привіт, вітаю, syndicate members,
Great tournament thus far, and it just keeps getting better. I can tell by the quality riffs that you’re enjoying it a much as I am. The Dutch provided the flair while the Danes supplied the shock. Tonight’s Ukrainian upset only enhances the intrigue. Took some time for the Krauts and both Iberian squads to get rolling, but did they ever click when the moment arrived. The Wops, Croats, Ruskies, Micks, and Ukrainians have verified their entertainment credentials. The Poles, Czechs, and Swedes have their backs against the wall. Jury remains out on the Frogs and the Limeys. We’re all together once again, football fans. Reunited and it feels soooo damn good.
We’ve all swapped so many riffs over the first four days
that I fear for the functionality of this year’s third keyboard. Keep lighting
up those keys, brothers. Distance hasn’t stopped us this far. My apologies if
the time difference and sheer volume sometimes leaves me backlogged. You may
always count on me getting back to you as quick as I can. Whether you happen to
be one of my new friends or one of my oldest and dearest, you’re ALL extremely
important to me. No messages will ever be lost. No barb will go unanswered.
It’s our time and we’re just getting started. If you haven’t checked in yet,
please consider doing so as you’ve plenty of time yet. We shall not cease until
a new European champion is crowned.
Collecting all the cleverness makes for a fine hobby. It’s
also time I shared some of your intellect with this new random Internet
audience. Chill, chill. As always, no names. Discretion is our watchword. Your
friendly bookie remains the only jackass with the gall to striptease for the
world. Hopefully, I can scrounge up enough time to complete a serviceable
mailbag section by next round. If not, well…we’ll get there eventually.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Obergefreiter
Vicey shall never stray from the Prime Directive. This I unequivicollary assure
you.
Whew. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Let’s rock some
stats.
My Updated Stats
Spread: 0-8
Straight up: 1-4-3
Bwahahahaha. Thanks to all of you who have sent me
impassioned pleas NOT to pick your country. What can I say? Guess I just don’t
have it this year. Ten years of positive stats have to come crashing down at
some point
Let’s rank our countries
1) Russia
Even Udaltsov must be proud of his land. The Ruskies are #1..and not in lung cancer deaths, liver cirrhosis, or pub brawls. I’ve no clue which family member the FSB had to kidnap to light the fire under Arshavin’s ass. Kerzhakov, Zyryanov, and Shirokov also enjoy a revival. Even Pavlyuchencko elected to show up (guess the whorehouse was closed). This Dzagoev kid came out of nowhere. All of them will be back at top European clubs next season. Put Ignashevich, Berezutski, and the rest of the Russian back four in Bolotanaya Square. No one’s getting past them, not even the piggies.
How could I have ever doubted you, Schwanz Befürworter? For
your Russian swan song, you’ve composed yet another masterful ballad. PSV tops
the Eredivisie next season. Can’t say I approve of a team nicknamed the “Boers”
finishing higher than my beloved Ajax “Jews”. Oh well…life is what it is.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Sergei
Udaltsov runs Russia’s “Left Front Movement”. He was repeatedly arrested for
organizing protests against Vladimir Putin in the Spring of 2011 and 2012…in
the event you were wondering.
2) Denmark
Just how significant was the Danish Delight? They’re now at even odds to advance out of the “Group of Death”. The “Danish Dynamite” are back! The most significant victory for the Legoliers since 1992. Twenty years after taking Europe, it’s not entirely impossible they might do so again. If they survive this group anything remains possible, even a Rehhagel Run through the group stages. The Danish Football Association showed tremendous patience with Olsen, refusing to part ways even after his gang failed to qualify for two consecutive tournaments in 2006 and 2008. Next up for the legend: The Navigators. Can an underdog Cinderella knock off the mighty Portuguese? Er…well it has been eight years.
3) Spain
Relax, Amigos. La Roja look in sync, controlling the flow and turning some spiffy tricks. That’s the strongest Spanish debut we’ve seen since 2006. Sure they beat the Russians 4-1 in 2008, but this team looks even more dangerous. The Iniesta-Fabregas-Silva Axis is a pure stroke of genius. Much more on that in the Match Section. Shame you ran into some lousy luck against the Italians. I blame Felipe and Letizia merely because…..well just because I hate the Spanish Royals. How much higher will unemployment have to rise before you guillotine these losers?
Anyway, the Furia Roja Powder keg will explode shortly.
You’ll top the group and you can take that to the bank…so long as it’s not
Bankia or Santander. Hey HO. Another joke so lame it belongs in a Leno monologue.
I’ve got to get control over this. Spanish readers must think I’m the biggest
hack since Pedro Salinas. Hey HO!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Pedro
Salinas was a Spanish Poet who composed nauseating sonnets back in the 1920s.
Again…merely “FYI”.
4) Deutschland
Abwehr looking good. Torwart looking very good. Mittelfeld looking…eh…we’ll say good. Sturm looking good. Gauck looking good. Gauck’s girlfriend looking good. All systems go. Take em’ out, Jungs! We are the good guys-- this is routine-- taking them out neat and clean!
Meh. Hardly an inspiring victory, but very few glaring
weaknesses to identify. From the Dailies:
--Plenty
of surprises in Löw’s starting eleven. I was taken aback to learn that
1)
Birthday boy Klose would make way for Mario Gomez.
2)
Matt Hummels would take Mertesacker’s place.
3)
Schweine was even walking, let alone starting.
4) Löw
would keep faith in Poldi over Reus.
In Löw we trust. He’s got a plan. Now if he would only stop
picking his nose on camera.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
The
line “We are the good guys—this is routine—taking them out neat and clean” is
lifted directly from KMFDM’s “Take em’ out”. Christ, Vicey, are these
retroactive notes or academic footnotes? Good question. Well…they’re not
written in either MLA or Chicago Style, so that should serve as answer enough.
5) Portugal
With Group B looking more fucked up than my office when I’m facing duel deadlines, the country with the easier path forward must be ranked higher. The Danes have the entire international betting circuit looking strung out and wan, sitting hunchbacked in a sad dark hovel of a room strewn with empty cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, half-eaten sandwiches, balled up sheets of paper, various sheaves taped to the wall “A Beautiful Mind” style, and a stack of at least ten pristine backdated newspapers that keeps falling over. Now I forgot the point I was meant to be making. Oh right. In a half-assed attempt to restore some order to this group, I back the Navigators to coast the rest of the way thanks to an easier schedule.
6) Croatia
Nice win. Hold on. Let me rephrase that. “Way to actively watch the Irish implode.” I’m afraid I cannot allow you to advance out of this group. If I see one more of those road flares, I’m off to Baumarkt to buy a bulk pack, hopping the next train to Zagreb, and jamming a triplicate fistful of them directly up the anus of the first slothlike lardass wearing a checkered pattern I run into. There go the hate circuits. Just in time too.
7) Italy
Grrr…how dare you hand me my fourth fiscal disaster of a tournament only three days old? What the hell is Di Natale doing still scoring goals?! Why hasn’t someone taken that Pretty Boy Buffon out by the shins yet? Why can’t Mario Monti keep the bond yields down? Oops. How did I let one slip in? I’m not sure, but I’m fairly certain it was YOUR FAULT. Everything is your fault. Anyway, you should be on your way to the quarterfinals. Congratulations….you fucking greasy Wops. I will have my revenge…in another round. To be continued…..
8) France
Gutless, chicken-hearted, and craven deserters! Useless, chickenshit, and fainthearted surrender monkeys! COWARDS!!! COWARDS!! COW…ach du Scheiße. Alles klar, Frau Schwarz. Ich bin doch der Besitzer. Mir darfst du nicht raus schmeizen!! Es ist mire scheiß egal wenn du etwas zum beklagen hast?!?
Now where were we? This fucking team’s nuts better drop
soon. Blanc’s 4-5-1 is far too timid. It might work better if he started Menez
in place of Diarra. Then again, what the hell do I know? I merely spitball
after I’m done with more serious work. I do know that what I just witnessed was
a pathetic display of worthless COWARDS!
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Once
upon a marrow, Frau Schwarz was my downstairs neighbor. Have some sympathy for
her. Living below me is about as easy as living beneath a caged tiger.
9) England
Sorry Lions fans, but a moral victory just doesn’t do it for you. We’ve yet to determine who will replace Rooney in the Sweden stinker. Moreover, we need to put someone other than Milner in front of Glen Johnson. What the Wellbeck selection lacked in tact it more than made up for in courage. Ditto the Oxlade-Chamberlin start. We’ll need yet more of it to move Gerrard up to Young’s position, ditch Milner for Henderson, ditch Parker for Defoe and start Wellbeck alongside Defoe. Or we could just have a nice warm cup of tea. Just be sure we don’t stray too close to the “Long, Dark Teatime of the Soul”. It’s a long way to Brazil 2014. Now’s your chance. Lose and you’re done.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
“The
Long Dark Teatime of the Soul” was a novel that….oh fuck it…if you haven’t
cannibalized ALL of Douglas Adams’ books your life remains in complete. Look it
up for yourself.
10) Ukraine
Portugal 2004: The Navigators are felled by Rehhakles and the Greeks.
Switzerland 2008: Die Schweizer bow before the Czechs
Austria 2008: Das Team allows the Croats to push them around
Poland 2012: The Poles squander an early lead, letting the
Greeks of all people draw them.
Ukraine 2012: Finally the curse is broken. Zbirna pull off a
staggering upset to grab the group lead.
Should we be excited for Shevchenko and the Zhovto-Blakyni?
Beyond all doubt. Should we consider them contenders? Beat back the Frogs
first.
11) Sweden
Tough loss, but it gets easier from here on out. Saw enough from Ibrihimovic, Larsson, Svensson, Elmander, Källstrom, Rosenberg, and Mellberg that I’m not ready to throw the towel in just yet. All you have to do is beat either England or France, neither of which showed me much of anything beyond perfunctory football on this day. Do or die looms.
12) Netherlands
Oh, it’s bad. A draw against the Krauts does them very little good. We could be sending these goofball Germans off on a sightseeing tour as early as Wednesday. As encouraging as that baker’s dozen of near misses can be interpreted, Robben finds himself in the midst of an existential crisis. The Dutch being a tight-knit group of strange birds, the hex appears to be virally spreading around the locker room Avian-flu-style. For the record, I remain terrified and not wholly convinced that the real Germans will prove victorious on Wednesday. Were I not trapped into betting on my own country, I might even bet the Dutch. Hell, just as a contingency I might run over to the betting parlor and plop down the cash now. Until we pass midweek, however, they’re out of the elite eight.
13) Greece
Blah…blah….blase. Thanks for the most boring match in the tournament thus far. You’ve also bestowed upon us the tournament’s ugliest goal (Salpigidis), the only officiating controversy (Sokratis), a wildly gesticulating goat herder with a uni-brow (Karagounis), and the most standoffish fans I’ve ever seen (personal experience). Last round I implored you to buy a Greek a drink and forgo the EFSF joke. I retract this call to a random act of fellowship until I cross paths with a Greek that doesn't bare his teeth at me.
14) Poland
They blew it. Christ did they ever blow it. The best opportunity they’ll ever receive handed to them on not a silver platter, but a DIAMOND-ENCRUSTED PLATINUM ONE. They blew it. My word did they ever blow it. I re-christen them “Blown-it Czerwoni” and rue the day I elected to open this book with a supportive line. Cursed by the Poles. How sad. Once the Dark Horse candidate to top the group, now the Poles aren't going anywhere after they face the red-hot Ruskies. FUCK! They do this EVERY year. Why can you NEVER win one of the first two games?!?
15) Ireland
Keep singing. Keep smiling. All throughout the hard days to come.
“Sinne Fianna Fail,
ata faoi gheall ag Erinn”
“La gean ar Ghaeil, chun bais no saoil,
Le gunna screech faoi lamhach na bpilear,
Seo libh canaig amhran na bhfiann.”
Gaelic is so beautiful. It is ABSOLUTELY over, though. Enjoy
the spectacle while it lasts. You’re toast. You had to at least draw Croatia to
have a prayer.
16) Czech Republic
Alright you miserable failures. I’ve taken the liberty of planning out the duration of your expensive vacation:
June 13th – Breslau’s Centennial Hall is a UNESCO
World Heritage sight. The Cathedral, University, and Old Jewish Cemetery are
also a must. Check out the Multimedia Fountain, the Museum of Architecture, and
the Wroclaw Palace before wrapping up the day over at the Piast Brewery.
June 14th-16th—You’ll have to make it
back to Breslau on Saturday, but why bother staying to practice? YOU OBVIOUSLY
DIDN’T BOTHER BEFORE!! I propose popping over to Krakow to for a tour of Wawel
Castle with a brief visit to the Czartoryski Museum. From there it’s a quick
hop over the Ukrainian border to romantic Lemberg. Spend a sun-drenched
afternoon ruminatively wandering the cobblestone streets of the old town,
rounding out your day toasting champagne while savoring the gorgeous view from
the High Castle.
Obviously you won’t to miss Kiev, so grab a flight early
next morn. Take a bit of time to marvel at the botanical gardens, but not TOO
much. You’ll still want to give the WWII Museum a look before heading back to
Breslau with a quick stopover in Warsaw. Kickoff isn’t until 20:45, giving you
plenty of time to peruse the Zacheta National Gallery before letting the Poles
gain their meaningless victory.
Le sigh. No, I don’t work for Lonely Planet. After being the
only imbecilic moron I’m aware of to back the Czechs in the first round, I do
actually feel like the loneliest guy ON the planet.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Never
get tired of writing the “Travelouge Bit.” You’ll find some
incarnation of it in every last Syndicate.
Before rocking the lines, we’ll have to dust off last year’s
disclaimer. It’s about that time; time for the hatemail to begin trickling in
that is. No worries here. As always, this big boy can take it. Some of it’s
even fairly witty and delectably snarky. Nevertheless, I must remind everyone
that we’re merely having some irreverent fun and it’s only a game:
All lines are calculated personally by your friendly bookie
Vicey….the “never sorry” Ai Wei$ Wei$. 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 DVD Box set of “The Vampire Diaries”
Tuesday
Greece vs. Czech Republic
vs. 
Let’s revisit an outrageously stupid question posed in the Preview Section:
“Why the enigmatical fuck is everyone so down on the
Czechs?”.
Surprise, surprise. No clue what I was talking about. I’ve
since had the question more that definitively answered. DEAR LORD, this team is
terrible. Atrocious performance from Kadlec, Sivoc, and Sealssie. Lethargic
efforts from Hübschmann, Rosicky, Barros, and Jiracek. What can I say? I
honestly thought the recent fine form of Rosicky and Jiracek would carry over
into the tournament. I honestly thought we’d see Polak and Stajner. I
honestly…..look, I’ll level with you: I honestly fucked up. Pure and simple.
They will play better, but that says about as much as a pledge to ONLY drink
six glasses of scotch in place of one’s usual ten.
No quick fixes for “Billek’s Boys”. The bench lacks enough
depth to replace much of the back four. Marek Suchy, David Limbersky, and
Fransiczech Rajtoral have but 11 caps between them. Selassie, Hubnik, Sivok,
and Kadlec will have to stay put. Selassie could potentially be subbed out, but
he played harder than any of the others. Doubtful we’ll see either Rezek or Hübschman
after the two thirty-year-olds fell flat as left-wing tag team. Petrzela or
Kolar might serve as adequate replacements, but a total formation overhaul is
more likely. The 4-2-3-1 failed abysmally. With benching Baros a non-option,
look for Billek to move Rosicky up front and start Thomas Necid for a
three-striker front. A revamped 4-3-3 will charge out with all the desperate
attacking intent that the Narodak so badly require. It all comes down to the
first twenty minutes for the Czechs. This is their final and they won’t go down
without a fight.
But can they succeed, Vicey? You bet your feta-munching ass
they can! The Greeks lose Sokratis to suspension and Avraam to injury. Their
entire inner defense is wiped out. Gekas, Samaras, and Ninis have thus far been
able to get nothing going offensively. Salpigidis will be back for more, but
Katsouranis and Karagounis have not yet demonstrated that they can still dazzle
in midfield at their advanced ages. Speaking of advanced ages, Salpigidis is
another has-been who might find himself unable to keep up with the younger
Czechs. Sorry, Gentlemen, but I’m making it a pick. Not quite ready to buy into
this incarnation of “To Pirakito”, I must postpone the phone call to my Greek
cousin, übersalesman Viceis Papapeteros. As an, albeit, somewhat “cop-out”
consolation, I offer a reformatted reprint of the now cult conversation from
the 2004 Sportsbook.
Viceis:
‘ello?
Peter:
Hi Viceis! Your German cousin here.
Viceis:
Ah, my friend, my friend, my very much good friend. I haif some very good nice
special specials for nice very special good friend of mine today. You want
special very today a-ok filling meal? Very special lamb, hummus, and feta for
good special friend? Fill you up nice and special. Ok for friend special you
today?
Peter:
Er..maybe later. I was actually looking to buy in to the Greek football
team.
Viceis:
Ah yes. Very very good special team, my friend. I give you good deal on this
team. You really, really, really like this team. They nice team. I know you
like special team, my friend. This team good special very for you.
Peter:
Well, the thing is, I like Otto….
Viceis:
Special good man. Otto good and special just for you. Extra good and filling.
Peter:
Er….Right. I’m just a bit suspicious that you’re bereft of playmakers.
Viceis:
No, no, no, no, no. You no think of that, my friend. Dis team no bearless. We
haif many special good bears. Bears nice and filling. Nikolaidais good bear. He
satisfy special very good nice. Everyone want Charisteas. You no take
Charisteas, someone else take special very and you regret, my friend. He big,
strong very nice bear. Vryzas and Karagounis make nice filling meal. Make my
very special good friend happy.
Peter:
Yes, but what about the Spanish, Portuguese, and Czechs?
Viceis:
No,no,no,no,no,no. Other teams no nice and filling. Other teams no made very
special just for you. You throw up with other teams. Very, very bad. I give you
good quality very nice extra special premium no bad team. Reasonable price, my
friend. Price only for good friend, special just for you. I throw in
Giannakopoulos for nothing. Just for you my friend. Nice and special team.
Premium team for you my friend.
Peter:
Hmm…
Viceis:
You no more think. You try. You try nice extra very good special heavenly team
and you no like we talk about it. Other teams no heavenly. This team very
special just for you, my friend.
Peter:
Well…
Viceis:
My friend, my friend?
Peter:
Er……
Viceis:
Very nice good special, my friend?
Peter:
Alright! I’m on board. I’ll give the Greeks some respect and pick them this
round.
Viceis:
Nice extra good choice my friend.
Peter:
Okay, Viceis. I’ll talk to you later.
Viceis:
You want extra special nice paddleboat ride out on lake, my friend?
Peter:
No, I’m cool. I really need to….
Viceis:
Crispy, flaky baklava my friend. Melt in da mouth. I give you haif price.
Special baklava made just for very nice special friend?
Peter:
I’m fine. There are some things I…
Viceis:
I paint you. You very attractive. You so beautiful, my friend, my friend, my
friend. I paint you for free. You give me nothing until you see painting. I no
interested in money. I must paint such very nice special person.
Peter:
Thanks, Viceis, but you can’t really paint me over the phone and besides that I
have to….
Viceis:
Okay, my friend. I give you tour. Some very much good tour. Best tour of your
life. You see everything. Nice and filling. You tell your mother and she say
“what extra nice tour”
Peter:
Viceis…
Viceis:
Special ladies! Very nice special ladies.
Taste like baklava from heaven, my friend. So very special just for you.
Peter:
Viceis…
Viceis:
Laser pointers! Haif price for special person on very special nice laser red
laser pointers. You take pointer and make red laser then we talk about price,
my friend
Peter:
VICEIS!!
Viceis:
my friend?
Peter:
If I pay you full price for a tray of baklava will it shut you the hell up?!?
Viceis:
Okay my friend. We do business. This just business. You buy baklava and get
free laser pointer and Greek Football Team. Tell your friends, mother, and pet
hamster about very special nice premium good deals, my friend. We do business,
my very special friend.
Peter:
Thank the fuck Christ. Goodbye, Viceis! click
THE
LINE: Pick em’
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Czech Republic 2, Greece 1. Sigh. Talking a team
up, abandoning ship, and then being posthumously vindicating counts among the
most dissatisfying of bookie about faces. It’s akin to being flung through the
windshield of a car, then run over by it. I shouldn’t have allowed emotions to
cloud my judgment. I deserted all my trenchant analysis on the Czechs merely
because I was infuriated. Bad move. Had I only been a bit more stubborn….and
that will be the last time I write those words ; )
The aforementioned injuries and suspensions forced
Fernando Santos to pull together a back line held in place by spit and glue.
Katsouranis and Kyriakos had no business occupying the center back position.
Thomas Hübschmann sliced right through them with penetrating though ball to
unleash Petr Jiracek for a third minute goal. Before they could even
contemplate tightening up the middle of the pitch, Thomas Rosicky went wide to
find Thedor Gebrie Selassie on the overlap. The future Werder Bremen fullback
then drove in a hard, low-lying cross that Katsouranis proved thoroughly
unequipped to deal with. Pilar threw both the drilled ball and the hapless
defender into the net for a 2-0 advantage six minutes in.
Pirate keeper Kostas Chalkias sustained injury on the
play as he leapt to unsuccessfully cut out the cross. Within another quarter of
an hour, it became clear he simply couldn’t go. Hence, the Greeks lost yet
another first-stringer in less than 120 minutes of football. Matter might have
turned out differently had Fotakis’s fine header of a Torosidis cross not been
disallowed before the break. Petr Cech even made what appeared to be a
conscious effort to the unbecoming mistakes that sank the Czechs in the Turkey match four years ago. In the 53rd,
Cech dropped a piece of weak box work from Giorgios Samaras and Gekas slammed
home the loose ball to open his account. Ultimately, however, the uni-brows
came nowhere close to capitalizing on this unintentional lifeline.
Poland vs. Russia
vs. 
I’ll admit it. The “Plastic Pitch” Team has me eating my words. The Ruskies did very little wrong in their rollicking romp over the Czechs. Arshavin and Pavlyuchenko silenced all of their critics. Look for them to return to the Premiership soon. Malafeev is nothing short of full-blown amazing. Kerzhakov appears fit and Ingashevich hasn’t lost a notch. Most significantly, Advocaat has demonstrated that he remains an exceptional judge of talent and form. Old Schwanz Befürworter isn’t afraid to piece together an entirely new lineup if he thinks the current level of the players will well complement one another.
Oh, it’s raining shit in Polska. This group was theirs for
the taking. They debuted the best Polish squad ever in front of the throbbing
masses of Bialo-Czerwoni. Lewandowski had them flying high, all set up for the
rout. What happened? Perquis missed two must-score opportunities. Wasilewski
and Obraniak also choked. The back line broke down, enabling Salpigidis to
claim a lucky ball amidst a disorganized flurry. To complete the precipitous
downfall, Szczeny got himself red carded in the 36th, meaning they
must now face the red hot Russians with their backup keeper. Ugh. From ecstasy
to agony in just over fifty minutes of playing time.
Where do we begin to pick up the pieces? For starters Smuda
must ditch Perquis and Wasilewski. Premyslaw Tyton may be brimming with
confidence after his improbable penalty save, but he needs more stalwart
support up the gut. Bring in Warrznyaik and Wojtkowiak. Come to think of it,
where the metastasizing fuck were they in the first place? Lewandowski,
Blaszcykowski, and Eugen Polanski can and will play better. Will it be enough?
Tragically, one sees them coming up juuuusst a bit too short. The Ruskies have
their weaknesses to display. The offensive machine won’t set off similar
fireworks. However, the “Moscow Granite” back four should ensure that an
Arshavin goal ends up being good enough.
THE
LINE: Russia +1 goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Poland 1, Russia 1. Advocaat surprised us all by
rolling out exactly the same starting eleven. This time they failed to click in
any meaningful way. Smuda tinkered with his holding midfielders in an effort to
shore up Tyton’s wall. By all accounts, Dariusz Dudka did a serviceable job
protecting the young keeper from any dangerous through balls, but the
creatively of Marcel Rybus was clearly missed.
For the second consecutive match, the Poles fed off the
energy in the crowd to foster a few exciting early opportunities. Piss-poor
finishing from Lewandowski, Boenisch, and Obraniak kept the slate clean,
however. Still in the form of his life, Arshavin wouldn’t allow such mistakes
to go unpunished. Brimming with confidence, the always electric striker would
not rest until he earned a call back to the Emirates from Arsene Wegner. He set
up Dzagoev for a breathtaking opener in the 37th minute. Arashavin’s
bowing free kick hit Dzagoev in full stride, leaving Tyton with virtually no
chance.
No panic from the Poles, who unhurriedly attempted to reestablish
the game plan of a slow-paced cycle-attack engineered to set up Lewandowski
once he could break free. The strategy continued to produce offensive pressure,
but disciplined defending and smart tackling robbed Lewandowski of the even a
chance to rail off a shot. Faced with a ticking clock, the red-whites had
little choice but to scrap this blueprint ten minutes after the restart.
Obraniak began lopping hopeful balls up-field in an effort to get something
going. Perquis, Piszczech, and Wasilewski began pouring forward, disregarding
any protection against the counter.
With Zyrianov and Arshavin looking to pounce on any loose
ball that would enable them to race down the pitch unopposed, Blaszczykowski
was left with enough space to line up a two-touch laser…and what a fucking
incredible goal it was! He fired in a comet from just inside the 18 for a 57th
minute equalizer, much to the delight of the subdued fan-base.
With that the game shifted into overdrive. The respective
keepers faced a hailstorm of chances as both sides opted to go for broke. Tyton
dove to deny Dzagoev more glory with his fingertips. Malafeev had to resort to
full stretch thrice to keep out peppering efforts from Polanski, Obraniak, and
Boenisch. The sheer energy of match left one certain one squad would prevail.
The scurrying pace continued unabated, so much so that the final whistle caught
one off guard.
Wednesday
Denmark vs. Portugal
vs. 
Didn’t your friendly bookie warn you against underestimating the Danes? We all knew that they would peel off a victory against someone to turn this already manically insane group directly on its head. No one was capable of envisioning that it would take place so early, against the best team in the tournament no less. Now predicting where the “Hammer-Gruppe” will go from here becomes harder than finding a good-looking woman with a sense of humor. I can personally assure all of you that your friendly bookie will not succumb to the temptation to call all bets off until the final match. No matter how enticing it may be to crawl away and lament my losses, WE WILL STILL HAVE LINES!
Congratulations to the Danes on a well-deserved upset. In
spite of the Dutch squander-fest, Niki Zimling could have made it 2-0.
Krohn-Deli scuffed a fine opportunity to grab a brace and make it 3-0 yet.
Christian Poulsen played a Lahm-like game, defending with discipline at the
back while intrepidly charging forward up the flanks to get the offense in
gear. All memories of that unfortunate own goal have been erased. Despite being
out-tricked by van Persie once, Daniel Agger held his line remarkably well.
Simon Kjaer has already earned himself a fat new contract at Wolfsburg or
perhaps even the Premiership. As if his exceptional talent weren’t enough, he’s
lionhearted in the way he sprawls in front of crosses. Eriksen validated all of
us who consider him a midfield firecracker. Though Rommedahl and Bendtner may
not be capable of running like they used to, their young point man will serve
them up with more delectable offerings in this one as well. Kvist, Zimling, and
Krohn-Deli look solid too.
Their prospects for sneaking through the group still look
damn good. One shouldn’t assume that the Olsen Gang is past the apex of the
parabola. This will be a very competitive match, decided by one goal if its not
drawn. The Navigators are also gradually getting in sync. The sheer explosive
potential of their 4-3-3 induces chills. Christiano Ronaldo can hang out at
left forward where he’s most comfortable. Helger Postiga and the indomitable
Nani join him up front. Both are so immensely talented that I can’t rule out a
golden boot. Moutinho and Meireles beset the relatively green Miguel Veloso,
The fullbacks leave something to be desired, making them slightly susceptible
to work on the wings. Key adverb to note there is “slightly”. The Germans tried
to work them laterally to only modest success. It will take something special
to exploit them using width. At times in the German match the Navigators kept
as many as eight back. Though they’ll be on the hunt for more momentum early
on, I’ll maintain faith in Pepe and Bruno Alves. They’ll shut down Eriksen even
if Coentrao can’t always be back helping.
THE
LINE: Portugal +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Portugal 3, Denmark 2. Goals galore in this
raucous encounter. Such a thrilling up-tempo match was precisely what the
tournament needed. Twenty-year-old phenom Christian Eriksen left skid marks of
the Lviv pitch. Starting once again at short striker, the Ajax prospect tore up
enough turf to sod a golf course. The entire opening quarter of an hour
belonged to the speedy little bastard. The Navigators couldn’t get anything
going. Ronaldo was on the move, but only finding space where it didn’t
matter. Nothing could stop the
tide of Danish momentum…that is until Niki Zimling’s injury necessitated a
break in play.
Even a two-minute respite can serve to reverse the flow
of a match. One cannot underestimate how much a little rest, a cup of water,
and a some time to think can have on exhausted players engaged in the world’s
most physically demanding sport. After the Zimling substitution, the Portuguese
attack began to take shape. Moutinho and Veloso managed to string together a
few passes. Nani and Postiga made a few runs forward. Ronaldo found his way
into more useful space.
Ironically enough, the breakthrough came on set pieces.
Pepe, audaciously forward on a Joao Moutinho corner, glanced in the opening
goal in the 24th. The aerial play of the Navigators only improved.
Postiga poked in a Nani cross to double the advantage twelve minutes later. The
run of play screamed “floodgates” as the triplicate Portuguese threat had no
difficulty shaking off the spotty defensive coverage of Agger and Kjaer.
The Vikings would strike back four minutes from halftime
with some aerial splendor of their own. Rommedahl swung in a deep ball that
Michael Krohn-Deli headed across for Niklas Bendtner, who in turn buried it off
his temple. This awe-inspiring display of synchronized synergy augured a
historic second half.
Olsen’s eleven fought hard for an equalizer after the
restart. Paulsen and Jacobsen were rarely seen back helping. Agar and Jeer cut
diagonally in support of Eriksen, himself now clearly instructed to serve as
the second striker. Morton’s tactical scheme left the Danes dangerously
vulnerable at the back, a situation nearly exploited by Ronaldo, Postiga, and
Nani. Fortunately for the “Danish Dynamite”, Anderson stood tall.
Ronaldo played like a man possessed down the stretch. He
had his positioning down pat, but couldn’t provide the finish. Twice he misplaced
what should have undeniably been goals into the side netting. Bendtner secured
his brace in the 80th minute, once again demonstrating his aerial
prowess with a textbook header. Just when it appeared as if the headlines in
the next morning’s paper would fault Ronaldo for letting his country down, Coentrao split a Danish defense that
played an overall awful match. He attempted to connect with fresh-legged
substitute Silvestre Varela, who initially scuffed the low-cross. Seconds later
he would redeem himself, recovering nicely to control the ball and snipe one
past Anderson. It was time to get to a suitable bar and watch the
Fatherland.
Deutschland vs. The Netherlands
vs. 
vs.
Hmmm….too late to take this one off the board? Sorry, Vicey,
but you must stand by your country even when you have a horrible sinking
feeling that they can’t win. Must…..gather…..strength. BE STRONG. Auf’s Jungs!
Werden wir schaffen. Der Sieg ist erfassbar!!
Ouch. My chest hurts after all of that beating. The reason
that forecasting a Nationalelf victory remains so cumbersome brings us to how
historically unprecedented such a sensational early exit would be. The Dutch
entered the competition as the favorite of many experts (Not to mention
armchair analysts such as myself). Should the Krauts prevail in the latest
installment of this emotionally deep-seated border battle, the Dutch will
become the most talented team ever to be eliminated so early. Hell, it’s even
possible they may be the FIRST team to be sent packing. Such an unheard of
event would constitute the Fukashima of Football. Presumably it ahs to happen
once, which doesn’t make it probable by any stretch of the imagination.
The two rivals last met for a meaningless friendly back in
November. The Mannschaft spanked them 3-0, a result which one must immediately
disregard. It’s oh so tempting to treat the hype as gospel. Yes, Clockwork
Orange has played hideously in the friendlies. Sure, the new-look German
Defense appears rock solid. I'll optimistically concede that we have enough
weapons to outgun them. Grrrr…nyah….nope can’t do it. Our 4-2-3-1 doesn’t match
up well with their 4-3-3. (Yes, I know it’s officially listed as a 4-2-3-1, but
I refuse to believe that Robben and Afellay weren’t playing striker on
Saturday). As heroic as Boateng and Badstuber were in Lviv, they can only hope
to absorb van Persie, Afellay, and Sneijder for so long.
Three changes advocated for Van Marwijk, who perilously
needs to do a better job picking a side. First, Robben just needs to sit for a
while and clear his head. He can’t seem to concentrate. His execution will return,
but he needs a break from the pressure. I’ll yield to the more informed and
concur that starting Jan Huntelaar is not advisable. He’s too Gomez-like. A
hulking frame such as his doesn’t complement Van Persie’s deft improvisation.
Instead, give either Kuyt or van der Vaart the start. Next, dump Nigel de Jong.
Something’s not quite right. Could be he’s not yet recovered from his loss of
the starting position at Man City. If Strootman can’t fill his position, switch
to an unorthodox 4-1-3-2 and trust van Bommel. Finally, Krohn-Dehli toasted
Vlaar and Van der Wiel. One of them has to go. Dust off Bouma or Mathijsen if
you must. I’m not entirely clear. What was wrong with wither Schaars or
Bouhlarouz?
For my Mannschaft….it’s about damn time I stopped making fun
of his scarves and nose picking habits so that I might admit that Löw is a damn
fine trainer and selector. He made four changes to my projected lineup, all of
them justified. I’ll still urge two extra bold moves. Shock the world by starting
Klose in place of Gomez, even after his sensational goal. Klose’s playmaking
ability represents the one X-factor the Dutch WON’T be prepared for. Switch
back to Gomez for subsequent matches if necessary. Just keep em’ guessing.
Second, give Götze, Reus, or Kroos a shot at Poldi’s position. If it doesn’t
work then let it be. We’ve very little to lose in a match in which a draw would
be considered a victory. With that in mind, with heavier heart than ever, I
give you (for the first time in history and hopefully the last), the following
line:
THE
LINE: Pick em’
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Germany 2, Netherlands 1. Let’s begin this
section with the most clichéd sentence ever: It was a dark and stormy
night….The weather in Southwest Germany remained steadfastly awful on that
particular eve. This spoiled the “Open Air Festival” intent of the proprietor
of the small country bar at which I took in the match. The poor bastard had
shelled out 400 Euros to rent a large open air screen and another 150 to rent a
truck with pre-installed beer taps. I know all of this because I checked in on
the day of the match to meet the owner and make a reservation. His name was…I
shit you not….”Peter Weis”. He even looked as if he could be my long-lost brother.
After we recovered from this awkward coincidence, we
discussed the Mannschaft’s prospects against the dreaded Orange. Of course, Löw
should start Klose, we concluded. Götze or Reus deserved a change in left
midfield. With respect to the demoralized Dutch, van Marwijk would be a fool
not to rest Robben. De Jong needed to be replaced too. Van der Vaart deserved a
look. After we found ourselves agreeing on everything, including what the
greatest name in the universe happens to be, we parted ways by agreeing that it
definitely wouldn’t rain tonight and that the barkeep’s investment would heap
large financial rewards.
That’s the problem with Deutschland. Every other day (if
you’re lucky), it’s going to rain on you. Baden-Württemberg holds the
distinction of being “The sunniest part of Germany”. Anyone see a few more
clichéd analogies on the horizon? Yes, yes. “The sunniest part of Germany”
carries about as much weight as “the tallest mountain in Kansas”, “the darkest
guy at a Gordon Lightfoot concert”, or “the sanest person at a Militia
Meeting”. It rained. It rained all over us and our predictions.
Both coaches deployed starting elevens identical to their
first round picks. In Löw’s case persistent faith in Gomez and Podolski
appeared at least minimally justifiable. Van Marwijk’s lack of any creative
impetus would end up costing him his job. Van Persie and Robben continued to
look out of sync, but not for lack of trying. Bayern’s forgotten son twice
placed the ball directly on Van Persie’s foot from distance in the opening ten
minutes. On the first occasion, Neuer was perfectly positioned to collect a
half-hearted effort. A few minutes later, the world’s greatest footballer
screwed a chance way off target in spite of a wide-open net.
The overall mood inside the makeshift plastic tent
remained optimistic. Though the rain continued to deluge us outside our
cramped, improvised shelter, the Jungs soon got into gear with some impressive
antics of their own. Özil tri-cycled a fine effort into the post. Schweine
found Poldi for a looping effort that grazed just wide. Apropros Schweine,
Bayern’s Charlie Horse showed no signs of injury. He owned the midfield from
the 11th minute on through the 23rd. At long last he
would link up with Gomez in the 24th. Super Mario validated his
namesake with a smart turn-around that gave him two touches and caverns of
space. The other Bayern star finished with a flourish. 1-0 Fatherland.
The Bayern tandem weren’t finished by damn sight.
Schweine picked out his familiar colleague again fourteen minutes later with an
incisive scalpel pass so marvelously precise that one wondered if the pair were
not, in fact, the same person. This time Gomez would return the favor with a
first-time flash finish that left Stekelenburg without a prayer. 2-0
Fatherland.
The skies could split. They could piss on us all they
liked. We were warm, buzzed, and miserably happy. ;) Van Marwijk caught up to
his team’s impending peril, bringing on van der Vaart for van Bommel after the
break. The substitution failed to impact the flow of the match. Action remained
definitively one-sided after the restart. Löw had clearly instructed his
defensive corps that now was not the time to sit back and play it cagey.
Hummels ventured forward in search of the kill shot. Boateng and Lahm also
roamed as if their defensive responsibilities had been suspended. Van Persie
was thus gifted a few quality chances off the break, but Neuer denied him with
calm and class.
When Van Persie finally slapped in a blistering goal from
outside the 18 in the 73rd, we maintained confidence that it was
nothing more than a consolation prize. This match was over. We were going home
happy, if not soaked. Jerome Boateng did resort to some desperate defending in
the 87th, but his suspension would prove to be a blessing in
disguise.
Throughout the match, I carefully tampered my alcohol
intake. I was driving after all. The palpitating play of my Mannschaft made it
immensely difficult. Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to get
hammered and enjoy the spectacle even more. Nevertheless, I kept my composure
and stingily sipped one solitary low-alcohol content beer like a cat
intermittently lapping up toilet water. Why? Because I had a mission after the
match. Having recently experienced the honor of witnessing my first important
international match alongside my countrymen, it was now my solemn duty to drive
around honking my car horn.
Even for the most fervent fans of U.S. Sports, it might
seem peculiar that one should parade about the street honking one’s horn whilst
screeching the name of one’s country. Think it’s a bit silly? It’s not nearly
as ridiculous as turning cars over and burning them. While you’re outright
destructive, we’re downright goofy. It’s just how we roll. What a night. No rain
could stop me. ;)
Thursday
Italy vs. Croatia
vs. 
You did it, Azzuri faithful. You hung with the big boys and bled your bookie dry. The party rages on with what should be a narrow victory over the tablecloth-clad Blazers. The Cassano/Balotelli combo up front runs like a well-lubricated machine….at least until Balotelli runs out of gas. Even should he spend another 45 in fifth, rumors of Di Natale’s demise have apparently been greatly exaggerated. Your oddly effective 3-5-2 has frightening counterattack potential. Absolutely loved De Rossi’s game. His timely tackling secured the draw. Pirlo, Marchesio, and Motta also deserve top marks. Wise of Prandelli to give Giovinco a look, but he’s clearly not ready to start.
Prandelli has every reason to take a Hippocratic approach to
next match’s selection. Do no harm and keep the boys together. If the Wops
display a noticeable weakness it’s down the right, where Giacherrini and
Chielleni phoned in a mediocre performance if one cares to be generous. Bonucci
also defended shitty and dirty, but Maggio should be able to insulate him. The
Croats can absolutely exploit your right flank using Mandzukic, Rakitic, and
Srna. All three tore it up and appear in excellent form. Guess we put the
Eduardo controversy to bed…unless of course the match turns into a floppin' Wop
fest. Just ask Arsene Wegner. Eduardo dives even better than the Dagos.
I, like many others, found myself quite surprised to learn
that Dortmund picked up Schildenfeld. His beast of a game has me now talking
myself into him…though we shall yet see if he can sustain his overachieving
form. The real defensive catastrophe came from veteran Verdran Corluka. Not
only did he set up the free kick with that clumsy challenge on Kevin Doyle, he
completely lost his marking on St. Ledger. He’s not fit. Sit him. One
additional change to advocate for the Blazers. Surely there’s room for Kranjcar
in midfield. Perisic and Vokojevic were less than stellar and Modric needs his
“Spurring Partner”.
As much as I’m loath to admit it, this game may come down to
the respective keepers. Buffon looks as sharp as ever while Pletikosa had
little to do. I reiterate that he’s been dipping heavily and I saw nothing to
alter that opinion. I’ll give you a low line, Guineas. If you lose it’s your
own damn fault.
THE
LINE: Italy +1 Goal
Unconvinced that Jelavic would be able to
contest Pirlo and De Rossi, Billek dropped him back to supporting striker. He
also coaxed Modric and Rakitic forward, refashioning the 4-4-2 into a 4-2-3-1.
Strinic was encouraged to move forward as well, and it was his angled cross
that Mandzukic slammed first time for the 72nd minute equalizer. The
Croats could have easily snatched up a victory. Their second-half pressure was
worthy. This bookie had the (misbegotten) feeling that the Wops were done for.
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Italy 1, Croatia 1. Bwhahahahahahahah! Fooled
you. That’s the beauty of degenerate gamblers. Either the bookie or the house
will get you in the end. Why do you think casinos give out so many comps? Why
do think the drinks are free? Why do you think they hand you vouchers for free
rooms, meals, and shows? So long as you’re playing, you’re going to lose
eventually. Not only did I reclaim my purse, I almost doubled it. Careful when
betting against the House. We’ve got our eyes on your money. We are bitches for
your riches.
A dip in form for Prandelli’s Pets was wholly
predictable. To his credit, he was deft enough not to start Di Natale. He also
re-formatted the formation to give Maggio and Giaccherinni more leeway.
Maggio’s new status as a winger freed up Marchisio to test Pletikosa from
distance. Giaccherini’s new role enabled Thiago Motta to deliver Balotelli and
Cassano a few more inviting balls. Pirlo rendered the positional shifts moot
when he crushed a 39th minute free kick to put the Wops on top.
Billek could still contend with a one-goal lead, and did so with several
crucial second half changes.
Spain vs. Ireland
vs. 
Party’s over Paddies. There was an outside chance that you might advance out of the group had you properly exploited the untested Croatian defense. How unlucky that Shay Given chose the opening match to have one the worst games of his career and Wolves defender Stephen Ward had a mental lapse. From the Dailies:
“Congratulations
to Shay Given on his brace. Nice job by Steven Ward on basically scoring an own
goal. The score line should have read:
Ireland
1, Croatia 0, Shay Given 2, Stephen Ward 1.”
Trappatoni has little choice but to trot out the same
stating eleven. Conceivably he could swap out McGeady for Gibson or give
Stephen Hunt a shot in place of Duff. Walters, Cox, and Long performed
admirably in their relief roles, but the Keane-Doyle axis should not be
tempered with. Even some minor tinkering on the wings carries with it
monumental risks. Hunt and Gibson
may not be equipped to out-tackle the lightning quick Spaniards. In spite of
what the score line might suggest, La Roja are off to a roaring start. Their
short-passing game flows brilliantly. Their ideas are legion even if the
finishing isn’t quite yet crisp. Torres miffed two sure goals after his
substitution so look for Llorente off the bench this time. Presumably del
Bosque wanted to boost Torres’ confidence after he barely earned a call up. His
continued hesitancy might yet be a matter of depleted confidence after his
nightmare year. Or…..we may just have to admit he’s not the footballer he once
was.
The actual Spanish lineup looks nothing like the one I
augured in the preview section. I projected a 4-2-3-1 with Llorente leading,
Pedro and Juan Mata on the flanks, and Fabregas at defensive midfielder. Del
Bosque’s tactical brilliance knows no bounds. He’s put together a “go for
broke” 4-3-3 with Iniesta, David Silva, and Fabregas sharing the striking
duties. The trio combined in a thrilling fashion for the Spanish goal in the Italian
match. Only a matter of time before they do so again. The two Xavis flank
Busquets in the midfield. Though neither of them had an especially compelling
game, Busquets can distribute to any of the three talents up top, particularly
after del Bosque moved Ramos inside and flipped Pique. They appear unstoppable
up the middle.
The formation is designed to score early and often. The
fixture could potentially turn ugly very quickly, though Given will likely be
able to fend them off for a while. Bad touches were quite rare during the long
spells of Spanish possession. Should del Bosque replace the slumping Xavis with
Pedro and Juan Mata, this obscenely talented La Roja side will gain the
additional element of speed. The only factor keeping this line low is my own
personal guilt. Of course you’re welcome bet on your side, Paddies. I strongly
advise against wagering too much…or maybe just getting drunk and having a grand
time.
THE
LINE: Spain +2 Goals
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Spain 4, Republic of Ireland 0. Enough money came
in on both sides to make this one a wash. Del Bosque ended up actually starting
Torres. It turned out to be a masterful move. World class stuff. What better
squad for Torres to regain his confidence against? That’s why I’m not the coach
of anything…not even a football team of junior mites.
The rout initiated with a Torres Tally in the FOURTH
minute. Richard Dunne and David Silva cancelled one another out with a
fifty-fifty challenge. Torres stood ready to collect the lose ball, first-touch
it away with his toes, and boot it past Shay Given. La Roja went on to
ticky-tack- their way to nearly eighty percent of the first half possession. It
was painful to watch.
We had to wait until four minutes after the restart for
David Silva to double the tally. Andres Iniesta launched an effort that Shay
Given could only punch as clear as the salivating Silva. The Man City midfielder
didn’t squander a second equivocating. Given could do nothing in the position
he found himself. Silva would set up Torres for a third Spanish goal after
another 22 minutes of fiery red onslaught. Not to be neglected, Fabregas then
chested down a delivery for a monumental strike a mere nine minutes after he
was substituted in.
The Irish fans sang. The Spanish fans joined them
arm-in-arm. Even if the match was a merciless slaughter, everyone had a good
time.
Friday
France vs. Ukraine
vs. 
How to fix these flaccid Frenchmen? An age old question indeed. After dumping Diarra for Menez, it may be prudent to move Ribery and Nasri up a tad. Laurent Blanc has but one task between now and the final day of the workweek (the first day of the weekend in once again Socialist France). GET THEM FORWARD. Benzema saw fit to try his luck from distance as did Malouda, Evra, and “Two tickets to the gun show” Mexes. Ribery chased the ball to the touchline a few times and Nasri wasn’t necessarily shy either. Nevertheless, two wingers prepared to double down on ace high doesn’t come close to giving this squad the spunk they need.
Here’s where Menez furnishes the extra thrust. Twelve
assists for PSG tells me all I need to know. Move Malouda and Cabaye up while
you’re at it and present a 4-1-4-1. That may not even be a legitimate
formation, but I’d roll with it. For all my gentle ribbing of Mexes, he’s a
brave defender. Together with Rami, I’ll consider the inner ranks closed for
business. Shevchenko and Voronin only lurk for crosses anyway. Yarmolenko and
Tymoschuk won’t be able to feed them if Cabaye can get back to help Menez.
What more can be written about the marvelous “Kiev Yellow
Knuckle”? I’ve delayed these lines for over forty minutes while I catch up on
the latest commentary. Extraordinary never equals effrontery. Let’s get it
together, Froggies.
THE
LINE: France +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: France 2, Ukraine 0. Ahhh. The infamous “Rain
Delay” Game. Syndicate aficionados will recall this match as the one that
produced the immortal lines, “Kahn’s eating pasta”. A hellish downpour delayed
action for over an hour. German commentators struggled to find something
interesting to say about rain (harder than you might think, even for Germans).
Ukrainian women danced throughout the deluge. The “Hot Girl Standings” remain forever-skewed
thanks to this impromptu Dionysian tribal trance.
As much fun as the Ukrainians had playing in the rain,
they returned home confronting a nasty defeat…and likely a nasty cough as well.
After threatening throughout the first half, ze French punched through in the
53rd when Menez finally figured out Pyatov. The Ukrainian keeper had
been batting away French efforts all night, but he was powerless when Menez
took a Karim Benzema offering past Yevhin Selin for the left-footed finish. Three
minutes later, when Benzema slotted in a cheeky little ball that left Cabaye
all alone, it was clear that the night belonged to the Real Madrid forward.
This match afforded your friendly bookie endless amounts
of commentary-ready material. He still left it unsatisfied. What might have
happened without the rain?
Sweden vs. England
vs. 
Olsson, Svensson, Granqvuist and Mellberg. All showcased their capacity in the waning moments. Ibrihimovic wasn’t exactly finished either. I stand by my assertion that we require an answer as to who will fill the striker’s role for the Three Lions, We need to put someone other than Milner in front of Glen Johnson. We’ll need to move Gerrard up to Young’s position, ditch Milner for Henderson, ditch Parker for Defoe and start Wellbeck alongside Defoe. Can the “coach who shall not be named” be trusted with such moves? Errrrrmmm…..
THE
LINE: Pick em’
GENTLEMAN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: England 3, Sweden 2. An “instant classic”. The
world watched with eager eyes, waiting to see what move Hodgson would make. He
brought in the ponytailed giant, Andy Carroll to complement Wellbeck. Dividends
were forthcoming. England skipper Steven Gerrard dribbled all the way out to
the right wing before spotting Carroll waiting in the middle. The ensuing
header didn’t merely exude clever ingenuity. It DEFINED clever ingenuity. The
Three Lions took their lead into the break.
The high-flying first half portended an equally enthralling
second. Wellbeck, Källström, Scott Parker
and Ibrahimovic came tantilzingly close during the opening 45. Yet, it
was 34-year-old (!!) Olof Mellburg who picked up the game and carried it on his
shoulders. He intrepidly left his feet to meet Joe Hart’s parry of an
Ibrahimovic free kick. His brave twitch ended up caroming off Glen Johnson
before it found the back of the net, but it remained a solid effort. Ten
minutes later, Mellburg would score a goal of his own. Sebastian Larsson’s free
kick was redirected by none other than Källstrom. The old guy triumphantly
headed it past a flummoxed Joe Hart for the lead.
The Swedes basked in glory for all of five minutes.
Isaksson did well to turn away a vicisous John Terry header, but the repel only
earned England a corner. Theo Walcott may have only been on the pitch for three
minutes, but he was on his toes. He collected the arcing corner and put her to
bed. Wellbeck’s winning goal defies description. I’ve perused the
dailies….still I have nothing to pilfer. The man back-heeled to himself! Good
God was it amazing ; )
