EM 2012--Round Three

Dzien Dobry Syndicate Members,

Party on, football fans. Viva la “Golden Boot” candidates:

1) Alan “Dynamite” Dzagoev (3 goals) 

Where, oh where, did this magnificent cat come from? Looking forward to seeing you in a Man City uniform next year, kiddo.

2) “Marvelous” Mario Gomez (3 goals)

My bad for making fun of your hair. Stylize it all you like so long as you keep exercising that ultra deft touch.

3) Mario “Megaman” Mandzukic (3 Goals)

His homeland fans may be a disgrace. But he’s top class. He won’t be returning to Wolfsburg. You heard it here first.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

In less than two weeks, Mandzukic was snatched up by FC Bayern München. You heard it hear first, gentlemen. What a pity that this all comes down to a few overpaid individuals watching television. 

4) Niklas “The Bomb” Bendtner (2 Goals)

Always underrated. Arsene will have you back before the loan agreement is up.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

While Arseal didn’t end up recalling Bendtner, they terminated his loan agreement with Sunderland and sent him over to Juventus. A partially accurate prediction.

5) Cesc “Fabulous” Fabregas (2 Goals)

Still think three midfielders up front absolutely won’t work, Roja ramblers? How does one explain this, then?

6) “La Fuerta” Fernando Fernando (2 Goals)

Do it up, Chelski rent boy. Kicking ass once again like we’d all been waiting…and waiting…and still waiting for you to do over the past two years. Welcome back Torres.

7) “Venomous” Vaclav Pilar (2 Goals)

Watch out. He’ll sting you even if the rest of his team leaves something to be desired. He’s already earned himself a ticket out of the Czech League and into the Bundesliga. Sting a few more times, Vaclav, and a Serie A team will fork over the cash.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

The club willing to fork over the cash turned out to be VfL Wolfsburg. They needed a replacement for Mandzukic. 

8) Olaf “Malevolent” Mellberg (2 Goals)

Well, the nickname rather sucks, but the former Juventus and Aston Villa center-back is tearing shit up at the tender age of thirty-four. Not content with merely scoring a brace this evening, he produced game saving tackles on Wellbeck and Gerard breakaways. Christ almighty is he good. Okay. Up to the minute breaking news. Mellberg’s first has been taken away and Glen Johnson credited with an own goal. I’m not erasing this section, in part because I am too tired.

These goal sharks have us gliding into Round Three of a thrilling tournament. Expect more goals, more suspense, my late-drama, and more tricks during the final all-or-nothing push. With eight final group games on the slate, we’ve got but two countries to bid adieu to.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

Mellburg ended up earning a stint over at Villareal. Even old guys can occasionally be worth a rent. Go figure. 

Preliminary goodbyes section

Republic of Ireland

As predicted, we all knew the curtain would fall before the final standings were penciled in. I’ve devoted hundreds of fond words for the Paddies in my Dailies. Here’s a sample:

From The Day Seven Recap:

Keep smiling. Keep shinning. Keep drinking. Keep singing. A genuinely touching scene as we ere serenaded by a unified Spanish and Irish choir. Hand in hand. You’ll never walk alone. If only the team had performed as well as these fans. In the midst of the worst Irish recession in a generation, they spent their own money to travel to Eastern Europe and drink with the boys. Were they bitter as the first tournament appearance in a decade degenerated into a debacle? Fuck no. They came to drink and sing regardless of the outcome. Happy drunks.

We love ya, Micks. Come back anytime. Since we’ve already covered their sheer unadulterated awesomeness, let’s indulge in a brief discussion of where the Boys in Green are headed. Trappatoni remains under contract until the end of the 2014 World Cup. The FAI will certainly not fire him, not after he elevated this meek squad all the way to the Euros. Likewise, Trap appears unlikely to resign. He’s far from finished and most definitely doesn’t want to return to Germany, Switzerland, Austria, or his home country. Hence, it looks as if the partnership will continue for at least another two years.

2014 will prove EXTREMELY difficult to attain. The Irish find themselves drawn in a group that features both the Germans and the Swedes, with room for only two to advance. Moreover, it appears unlikely that the core stars of the team can hang on for another 24 months. At thirty-six years of age, Shay Given is finished. Keiren Westwood cannot fill his boots, so you’re on the hunt for a new keeper. Richard Dunne, John O’Shea, Keith Andrews, Damien Duff, and captain Robbie Keane are also likely kits up. Trappatoni may be a superb motivator, a shrewd tactician, an expert judge of talent, and even a keen substitute selector. One thing one cannot label him is a “re-builder”. He’s not proven adroit at incorporating new talent into a squad and introducing new players. This was perhaps his major failing as the Italian head coach. Stubborn sage that he is, he’ll stick with his boys through thick and thin. Unfortunately this means we won’t be seeing the Irish in Brazil. At least another four years until Erin hangs with us. Keep this in mind when watching the final match.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

At present, the Irish find themselves tied for second in their group against the Austrians. It’s not quite time to give up hope yet! The Germans will top the group. Still, there’s a chance. 

Sweden

Now, this IS a surprise. Adios Hamren and the parsimonious Ibrihimovic. Feel not sorry for these perpetual qualifiers. They’ll best Ireland to make the grade for 2014. The entire squad will be back. Perhaps even Mellberg and Wilhelmsson. Hardly worth wasting space on these salutary Scandinavians. Shed not a single tear. Their fate was well deserved. Ibrahimovic is nothing more than a narcissistic ball hog. Why do you think Inter, Barca, Ajax, and Juventus were willing to part with him? 

The Swedes on the other hand, are all but finished. Even a rejuvenated Ibrahimovic can’t save them. It’s all over, Blaugults. See you in 2016!

Addressing the Promised Mailbag

A full length, Simmons-style Mailbag is in the works. For now, time constraints preclude us from presenting the full Monty. I’d love nothing more than to tickle your drive with some light foreplay, but this project is best presented as a whole.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

Addressing the promised “Election Mailbag”: It’s in the works. Sifting through the election e-mails, I can assure you it will taste much sweeter once two years have passed and we all see how patently stupid everyone behaved. ; ) ; 

Time to rank the remaining countries

1) Spain

Off and running. Up, up, and away like a giant red balloon. Wait a second. That was a French movie, no? A damn depressing one if you ask me. Anyway, we don’t even need to engage in the debate over the midfield axis or natural striker. This team is so insanely talented that their place in the Semis is essentially assured.

2) Deutschland

Auf geht’s, Jungs! No stopping flight director Schweine. Cut his ankle off if you must. He’ll hobble along the pitch better than most of the two-legged players. The distributor for all three Gomez goals, would anyone care to imagine where we’d be without Schweine? He’s a warrior through and through. Khedira and Özil also direct traffic with precision. The trio turns the midfield into Dulles airport on Thanksgiving weekend. They dictate the pace, decide when and where everyone will land, and can launch a few flights of their own. NASA doesn’t have these engineers. No stopping us. We’ll see you in the Semis.

3) Russia

Told you Dick and the boys were mortal. Kerzhakov, Zyranov, Arshavin, and Pavlyuchencko drank away all of their running nutrients after that Czech thumping. They should have enough water to run their Krebs cycles in the final match…and advance to the knockout stages.

4) Czech Republic

Told you these dudes were waaaaay better than the Russian match would have indicated. They control their destiny as well. Barring a rare spot of Polish luck, we’ll be drinking Pilsner Urquells come Friday.

5) Portugal

Unfazed by the narrow German defeat. Unperturbed by the pesky persistence of Niklas Bendtner. Undaunted by Ronaldo’s latest slump. Undeterred by a whiff with the left foot. Unimpeded against the Danes. Uninterested in writing in complete sentences. Welcome to the Quarterfinals Navigators. Never doubted you!

6) France

You’re on your way, boys. Credit Laurent Blanc with some fantastic work on the training pitch. The Bleus team that decisively spanked the Ukrainians was infinitely more aggressive, displayed excellent aerial ability, and threaded in those crosses with pinpoint accuracy. Never doubted my Froggies for a second. No meltdown this year.

7) England

What a twist! Three top tier strikers in Rooney, Wellbeck, and Carroll. And we still haven’t even gotten to Defoe. A leader finally emerges in Gerrard. A budding star finally blooms in Walcott. Solid performances turned in by Terry, Ashley Cole, and even Scott Parker! I won’t mince words: time for ALL of us to get excited.

8) Italy

Relax, Dagos. You’ll “grease” your way on through just like you always do (except 2010). The wops are a well-lubricated bunch. Balotelli, Cassano, Di Natale, or Pirlo will have a career game.

9) Croatia

Want to know what I think of the Croats, do you? Well, I could spare myself some hatemail while simultaneously mercifully shielding those who don’t follow the Dailies. Or I could do this:

From the Day Seven Recap:

Fuck you, you puerile tablecloth-clad fucktards. You’re useless. You Slavic sacks of shit! Nothing more than an embarrassment to football, yourselves, and the human race in general. Cart your smelly Slavic arses the hell out of this EM. You can get the fuck out of NATO, the UN, and any other civilized inter-governmental organization while you’re at it. Fuck your EU-Membership bid. You make the Greeks look responsible. You want to behave like a bunch of disorderly children?  Do it in own shitty, squalid, foul, and detestable homeland. You were guests of the Poles this week, just as you were guests of the Germans in 2006. Still you continue to throw your burning road flares onto the pitch. Do you also take a steaming shit on someone’s dinner table when they invite you over and cook for you? Wouldn’t put it past such detestable, disgusting savages such as yourselves.

What the Slav-stenching fuck is wrong with you morons? You ignore the appeals of your own players. You deny them an offensive counter as they disappeared into the smoke. You hold on to a ball shot into the stands, further depriving your boys of a chance to score a go-ahead goal. No more, Mr. Nice Kraut. You want road flares? I’m going to “invite” myself over to your country to burn every last one of your shitty hovels to the ground.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

I’ll stand by this. Throwing flares on the pitch? Get lost, losers. 

10) Poland

You’ve managed to hang around with two draws, one hard won, the other a result of your own indolence. Time for a little Shawshank moment: “If you’ve come this far, maybe you’re prepared to come a little further.” Are we up the challenge, Polska?

Editor’s retroactive notes:

Evidently not. 

11) The Ukraine

Don’t despair pretty Ukrainian girls. You might yet beat the Three Lions. Of course you might be short Tymoshuk and Voronin and they’ll have Rooney back. Okay, perhaps it is time to despair. Just a bit.

12) Denmark

And thanks for playing! We told everyone that you had what it took to claim a scalp in the Group of Death. Now if you would—polite cough—I mean…it’s late. I could put on some old Beatles, but there’s—not so subtle yawn—quite a bit to do tomorrow. Have to—another not so subtle yawn—take the kids to their play date and the kittens to the vet. Have I mentioned it was really great to see you? One of the things I love the most about you is your ability to take a hint. Yes, sir. No one takes a hint like my good friend the Danes. That’s why I invite you over so frequently. You’re the hint-takingest hint-takers of all the hint-taking countries I know.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

This illustrates how an opening round victory can easily mean absolutely NOTHING!

13) Greece

Haven’t you done enough damage? You broke the hearts of the Poles, you allowed the Czechs back in, and you’ve got the Germans all grouchy. Sure they’re a bunch of Sour Krauts to begin with and it’s not as if the whole thing was really your fault. Look…it’s just…it’s just—not so subtle stifled yawn—it’s just late. Have to mow the lawn tomorrow. Have I told you they’re shitting bricks down at the office? Not sure what I’m going to do about lunch with Brenda in the afternoon. I may have to cancel because of how swamped I am. Damn, I’ve got to make time to see the dermatologist about this rash. I think the wife and I were supposed to be picking melons this week. Please, let me give you the complete catalogue of my aches and pains. The back in particular is killing me. Wait, where are you…hehe. Mission accomplished.

Editor’s retroactive notes:

Isn’t it a shame how we fob off people, even countries?

14) The Netherlands

You deserved better. No question. From second place at the World Cup Finals to the biggest flop in all of European Championship history. I feel for you, my Dutch brothers. From a true German to the pretend Germans

From the Day Six Recap:

--Hey “Flying Dutchmen” fans:

Don’t be taken aback. I’m not like the other German fans; the ones that bum rush your fan section, throw empty bottles at your corner kicker, and release tailored TV ads specifically aimed at you:

From Media Markt (German circuit city): “Watch the EM 2012 Final match on a Television…just like the Dutch players.”

Yeeeeouch. Way to kick a crippled kid when he tripped over his own crutches. Sorry, Hollanders. You really deserved better

Only one matter of business to attend to before heading on to the lines

My Updated Stats

Spread: 3-13

Straight up: 4-7-5

Snicker all you like as I laugh all the way to the bank.

All lines are calculated personally by your friendly bookie Vicey….the hardest working hobby-writing loser you’ll ever meet. “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 Jennifer Aniston Romcom. 

Saturday

Czech Republic vs. Poland

 vs. 

Gunners keeper Woijech Szczeny returns, giving Bialo-Czerwoni a fighting chance to beat back the revamped Czech attack. Smuda’s main adjustments were to move Obraniak out to the left flank and move Murawski up behind Lewandoski while ditching Rybus for Dudka. Astonishingly he stuck with Boenisch, Perquis, Wasilewski, and Piszcech at the back even their calamitous collapse against the Greeks. The play of the defensive quartet improved slightly, if only because it couldn’t get much worse. That’s the somewhat uplifting news. In somewhat more foreboding news, all four have played the full 180 minutes and must certainly be tiring out. Smuda would be wise to start Wojkowiak or Warwzyniak to avoid falling behind early. At an absolute minimum, keep them and Kaminski warm for a possible desperate first half substitution.

The Rybus-Dudka-Murawski-Obraniak reshuffling failed to work any real magic, making the midfield lineup difficult to project. Rybus may get a second shot. Perhaps it’s even time to throw young wunderkind Rafal Wolski into the water to see if he can swim. Other options include Mierzejewski or Matuszczyk, neither of who did much besides politely trot as late substitutions in the Russia match. I say give the kid a gentle pat on the back, tell him he can be a hero in his country’s biggest match in forty years, and hope for the storybook headlines. Lewandowski, Blaszcykowski, and Eugen Polanski remain incredibly talented players who can handle all of the finishing. This midfield simply needs a new face and some fresh legs to get something going. The kid will play a minor role, and Smuda can even sub him out early if either the captain or Dortmund’s center forward get grab a lead.

Were the Poles facing the Greeks again, the 12^th man composite of the Warsaw crowd would easily be enough to tip them over. Sadly, they face a Czech squad that looks to have found their formation. Bilek put Jiracek on the left wing and switched Pilar over to the right. Venomous Vaclav Pilar is joined by two other menacing threats: Thomas Rosicky and Jaroslav Plaisil. One can hardly consider Milan Baros much of threat anymore, but he can still turn a few decent balls into an insurmountable advantage.

Ohhh…I want to push my button. Alas, I just can’t do it Polska. A dramatic victory would have little effect anyway. You’d just be set up for an anticlimactic drubbing from the Germans in the quarterfinals. Maybe we just clap for the boys.

THE LINE: Pick em’

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Czech Republic 1, Poland 0. Smuda neglected to employ any changes, and his designated A-Team initially repaid his faith with some legitimate early offensive pressure. Blaszczyykowski expertly pounced on a loose clearance to set up Lewandowski with what was sure to be the opening goal. In a reflection of his overall discouraging tournament, however, the Dortmund striker sent the ball into the stands. Obraniak, Boenisch, and Polanski also generated promising efforts, but the hungry trio could only manage to shave the woodwork. The Red-Whites, motivated by a charged crowd and spectacular lighting storm overhead, left in all on the field for the initial half-hour. The patient Czechs seemed content to let their opponents tire out and play the long game.

Milan Baros, stating in place of the injured Thomas Rosicky, took time before adequately into the lead striker role bestowed upon him. It wasn’t until late in the first half that he could be seen patrolling in front of the let attempting to stab at loose rebounds. Billek’s boys clearly required a fresh set of ideas after the break, but time remained on their side.

The Polish eleven looked positively exhausted as play resumed. Perquis and Wasilewski came nowhere close to containing Kolar, Plaisil, and Hübschmann. Piszczech and Boenisch didn’t have enough lift in their legs to pour forward, and even struggled to mark their defensive counterparts when back on their heels. Smuda substituted out the certifiably spent Eugen Polanski in the 56^th, but the rest of his squad couldn’t respond to this minor impetus. Sivok, Gebre-Selassie, and Limbersky made a mockery out of the Polish midfield, slicing through them with reckless abandon.

The Czechs finally broke the deadlock in the 72^nd with a clever little piece of chicanery. Hübschmann connected with Baros across the line onside for a brilliantly timed counter. The former Merseyside star acted as if he aimed to shoot all the way, luring Tyton out to challenge him. At the last possible moment, he off-loaded to a slightly-marked Jiracek, who didn’t hesitate to care out enough space to leave Tyton without a chance.

Smuda immediately burned his remaining two substations. Pawel Brosek and Adrian Mierzejewski did figure into the last ditch effort to salvage the dream that ensued over the next twenty minutes, but it was Wasilewski who came closest with a wayward header. Otherwise, a surprising lack of urgency led the crowd to begin shedding tears with an entire ten minutes left to play.  

Russia vs. Greece

 vs. 

Sokratis and Avraam return for the double “papa-punch”. Katsouranis moves back up to his natural midfield position. We’ll likely see the better rested Gekas and Ninis back in the starting lineup as Fourtonis and Fotakis succeeded only in playing all “fucked-up-is”. Vasilas Torosidis will retain his starting position at right back, but only because Santos has no other options. His only option now involves telling him, “STOP ball-watching you lazy fuck!” Kyriagos gets dumped as well to make room in what will be a much-improved back four. 

It won’t be nearly enough. Advocaat has too many weapons at his disposal and one simply has the sense that he will concoct a delectable recipe. Kerzhakov and Arshavin may have dipped slightly, but their fundamental form looks good. Pavlyuchencko off the bench works well. Will we see Pogrebnyak? Vicey believes we shall. Perhaps Shemshov too. Kokorin and Izmailov to boot. Old Schwanz Befürworter finds himself in the kitchen cooking up something special. Another rout is in store.

THE LINE: Russia + 2 Goals

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Greece 1, Russia 0. The Greek defensive corps, bolstered by the return of Papastathopolous, closed ranks time after time to deny the Ruskies any real chance at backup keeper Michel Sifakis. In a decidedly ugly and sloppy match, To Piratiko emerged victorious after frustrating Arshavin, Kerzhakov, Zhirkov, and Palyuchencko, themselves looking tired if not devoid of ideas.

As is the custom in Third Round matches, all four countries kicked off simultaneously. This would not deter your multi-tasking friendly bookie from watching both fixtures in concert. Nevertheless, it remained burdensome to keep one’s eyeballs on this match with the Poles fighting for their lives in front of their own fans. The game featured five bookings along with a plethora of amateurish play. Dzagoev and Arshavin essentially flipped the script by reversing roles. Dzagoev help up his end of the bargain, controlling the flanks well and supplying a few inviting crosses. All Arshavin could reciprocate with with a few tepid lashes that exhibited zero pace.

It was if both Arshavin and Pavlyuchencko abruptly returned to the mid season form that saw their respective clubs drop them. The Greeks secured the lead in the second minute of first half injury time via a weak defensive header from Sergei Ingashevich. The “man of iron and steel” failed to steer the ball completely away and Greek captain Giorgios Karagounis hustled to retrieve. Panatinaikos’s talisman would then swing back around and arc in a bowing shot a lead the Greeks wouldn’t come close to relinquishing.  

Initial Group Projection (5/27/2012)

1) Poland 

2) Czech Republic 

3) Russia 

4) Greece 

Final Group Projection (6/15/2012)

1) Russia 

2) Czech Republic 

3) Poland 

4) Greece 

Editor's Retroactive Notes:

Final Standings 

1) Czech Republic 
2) Greece 
3) Russia 
4) Poland 

Sunday

Portugal vs. Netherlands

 vs. 

Grab a seat and get comfy for Bert van Marwijk’s farewell game. Through the Oranje ran into a Mongolian clusterfuck of lousy luck, the former Dortmund trainer shoulders most of the blame for this fiasco. He made one change against the Krauts, subbing in the once again fit Mathisjen for Vlaar. Actually…that doesn’t even count as a “change”, since he merely brought back the original starter. Idiot. No seat or swap for Robben. No chance for Kuyt or van der Vaart in place of the slumping De Jong. Not even a slightly altered position for a van der Wiel in desperate need of some confidence. Fool. I inferred that Robben and Afellay were actually playing striking roles against the Danes. I was completely wrong. They were specifically instructed to hang back and stay out of van Persie’s way. No consideration to Schaars or Bouhlarouz. Jan Huntelaar substitution without a formation change. Holding off on Kuyt until the 83^rd. So long, Bert. Have fun coaching in the UAE.

Van Marwijk would be capable of considering a bit of ambitious tinkering yet, but his side technically still has the slimmest of chances. This bookie says go for it. You’ve already lost your job. Why not go for broke? For the second time this week, switch to an unorthodox 4-1-3-2 and trust van Bommel. Bring in Bouma and Bouhlarouz. Start Jan Huntelaar!

Not that any of it will matter. Paulo Bento had good reason for sticking with his starting eleven. He has every reason to do so again. Ronaldo will not slump forever. This may very well be his breakthrough match. Though he may want to sit either Postiga or Meireles to avoid double yellows, Varela or Quaresema are capable of stepping up. Nani and Moutinho can also pick up the slack. The Dutch will fight hard for their pride…until a Nani brace and a Ronaldo set piece compels them to say “fuck it” 

THE LINE: Portugal + 1 Goal

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Portugal 2, Netherlands 1. Van Marwijk opted to go for broke when piecing together his lineup. He re-jiggered to underperforming 4-2-3-1 into a novel-looking 4-1-1-3-1 that shuffled de Jong back as a sort-of fifth defensive back. Rafael va der Vaart’s role would be to direct traffic as a holding midfielder. Robben, Van Persie, and Sneijder were tasked with midfield flow-management as well. They primary obligation appeared to be finding big target man Klaas Jan-Huntelaar, who was deputized to start as the lone true striker.

The innovative experiment reaped immediate rewards, even before van der Vaart’s opening goal in the 11^th minute. To say that the Oranje enjoyed the Lion’s Share of early possession would constitute a ridiculous understatement. Van der Vaart’s might of well had the ball attached to his right boot with a piece of twine. With all manner of sleek tricks, he slid past Moutinho and Meireles to set up Van Persie and Jan-Huntelaar for quality early chances. In the 11^th, he spontaneously decided to have a go himself, curling in a sensational long-distance strike for one of the tournament’s most gorgeous goals.

The dazzling effort failed to serve as a conduit for the rest of play. Ten minutes later the Cristiano Ronaldo show commenced. Perhaps motivated by van der Vaart’s slick tricks, Ronaldo showed us some fancy moves of his own. He scissored past Gregory van der Wiel to unpack a booming effort that struck the post in the 18^th. He then full-snapped a viscious header that surely bruised Stekelenburg’s ribs a few minutes later. Joao Peirira finally switched him in a neat ball in the 24^th. The Madrid Superstar took two lustrous touches before calmly sliding in the equalizer. Ronaldo, Nani, and Postiga then proceeded to pepper Stekelenburg mercilessly until the halftime whistle blew.

Van Marwijk stood pat as Ronaldo picked up precisely where he left off after the restart. With Robben and van Persie firmly in panic mode, he had no problems exploiting the abandoned van der Wiel, Vlaar, and De Jong up the left flank. After drawing these three away, he provided clean set-ups to Postiga, Nani, and Fabio Coentrao, all of whom would have scored had Stekelenburg not turned in such an inspiring performance.

Fittingly enough, the winning tally would belong to Ronaldo himself. After carrying the ball the length of the pitch, he laid back for Nani. After Nani briefly lost possession, he rounded out the premeditated give-and-go with a heel back to Ronaldo. Ronanldo himself would then execute a flawless first touch to shift the ball over to his preferred right foot before toeing it in. Game over. Despite some late half-chances from van Persie, van der Vaart, and Jan-Huntelaar in the remaining fifteen minutes, Ronaldo generated the only genuinely frightening scoring chance. Were it not for the goal post, we would have witnessed a hat trick.  

Deutschland vs. Denmark

 vs. 

With an official quarterfinal clinch still on the line, I’m pleased to report that I can disseminate a high line. Löw will be unable to start too many of the backups. The prediction of moving Hummels outside and giving Mertesacker Boateng’s place holds. Özil likely needs a break so it will either be Götze or Reus. It might be prudent to sit Badstuber as well to prevent a double yellow suspension. Löw has his pick of Schmelzer, Gündogan, or Höwedes, all of whom can fill his role aptly without jeopardizing the German defense. Poldi, Gomez, Müller, and Schweine are due for a break, but look for them to start and be substituted at the first available opportunity.

Under cross-examination, the nameless girl who declared Joachim Löw “very attractive” attributed the allure to “his crisply laundered shirts”. Got that fellas? Find some room in the budget for a reliable Dry Cleaner. Keep those button ups starched heavier than a McDonald’s addict on a French Fry bender. Since the advent of the Jürgen Klinsmann era, the German head coach has worn an ultra stiff blue or white dress shirt for every match. That’s our uniform. Evidently, we know how to please the ladies.

Morten Olsen usually sports some pimpin shirts as well. Unfortunately he doesn’t have much of a team left. Zimling, Rommedahl, and (reportedly) Jacobsen are hurt. Eriksen, Kvist, and Lass Schöne might have a little flourish yet in store for us, but this one will be over quicker than Javier Bardem’s air gun to the forehead. Quick and painless Danes.

“I need to you hold still.”  

THE LINE: Mannschaft +2 Goals

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Germany 2, Denmark 1. And thus the magical Summer reached its apogee. This isn’t to say that there were not plenty of more thrills in store. Your friendly bookie merely remains uncertain that it ever got as good as this. This one had it all: Dramatic end-to-end action, a substitute’s heroic tale, great friends, and a fairy tale finish.

The story begins with Lars Bender, a Leverkusen prospect who had spent most of his career lurking in the shadow of his twin brother’s (Sven’s) fat Borussia contract. Both brothers began their careers at the Youth Academy of TSV Brannenburg. If you have no idea where in the hell that is, don’t worry. It’s hardly significant. They graduated in tandem, first earning looks at SpVgg Unterhaching, then eventually landing at TSV 1860 München. Paralell to these developments, the twins also moved up the ranks of the national squad, from the U17, to the U19, and finally to the U20 team. It wasn’t long before they both began earning caps for Joachim Löw at the very top. Their paths diverged in mid 2009, when Sven secured a transfer to perennial German powerhouse Borussia Dortmund while Lars, struggling with injury, still drew matches with 1860 reserves.

To even imagine what matters might have felt like in the Rosenheim household of the talented twins is trying. At one point (circa 2006) Lars appeared the more promising prospect. Two years later, Sven found himself slightly ahead. Lars surged briefly after the advent of the new year, but 2009 closed with Sven clearly displaying more potential. By no means down and out, Lars attained his own Bundesliga promotion with a transfer to Bayer Leverkusen. Still, Jupp Heynckes saw fit to relegate him to the Youth Squad on three separate occasions.

To say that Lars struggled with some serious adversity would be unfair. He and Sven remained neck-and-neck. While both brothers play primarily in defense, Lars also possesses potential as an attacking midfielder. He fought his way into the first team Bayer squad in 2011, this despite the return of Michael Ballack to his former club. Nevertheless, with both brothers on Joachim Löw’s roster on Final Cut-down day, many assessors (including this one) thought Sven to be the favorite. He had proven himself a force to be reckoned with during Dortmund’s second consecutive Bundesliga Championship. The Germans found themselves thin at the back. Lars may have had a great year scoring-wise, but looked too inconsistent for a Löw lineup.

Not only did Yogi select him, he also carefully groomed him for pressure action with a late substitution in the Netherlands match. When faced with a choice to replace the suspended Jerome Boateng, Löw didn’t flinch in selecting the budding midfielder over more natural fullbacks like Höwedes or Gündogan. The move left more than a few of us at Peter Weis’s ramshackle bar scratching our heads. Before long we’d be smacking them in deference to Löw’s brilliance.

The Mannschaft stormed out of the gate, with Podolski and Özil orchestrating a fantastic chance for Müller, who only missed out on a 5^th minute opener after a few nanoseconds of hesitation enabled Andersen to reposition himself. Three matches into the tournament, Real Madrid teammates Meshut Özil and Sami Khedira finally opted to began working together. Together they obliterated any chance Zimling, Kvist, and Jakob Poulsen had of exerting any midfield presence. The eventual 19^th minute opening goal, however, had little to do with their domineering prowess and everything to do with the consequences of a relentless assault.

Randomly flinging shots and crosses near the net  can often produce something totally unexpected. A quick throw-in was gobbled up by Thomas Müller, who quickly ascertained that he had Gomez, Poldi, and Schweine in the box waiting. Müller took his time drawing in the defense as he moved into the edge of the area and fired a cross towards no one in particular. In this instance, it pinged off Gomez and landed directly at the feet of Podolski, who showed not the slightest hint of indecisiveness. The Fatherland took a much-deserved lead.

The Danes drew level within six minutes with the type of set-piece play they had clearly been honing on the training pitch. Niklas Bender delivered a brave header to flick Christian Eriken’s corner on to Michael Krohn-Dehli, who tapped it in with his own impeccable header. The Mannschaft sprang back into action. Özil and Khedira resumed their wizardry. The midfield dominance would prove to no avail as the first half ended in stalemate.

The war of attrition continued until the hour mark, when Poldi and Müller came within striking distance. Löw strove to alter the tenor by substituting in Schürrle. The Leverkusen man clicked with his teammate Bender almost immediately, and the Krauts once again dominated possession until roughly the 70^th. At that point, the Danish Dynamite began taking advantage of Löw’s break play. Jakob Poulsen engineered a tantalizing opportunities with some skilled forward momentum. J. Poulsen had earlier provided us with a scare after hitting the post early in the half. Bendtner again burst through the German defense to stir up a few minor heart palpitations.

In spite of such insignificant stings, faith in our Mannschaft never really wavered. A winning goal would certainly be forthcoming. As it turns out, the “Jogi Bären” were playing their own distinctively Kraut-version of the “Rope-a-Dope” all evening long. Bender had been inserted to cherry-pick an opportunity as soon as the Danes had enough confidence to send half of their defensive corps forward. With Krohn-Dehli committed, Bender battled hard to snatch up a loose ball. After tackling away, he then proceeded to run the entire length of the pitch in anticipation of a return. At the end of this sparkling individual run, he claimed an Özil center too long for the laggering Miroslav Klose.

LARS BENDER! Indescribable! He initiated the break, then galloped downfield like a doped-up racehorse until he could finish it! TOOOOOOOOR!

It was time to say some heartfelt goodbyes to some very dear friends, old and new. After giving the beleaguered bartender who shared my name a hefty slap on the back and even stronger man-hug, I hopped in the car and headed back to Karlsruhe. All the back to my father’s generational home, I honked the horn loudly and screamed “LARS BENDER!!” at every last passerby. EVERY LAST ONE waved back, offering either a “DEUTSCHLAND!”, a “AUF GEHT’S JUNGS!”, or an old-fashioned “WHOOOO-HOOO!” back.

Upon arriving in Karslruhe well past the Witching Hour, I looked for my father in his home office. His chair was empty. Papers were piled up on every corner of the desk Opened books laid predictably strewn about, opened face downward so he wouldn’t lose his place. Half-baked ideas for mathematical proofs lay half-scribbled down on pieces of graph paper. Just as I had expected, a marathon work-session had understandably been cut short. I found the old man on the couch, watching the recap with a smile so jacked up you would have thought he hadn’t spent a second of his evening frantically preparing his lecture. There was only one thing to say,

“LARS BENDER!!”

The laughter and embraced that followed proved as unforgettable as the goal itself.   

Initial Group Projection (5/29/2012)

1) Netherlands 

2) Germany 

3) Portugal 

4) Denmark 

Final Group Projection (6/15/2012)

1) Germany 

2) Portugal 

3) Denmark 

4) Netherlands 

Editor's Retroactive Notes:

Final Standings:

1) Germany 
2) Portugal 
3) Denmark 
4) Netherlands 

Monday

Croatia vs. Spain

 vs. 

Hello rude, juvenile, and putrid-smelling flare throwers! Guess who’s NOT coming with us? Yep. That’s right. Cart your pungent, hairy asses back to Zagreb. With everything to play for, La Roja will crush you like the indolent cockroaches you are. Spain has a REAL team with REAL fans. They also happen to be a REAL country, not a case of the former Yugoslavia’s genital warts. Luka Modric, Nikita Jelavic, Niko Kranjcar, Mario Mandzukic, Daniel Pranjic, Eduardo, Dario Srna, Ivan Rakitic, and Verdran Corluka are all world-class top-flight players. Such a shame that they’re supported by sub-human pieces of garbage!

Beyond the obnoxious fans, plenty of other reasons why Bilek’s Boys stand no chance. The 4-4-2 sucks. Del Bosque can start Torres, Fabregas, Llorente, Pedro, Negredo…look he can start 85-year-old Alfredo Di Stefano. It won’t matter. Pound-for-pound, La Roja punches harder that Joe Louis in his prime. They’re well on their way to contesting for their third consecutive title and will tear the exhausted trio of Vukojevic, Corluka, and Shildenfeld like it’s a hymen. This team could rip a phone book in half. Those three have played the full 180. They’re nothing more than a sheet of paper ripped off a Mead notebook. Strinic and Perisic are finished as well. Fabulously done, Bilek. You cooked your team. Get the fuck out of here and take your flares with you. 

THE LINE: Spain +3 Goals  

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Spain 1, Croatia 0. Money, money, money, money……MONEY! Give it up for the O’Jays and the TSOP, Gentlemen. Thank you. Thank you very much.

Yet again, a simultaneous kickoff necessitated that I divide my viewing time.  I devoted significantly less time to this fixture, even if it ended up being the moneymaker. Billic tried his hand at tactical genius, scratching Jelavic to start Mandzukic alone up front. Forfeiting a second striker so as to tighten up his defense was a reasonable enough response. He could only cower in fear after La Roja’s myriad of offensive weapons ripped the Irish apart. Bettors adopted a similar mindset, and the stagnant, sputtering game caught everyone but your friendly bookie by surprise.

Billic’s 4-5-1 stymied the anxious Spaniards throughout the first half. Torres couldn’t quite penetrate in the same manner he did against the Irish. Xavi Alonso was perpetually frustrated by the disciplined defending of Corluka and Vida. If anyone provided highlight-worthy footage, it was Daniel Pranjic and Luka Modric of the Tablecloth team. The duo the reflexes of Casillas with superb second half efforts that left one inclined to believe…albeit for a pithy few minutes.

A draw would have served del Bosque and his crew well, but Fabregas had other plans in mind. Approximately fourteen minutes after being substituted in, he again showed us all how hungry he was with a blistering individual run. Having himself been frustrated by Croat keeper Stipe Pletikosa in the initial minutes after his introduction, he diversified and found Iniesta on the overlap. Iniesta then spotted Jesus Navas making a aligned lateral run and fed him for the 88^th minute winner.  

Republic of Ireland vs. Italy

 vs. 

“The Republic” as spoiler? Nah. It’s a mere formality. The Floppin Wops will claim their first victory, pulling off their patented cheating if they must. I reiterate (for those of you who skipped over the Preliminary Goodbyes Section) that this will most certainly be your last chance to cheer on the Boys in Green on a meaningful stage for over four years. Make plans to swing by your favorite Irish pub and spent a special evening with the lads. Sing until the final whistle blows and sing louder as the Guineas engage in a Roman orgy on the middle of the pitch. Sing even louder as they reach for more lube. Sing louder still when Buffon piles on top.

No reason for Trappatoni to make any serious changes. His best eleven stands and deserves a last farewell before the curtain drops. Might as well keep it competitive. Likewise Prandelli will once again trot out the unique 3-5-2, substitute Di Natale for Balotelli around the 60^th, pull Motta early, yawn. No need to follow this one too closely. Just concentrate on having a great time.

 

THE LINE: Italy +1 Goal

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Italy 2, Republic of Ireland ). Money? What money? Who here speaks of money? The Wop contingent erased their losses (and would later go on to sink me for more cash) with a flash of set-piece brilliance from veteran Antonio Cassano and a blossoming effort from rookie Mario Balotelli.

Prior to his 35^th minute cracker, Cassano the A.C. Milan international thumped an effort directly into Sean St. Ledger’s mid-section and then recovered impressively to feed Antonio Di Natale on the wing. Udinese’s talismanic striker would have converted, had St. Ledger not recovered equally as nicely to get in the way.

Cassano would redeem himself less than a minute later with a sharp header off an Andrea Pirlo corner.  Despite the loss of Giorgio Chelleni ten minutes into the second half, the Wops pushed the Micks wide, where their subpar skills never looked like they might produce a goal. Matters appeared long settled before Keith Andrews was thrown off on double-yellows in the 89^th. Substitutes Alessandro Diamanti and Mario Balotelli combined for another goal off a corner one minute into injury time to settle matters for good.

Your friendly bookie always takes a hit when the Wops win. This time it at least he could garner solace in the elimination of the Croats.

Initial Group Projection (5/30/2012)

1) Spain 

2) Italy 

3) Croatia 

4) Republic of Ireland 

Final Group Projection (6/1/2012)

1) Spain 

2) Italy 

3) Croatia 

4) Republic of Ireland 

Editor's Retroactive Notes:

Final Standings:

1) Spain 
2) Italy 
3) Croatia 
4) Republic of Ireland 

Tuesday

England vs. The Ukraine

 vs. 

Tune in for this one, if only out of morbid curiosity. The co-hosts face elimination, squaring off against a surging Mother England that has already engendered more excitement than any Three Lions squad in recent memory. Make or break time for “The coach who shall not be named”. Before him stand a set of decisions that I would be perfectly content to die without confronting.

1) How to fit in Rooney?

Eton only knows. Wayne’s World doesn’t work unless he’s the lone striker. Moving Wellbeck back to short-striker and starting Carroll was an innovative solution, but does one really want to ditch Andy after his magnificent showing? I fear “the coach who shall not be named” has little choice. Drop Rooney and the fans will lynch him. The only plausible solution is to keep Carroll warm and teach “lil Wayne” to feign injury if he fails to find his touch. One can only keep faith in Mr. Hairplugs for so long. A place in the quarterfinals hangs in the balance.

2) Start Walcott?

Should be a no-brainer. However, we’ll see how Theo feels tomorrow. He twisted his ankle and, although he was able to recover, such a sprain never really manifests itself until the morning after. Should he be unable to go, a return to Milner must be ruled out. Try Henderson. Downing, or maybe even a second chance for Oxlade-Chamberlin. No Milner. As limitless as his physical potential may be, he’s already had years to prove himself. It’s over. Let him go.

3) What to do about Glen Johnson?

I say let him work it out. The tabloids will say otherwise. Ignore them if possible.

4) Can Joleon Lescott log the minutes?

He has to. T’would be nice to give him a break, but you can’t afford it. Leighton Banes doesn’t have the caps either. Ditto Phil Jones

I’ll be pulling for you, islanders. Just like I always do, even when I’ve bet against you. Best of luck to you. Secure your date with the Spanish. Wait a sec….

THE LINE: England +1 Goal

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: England 1, Ukraine 0. Without Shevchencko, the co-hosts never really stood a chance. Ukraine’s superstriker began the match sidelined by fluid buildup in his knee. By contrast, the Three Lions began the fixture über-stacked, thanks to the return of Wayne Rooney from suspension. Yarmolenko, Devic, and Konplyanka did their utmost to fill the void, but were continually impeded by a miserly English defense.

Rooney’s involvement essentially began late in the first half. Steven Gerrad and Ashley placed balls within his “Danger Vicinity”. Unfortunately, he whiffed on the former’s free kick and sent the latter’s pinpoint cross wide of the goalmouth. As the first half drew to a close, Yarmolencko again attempted to compensate for his country’s glaring deficiencies with a pair of efforts that forced Joe Hart into full-sprawl.

Such heart-and-soul exertions would prove all for naught. Rooney could be afforded a few miscues after his long absence. Three minutes after the restart he connected cleanly. Captain Steven Gerrard capped what was already a formative group stage with a lovely little floater that ping-ponged around in the box until Rooney could get his hands on it.

Gerrard and Rooney nearly combined for a second after the man from ManU picked the offside trap in the 55^th. None other than Yarmolencko scampered back to provide the vital tackle. On the other side of the pitch, John Terry cleared a Devic rebound off the line in a second half that featured plenty of gasps.

Faced with little alternative, Blokhin brought on the not-fully-fit Shevchencko in the 70^th. His introduction injected yet more pace into an already frenetic contest with plenty of action. All the way down to the wire the two sides fought hard for their quarterfinal place. Plenty of creativity and plenty of entertainment. Sadly, there wasn’t another goal to be had. 

Sweden vs. France

 vs. 

Even more target practice for Ribery, Menez, Benzema and Nasri. Blanc not only worked his boys hard in camp, he also made some truly brilliant moves like dropping Malouda for Menez. Brilliant in that I recommended them, mind you. Finally, we’ve got a coach that listens to a blogger who’s 3-13 with his own spreads. I kid Blanc of course. He’s taken a team led by an astrology enthusiast and turned it in to a cohesive assembly line inside of two years. Against the Swedish reserves, the Boys in Blue will easily top the group and become the fashionable pick to reach the semifinals. With the increasing likelihood that the Germans and Spanish will face off in the semis, don’t be surprised if they make it all the way to the championship match. Keep up the good work, Froggies.

THE LINE: France +2 Goals

Initial Group Projection (6/1/2012)

1) Sweden 

2) France 

3) England 

4) The Ukraine 

Final Group Projection (6/15/2012)

1) France 

2) England 

3) The Ukraine 

4) Sweden 

Editor's Retroactive Notes:

Final Standings:

1) England 
2) France 
3) The Ukraine 
4) Sweden 

GENTLEMEN, ENTER YOUR WAGERS

Editor’s retroactive notes:

RESULT: Sweden 2, France 0. Not that it mattered, but the Swedes treated us to one helluva farewell show. Kim Källström did some magnificent work in central midfield. Ola Toivonen got a look at striker, playing admirably. He nearly grabbed a goal in the opening minutes. Larsson furnished a few sublime opportunities as well. Toivonen again made a run at goal later by rounding past Phillipe Mexes, yet only leaving himself an acute angle.

Ibrahimovic’s successor produced a fine first half. Still, only “the man” himself could break the deadlock. Ibrahimovic left his feet in order to tricycle in a Sebastian Larsson cross in the 54^th. Mellburg, Mexes, M’Villa, Giroud, Benzema, Ribbery, Diarra, Svensson, Nasri and Wilhelmsson all had their looks at goal before we reached the end of normal time. Larsson would grab the last word, however, crushing a rebound that Samuel Holmen whacked off the post in the 91^st.

Again, it wasn’t the “Match of Interest”. Entertaining enough to deserve more looks than one might expect nonetheless.