quality chances for the Azzuri before
the first period of added time comes to a close. Montolivo and Pirlo have
played a whale of game, but are now too exhausted to provide the crisp finish.
Buffon pumps his first emphatically. A close up of him reveals he’s painted his
neck blue. I attempt to ask a bystander if he’s always done this in Italian,
but am so tipsy it comes out in German. He doesn’t understand. I then try
English before we both settle on some conversational French. Nothing came out
of it as we both fumbled for words before agreeing that we should resume
watching the game.
23:14—And we have a goal! Nope. It’s offsides. The street
eruptions in elation until I tap at least twelve guineas on the shoulder to
point out the flag.
23:15-23:23—Diamanti and the Azzuri push hard for the win.
Almost no English possession down the stretch. We’re off to penalties and I
already know who’s going to win.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
An ex-girlfriend would later write me to convey a harsh
truth: (paraphrasing) “The Peter Weis I know tries something out for a little
while, then arbitrarily concludes that it will all end in tears before running
away to hide.”
OUCH! Christ did that one every hurt ; ( No one knows you
like your former lover. That’s too inherently (not to mention pathetically) sad
to comment further upon.
From the Quarterfinals Section:
“The
“coach who shall not be named” did a decent enough job steering them out of a
surprisingly weak group. Now he must, ABSOLUTELY MUST, get them past the Wops
in 120 minutes. The Three Lions don’t do shootouts. Should the game come down
to penalties, go ahead and pencil the Azzuri in for the Semis.”
23:25-23:30—There was hope for the Limeys in the beginning.
Gerrard and Balotelli swapped conversions before Rooney and Montolivo split the
difference. The Lions were 2-1 ahead going into the third round. Then of
course, the two Ashleys had to fuck up. Ashley Young struck the bar while
Ashley Cole keeps a weak effort on the ground for Buffon to collect. Pirlo,
Nocerino, and Diamanti made no such mistakes. Hugs, cheers, and fireworks all
around
23:31-??:??—Time to join the parade. If there’s one thing
the Italians are capable of, it’s driving around a 4 square mile radius all
night long flaunting themselves. I counted 323 unique cars, four of which I was
invited to ride in. I only saw two of them collide. Pretty decent accident
ratio for the Italians. With the po-pos standing guard the rowdy celebrations
remained peaceful throughout. A violent thunderstorm rolled into town as the
two o’clock hour approached. The steady downpour didn’t stand a chance of
dampening anyone’s spirits. Yes, I’m about to quote that Adele song again. We
set fire to the rain! By the time I’d had enough, there wasn’t a tram going
anywhere. An hour-long schlep through the unrelenting split-sky raindrops….with
an Adele song stuck in my head. No complaints. It was all worth it. The semis
are here. Hard to believe, but there’s even more fun waiting.
--How many fucking times did I tell you that Milner wasn’t
going to work? Grrr…had “the coach who shall not be named” only listened to me.
From the Preview Section:
“Milner
lacks Lampard’s mobility and gusto. I’ve watched him shuffle his hulking frame
around, seemingly doing his best to be a non-factor in the match for three
Premiership Clubs now. He failed win me over at Aston Villa, Newcastle, and
finally Man City. Physically he looks as if he should be every bit as
celebrated as Steven Gerrard. Somehow he just fails to inspire.”
From the Day 4 Recap:
“What
did I tell you about Milner? WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT MILNER? I shall tell you
what I…er…told you about Milner. Sorry, it’s late.
Did I
tell you or did I tell you…or did I tell you? Fuck, I’m tired.”
From Round Three:
“No
Milner. As limitless as his physical potential may be, he’s already had years
to prove himself. It’s over. Let him go.”
From the Quarterfinals Section:
“He’d
be even wiser to dump Milner for Walcott. I see no reason why the latter switch
won’t commence. If I see Milner in the starting eleven, I’ll know we’re doomed
once more.”
Dammit. What the hell is this? I point out the obvious to
you FOUR times, and you don’t listen! Why won’t you listen? I’m a haughty
individual of average intelligence who believes it my solemn duty to tell you
what to do…and…oh dear lord I’ve become my father. NOOOOOO!!!!!
--The “coach who shall not be named” implemented none of the
recommendations many of us were screaming at him. He started Young, Parker, and
Milner while keeping Walcott, Downing, and Oxlade-Chamberlin on the bench. He
didn’t give Jones or Leighton Baines a shot. In spite of his poor lineup
selection, he got the substitutions spot on. Carroll for Wellbeck in the 60th,
Walcott for Milner in the 61st. The pair of swaps was well timed to
shake things up in the final half hour. Henderson for Parker in the 64th
was another move that got me excited. All three should have, by all accounts,
added some sort of extra dimension to the game. Alas they were duds off the
bench. Should have started them, Roy! Once the Azzuri get rolling, there
remains little one can accomplish in the way of mitigation.
--Prandelli listened to us. He kept Balotelli in for the
full 120. After coming agonizingly close a solid eight times, he buried his
spot kick to get the Wops off on the right foot. Nocerino proved a smart
selection. How to rest Chielleni without invoking controversy? Invent an
injury! Perfect. Why didn’t I think of that? By Jove, Abate, Barzagli, and
Balzaretti rose to the occasion. They didn’t have to switch back to the 3-5-2
after all. Way to dump Giacherreni, Motta, and Maggio. Ya did good, son.
--Sorry, Lions fans. You know we have to do this. It will be
quite painful, but it’s necessary. We must fully chronicle the failures of your
boys in shootouts. In what will surely be a first, I must reprint a passage
that I’ve already run above.
From the Quarterfinals Section:
“The
“coach who shall not be named” did a decent enough job steering them out of a
surprisingly weak group. Now he must, ABSOLUTELY MUST, get them past the Wops
in 120 minutes. The Three Lions don’t do shootouts. Should the game come down
to penalties, go ahead and pencil the Azzuri in for the Semis.”
Fight the urge to look away. This must be done.
England,
1966—Hurrah, hurrah. A short 36 years after the World Cup was
first conceived, the country that invented the sport could claim its first
crown. Obviously, there would be more to come.
Italy, 1968—Way back
when, the Euro qualifying process weeded out all but four teams, who would play
four matches to determine all four places. The Three Lions made it all the way
to the final four along with Italy, Yugoslavia, and the Soviets. They were
assigned the weakest out of the four. C’mon now. The Limeys wouldn’t lose to
Tito’s crew, would they? Not until the 87th minute. It’s okay. You
were only two years removed from a World Championship. No doubt you’ll contest
again in two years.
Mexico, 1970—The
Lions nearly hold on for a shootout, but are eliminated by Gerd Müller’s Golden
Goal in the 108th minute. Müller was playing for this curious
country called “West Germany” back then. It seemed of little consequence. The
English had won the World Cup just four years prior. Surely they would be
back
Italy, 1980—Don
Revie ran this team into the ground. The team couldn’t make it to the Euros in
either 1972 or 1976. Here they couldn’t even make it out of the group, drawing
against the Belgians and losing against the Italians. A thrilling win over the
Spanish proved too little, too late.
Spain, 1982—Shockingly,
the Lions failed to qualify for both the 1974 and 1978 World Cups. No matter.
They were back and picked as favorites to emerge past the Second Group Stage.
That is, until they failed to score one single goal against either West Germany
or Spain. The “Second Group Stage” system was widely lauded as the fairest way
of sifting out the teams that just couldn’t perform. Pity.
Mexico, 1986—After
ceding first place in the group to the Moroccans, the Three Lions recovered to
trounce Paraguay in the Round of 16. Then came the quarterfinals and Maradona’s
“Hand of God”. Let’s move on. So he cheated. Your second major title couldn’t
be that far off. You can’t be cheated forever.
Germany, 1988—Doesn’t
get much uglier than this. The Irish beat them. The Dutch had their way with
them. The Soviets had them bend over. Ugh. Welcome back to Europe, Limeys. Now
back to your diseased little Isle.
Italy, 1990—All the
way to the semi-finals to face the West Germans. Yes indeed. Fate had finally
been kind to you. You blazed your way through the Round of 16 and the
Quarterfinals. Linenker even scored a dramatic equalizer in the 80th
minute to send you into overtime against the Krauts. You withstood the West
German onslaught for a full half hour to earn the shootout. Then, of course,
Pearce and Waddle missed in a flukish fashion there was nothing more to do but
lament the heartbreak of random elimination. No cause for concern.
HOW MANY
SHOOTOUT LETDOWNS MUST ONE COUNTRY ENDURE? (1)
Sweden, 1992—They
scored no goals against either France or Denmark. Fortunately for them, neither
of those countries scored a goal either and the Lions were still in contention
after successive 0-0 draws. Fortunately for them, David Platt scored in the 4th
minute against Sweden. Unfortunately for you, the Swedes scored two more in the
second half. It’s death at the bottom of the group. Rest in peace.
England, 1996—Thirty
years after the coveted capture of the World Championship, football came home once
more. So did a reunified Germany. Stefan Kuntz’s equalizer stood and we were
headed to penalties. In the first 5-5-penalty shootout I’ve ever witnessed,
Andreas Möller finally out-dueled Gareth Southgate in the Sixth Round.
HOW MANY
SHOOTOUT LETDOWNS MUST ONE COUNTRY ENDURE? (2)
France, 1998—The
tears of the failed 1994 American qualifying campaign had long since fallen.
This Lions squad had just barely failed to best the Romanians in the group
phase and was still favored to take revenge against the Argentines. Early goals
from Alan Shearer and Michael Owen had the Lions sure of the quarterfinals ten
minutes in. Sadly, Javier Zanetti equalized in first half injury time well
after the whistle should have been blown. Gabriel Batistuta also dove for a
penalty in one of the most poorly officiated matches of all time. It all came
down to penalties, where a spectacular denial of Herman Crespo gave you
hope….until Ince and Batty missed as well. It’s okay. Shootouts are just a
random crapshoot. The odds have to give in eventually.
HOW MANY
SHOOTOUT LETDOWNS MUST ONE COUNTRY ENDURE? (3)
Belgium, 2000—They
beat the Germans! They also lost to the Portuguese and the Romanians. Looks as
if the Group Stage is the graveyard once more.
Japan, 2002—Don’t be
concerned about the Swedes barely eking out the top spot in the group. All that
means is you have to face the Danes in the Round of 16. Oops. It also means you
have to square off against the Brazilians in the quarterfinals. Cheerio!
Portugal, 2004—Back
to the quarterfinals. Rui Costa scored a definite game-winner in the 110th,
only for Frank Lampard to tie it all back up again in the 115th. Rui
Costa and Beckham then traded misses during the shootout. In the SECOND
5-5-penalty shootout I’ve ever witnessed, the English surely had to put 1996 to
rest. Right? WRONG! Keeper Ricardo scored, and then saved Darius Vassell.
Oh..no.
HOW MANY
SHOOTOUT LETDOWNS MUST ONE COUNTRY ENDURE? (4)
Germany, 2006—In
what was easily THE worst officiated game of all time, the Portuguese somehow
held on against you for a shootout. Frank Lampard, Jamie Carragher, and Steven
Gerrard couldn’t ALL miss, could they?
HOW MANY
SHOOTOUT LETDOWNS MUST ONE COUNTRY ENDURE? (5)
South Africa, 2010—Lampard
has the equalizer. Surely! The ball crossed the line! Wait a minute…are you
telling me that ALL FIVE officials missed it somehow? That can’t be possible.
The Ukraine, 2012—After
briefly taking the shootout lead, both Ashleys fail and the Wops move on.
HOW MANY
SHOOTOUT LETDOWNS MUST ONE COUNTRY ENDURE? (6)
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Infinite sadness. I’m so glad I’m not a Limey!
Goodbye yet again, Mother England. You’re 0-6 after 120. You
might think it can’t possibly happen again, but I went 0-11 against the spread
at the beginning of this tournament.
--Professor Pete still finds himself miles away from tenure.
Naturally, that has nothing to do with his sub par intelligence and everything
to do with the personal insecurity he projects upon and unto his colleagues:
Italy
Gianluigi Buffon
|
A+
|
Andrea Pirlo
|
A+
|
Mario Balotelli
|
A
|
Antonio Cassano
|
A
|
Ignazio Abate
|
A
|
Andrea Barzagli
|
A
|
Leonardo Bonucci
|
A
|
Frederico Balzaretti
|
A-
|
Alessandro Diamanti
|
A-
|
Antonio Nocerino
|
A-
|
Ricardo Montolivo
|
B
|
Danielle De Rossi
|
B-
|
Claudio Marchisio
|
C+
|
Christian Maggio
|
D+
|
England
Glen Johnson
|
A+
|
John Terry
|
A
|
Joe Hart
|
A
|
Andy Carroll
|
A-
|
Joleon Lescott
|
B+
|
Jordan Henderson
|
B
|
Danny Wellbeck
|
B-
|
Wayne Rooney
|
C+
|
Steven Gerrard
|
C
|
Theo Walcott
|
C-
|
Ashley Cole
|
C-
|
Ashley Young
|
D+
|
Scott Parker
|
D+
|
James Milner
|
D
|
--For the first time in ten years, there were no MAJOR
upsets during the quarterfinal round. A thrilling finish awaits syndicate
brethren……
