Your “Syndicate Hangover” is proudly presented by
“Pißwasser Pils”
BITTE EIN PIß!!
Day 4: Recap
Record—
Spread: 3-8
Straight up: 6-5-0
Hot Girl
Standings
Country
|
Tally
|
Games
Played
|
Argentina
|
29
|
1
|
Columbia
|
25
|
1
|
Netherlands
|
24
|
1
|
Costa Rica
|
21
|
1
|
Cote d’Ivoire
|
21
|
1
|
Japan
|
20
|
1
|
Ecuador
|
20
|
1
|
France
|
19
|
1
|
Brazil
|
18
|
1
|
Bosnia & H
|
17
|
1
|
Chile
|
15
|
1
|
Mexico
|
13
|
1
|
Spain
|
12
|
1
|
Switzerland
|
12
|
1
|
Australia
|
11
|
1
|
Uruguay
|
9
|
1
|
Italy
|
9
|
1
|
Greece
|
8
|
1
|
Honduras
|
8
|
1
|
Croatia
|
6
|
1
|
Cameroon
|
6
|
1
|
England
|
4
|
1
|
Schönen Guten Morgen Syndicate Members,
It’s MATCHDAY IN THE FATHERLAND!! AUF GEHT’S DEUTSCHLAND!!
Hell’s to the yes! Your friendly bookie is more excited than Cristinano Ronaldo
coming back from the hairdresser. I may be running on less than two hours of
sleep, but the football fever of my beloved country helps me hold my own.
Had to hit the road this morning and head out to the country. Luckily (in between Shakira songs) German Radio reminded me that “Jetzt geht’s endlich los”! An entire country prepares for one helluva party.
Had to hit the road this morning and head out to the country. Luckily (in between Shakira songs) German Radio reminded me that “Jetzt geht’s endlich los”! An entire country prepares for one helluva party.
AUF GEHT’S DEUTSCHLAND!
WIR SIND BEREIT!
AUF GEHT’S DEUTSCHLAND!
WIR SIND BEREIT!
By the way, I have two distinct thoughts on the Shakira
songs blared out at me by my car radio this morning. First, on “Wherever,
Whenever” she actually sings the line “lucky for my breasts they’re small and
humble so you don’t confuse them with mountains.” ……What? Excuse me? You can’t
fucking be serious.
Secondly, someone was seriously running out of ideas when
composing the “Don’t Bother” ballad. It’s a standard little ditty about a
scorned woman lamenting her old flame’s new lover. The shunned girl reminds the
man that his new girl can’t give him what she can. There’s invariably a line
about how she gives better head or something. Eventually the girl summons her
inner-strength and makes peace with her current situation. Blah, blah, blah.
Pretty much every female vocalist is contractually obligated to sing one of
these songs at some point.
The Shakira version, however, gets downright weird. Her home
wrecking bitch is “the greatest fat free cook”, “speaks perfect French”, and
“practices Tai-Chi”. That’s one seriously worldly home wrecker! When it comes
time for her to break down and directly address her ex-man via a spoken-word
interlude, Shakira tells him,
“For you I’d give up everything I own and move to a communist country
I’d file my
nails so they don’t hurt you, lose those pounds, and learn about football”
Baby….I don’t think you’re quite getting what men are
interested in. I don’t need you to cook me fat-free meals (though I wouldn’t
mind a sandwich!). You don’t need to relocate to North Korea or memorize
tactical formations. Let your nails grow and carry some extra pounds if it
suits you. I merely want what every man needs: Some occasional peace and quiet.
It’s really that simple, ladies. Just leave your man alone sometimes. He’ll be
content.
Enough of that. We’ll hear plenty more about Shakira when
Gerald Pique touches the ball again. That’s how we get the old brain into first
gear on a sleep deprived Monday Morning….and we did it all before the kids woke
up! On to last night’s matches….
Serious oscillations with respect to your bookies personal
finances. The wretched Swiss took a sizeable bite out of my black. Never came
close to dipping into the red but it was still profoundly irritating. The
slow-starting Froggies and dogged B & H Lillies brought it all back. Asante
sana, my two blue-clad heroes.
Oh those damn Swiss! Hitzfeld’s plan worked out after all.
The old wayfearer still has some spunk left, even if he’s turning into a
“squintier” old fart than Clint Eastwood. Seriously. The man’s eyes appear to
be retreating into the back of his skull like a couple of spooked French
cockroaches. He’s turning Japanese!
Anyway, all was going according to plan right up through the
first half. Rueda rolled out the 4-4-2 with Caicedo as the target forward and
E. Valencia as the rover. Lichtsteiner and von Bergen were defending sloppily.
Drmic couldn’t get established. The Valencia goal arrived courtesy of some
abhorrently bad marking from HSV centerback Johan Djourou. I’ve no clue why
Schär didn’t start. It’s one thing to bench Senderos, but why employ a
converted midfielder?
Ottmar’s halftime adjustment was spot on. Mehmedi for
Stocker. Perfect. The Freiburg man had the equalizer within two minutes. The
second substitution yielded the second goal. Seferovic for Drmic in the 75th.
Ingenious.
Rocky start for my Froggies in Porto Alegre, even if they
did win 3-0. First of all, YOU CAN’T HAVE A WORLD CUP WITHOUT NATIONAL ANTHEMS.
The national anthems must precede the start of every fixture. What the hell was
up with that? It was like a softball/kickball match without casual sex
afterwards. That anticlimactic beginning hit me quite hard.
Mediocre debuts for Matuidi, Pogba, and the much heralded
Griezman. So-so performance from Valbuena, who at least looked solid on set
pieces. A fair penalty call on Wilson Palacios. Can someone explain to me how
goal-line technology can manage to fuck up so soon? We’ve only just begun!
Er…has Mathieu Debuchy joined the S.S. How else can one explain this new
hairdo.
At least the sound system was working at the Maracana in
Rio. We were all treated to a stirring rendition of the Bosnian national
anthem. It’s also a quite melodious piece. Very baroque. Your friendly bookie
was all pumped up. Moving stuff to hear a country’s national anthem for the
first time.
For all the talk of a soft Argentine opener, all you really
need to make note of is this: Messi got his goal. That’s all that matters. The
curse is broken. He scored only his second World Cup Goal, following a drought
in 2010. He’s primed, ready, and has much more in store for us.
Uh…oh. There go the kids. Yawn. This is going to be a
loooong day. Six cups of coffee and I still feel like Sling Blade. Up and at
em’, Vicey!
“Riffs
of the Day”—Day Four
Reader: Saw the photo, Vicey. Take it easy. Don’t kill yourself
Vicey:
Hahahahaha. Cute. : ) : ) Remember whom you’re talking to. To drop dead of a
heart attack at this point would be something of a relief. At least then I get
a day off. Your friendly bookie only has one speed and doesn’t do anything
half-assed. He doesn’t even know HOW to do anything half-assed. That’s just the
way it is. Luckily for me, the Summer of 2006 once transpired.
I’ll
always know that I can die in peace. ; )
Vicey
gets it……DEAD WRONG?
As foretold in my initial recap, there will be days during which I simply don’t have the time to comb through all that text. This was one of those days. The kids just wouldn’t allow it. They were so kind, however, to paint the national colors on me. Little Rembrandts : ) ; )
DAY
FIVE--PREVIEW
MONSTER DAY for the Fatherland, the “country of
convenience”, and events unfolding in Mosul. It’s Germany, the USA, and Iran.
Aufgeht’s Deutschland! USA! USA! Let’s do it, “Super Eagles”
Deutschland vs. Portugal
vs. 
I’m feeling confident…confident enough that Löw knows he has
to bring something home other than a few more starched shirts for his wardrobe
collection. Maybe it’s all those shots of him running on the beach Baywatch
style. I feel
THE
LINE: Deutschland +1 Goal (holding)
Nigeria vs. Iran
vs. 
Still anticipating that the Super Eagles will win it late.
The Syndicate’s very own unofficial team debuts. Rock on
THE
LINE: Nigeria +1 Goal (holding)
USA vs. Ghana
vs. 
Good luck Yanks. With this line rolling hard it’s too late
for most of you to make a bet. Cheer on your boys anyway.
THE
LINE: USA +2 Goals (rolling from “Pick em”)
GENTLEMEN,
ENTER YOUR WAGERS
