Introduction—“A Group of Life”
(Argentina, Nigeria, Iceland, Croatia)
Finally we get some intrigue. A more or less evenly balanced
group might beget a Cinderella. Picks vary among both experts and amateurs
alike. Gentlemen, welcome to our first official “Group of Life”.
Some have the experienced Croats grinding it out against
teams likely to play pensive. With all of their veteran talent, one could
foresee topping the group and riding deep into the knockouts like a true dark
horse. Others invest faith in the explosive potential of the Super Eagles. They
certainly possess enough offensive prowess to dominate early enough and rack up
the requisite points. Still others, with the notable exception of your more
reasonable bookie, have taken a deep quaff of “Icelandic Kool-Aid”.
Yeah…no. Take my advice and don’t go there. A quixotic wager
on concepts like “Team Spirit”, “The Collective Soul” or “The Enduring Strength
of Solidarity” is not recommended, especially for novice football gamblers. If
there’s one this oddsmaker remains dead certain on as pertains to this group,
it’s that the “Ice-ssons” are recklessly overrated. Nothing worse than the
gritty taste of CRUSHED ice in your evening tumbler. Stay away from them and
stick with cubes. Should you wish to enjoy some “Collective Soul”, buy the “Seven
Year Itch Greatest Hits Album”. It’s got all the classics on there. Available
for $1 at long-overdue Generation-Y Garage Sales everywhere!
Where were we? Oh right. Much of the bold predictions for
this group stem from the concern that Lionel Messi no longer really has the
will and determination to guide his team deep. Mostly a bunch of hogwash. How
does one handicap “will and determination” anyway? He displayed a moment of
childish self-pitying weakness when he briefly quit the National Team. That
doesn’t necessarily make him a quitter.
As you’ll see below, there exist plenty of legitimate reasons
to feel skeptical about Argentine chances. I’ll nevertheless project that they’ll
top the group. The Africans stand a chance of contesting for second place, but
I can’t make a confident prognostication until Rohr finalizes his defensive
squad selections.
If all goes according to plan, the Knockout Brackets may
very well set up yet ANOTHER exciting chapter in the Argentine-Germany Rivalry
come the semi-finals. That would be quite the thrill-ride.
Somebody better get these guys started on a rigorous prayer
regimen. Prayers from the Pontiff Emeritus surely count for half on God’s
scoresheet. C’mon, Joe. Just like you did last time.
Argentina—“La Albiceleste”
Messi appears to be back in gear and ready to lead. All eyes
focus on the now 30-year-old legend in what prove to be his final international
tournament. The pressures of the captaincy have weighed heavily upon him, to
the point that he actually announced his retirement from the team back in the
Summer of 2016. Such a significant event. Though he was coaxed back in less
than two months, the spectacular announcement revealed much about his feelings
regarding the role of standard bearer. Does he tire of this cumbrous burden?
You bet he does. Expect him to quit in earnest this time should La Albiceleste suffer
another onerous defeat.
It would be different had his efforts produced at least one
trophy. The Argentines, hard as it may be to believe, haven’t secured a major
piece of silverware on the top level since 1993! They have captured Olympic
Gold against amateur athletes twice, including once with Messi in 2008. On the
professional level however, fans of the once proud powerhouse have endured a
generation-long drought since their last major national celebration. It’s also
not just a matter of a 25-year-long-gap. La Albiceleste came agonizingly close
on so many occasions and endured much suffering, heartbreak and humiliation.
The Germans have now eliminated their old historic rivals
from three consecutive World Cups. They snuck by them on penalties in the
Quarterfinals in 2006, trounced them out of the same round in 2010, and
snatched away their dreams late in the Final Match of 2014. Fucking ouch.
Twelve straight years of domination from a solitary foe. We can go back even
further than that. The last West German team bested the Argentines in their
previous run to the final match in 1990. In fact, the last time this country
captured the global crown was back in 1986; which happens to be the LAST time
they actually beat Germany. Christ I’ll be a nervous wreck when it comes time
to face these guys again.
On the continental level things get even more absurd. They’ve
lost the final match of the Copa America four times over the course of the last
nine tournaments, including two unexpected defeats to underdogs Chile in both
2015 and 2016. Small wonder Messi decided he’d had enough. Hard slog tournament
football during what should be one’s Summer vacation can be brutal when one
doesn’t even have a single solitary prize to show for it.
It gets worse. I cannot see this year’s incarnation getting
past the Semi-Finals. So very sorry, Argentine Jugadores. Three managers have
passed through the turnstiles over the course of three years, none of whom
demonstrated the courage to tinker with a formula that clearly isn't working.
Sure the talent is there, but so is the scouting. New coach Jorge Sampaoli
looks to deploy more or less the same squad that his predecessors have relied
upon these last three Summers. It will be to little avail.
The attack grows older, slower, and more predictable. It
ultimately doesn’t matter what great seasons Aguero, Higuain, and Messi have
had. Teams are familiar with the triangulation by now. Ever Banega in place of
Maxi Rodriguez in the midfield constitutes a downgrade. Sampaoli appears to
have considered bringing up Acuna or even Tagliafico to pair with di Maria.
Sergio Romero’s injury surely nixes that plan. Already thin at the back, he’ll
need all the defensive experience he can marshal in front of three keepers who
only sport a combined nine international caps among them. Mascherano can always
move back, but that whole deprive the whole system of a “flight director”.
Messi better have some wizardry up his sleeve if this crew
is to advance past the Quarters. He may very well have some. I somehow doubt he
wants to participate in next summer’s Copa America. Expect him to dive all in for
his potential “Swan Song”.
Projecting the Argentine Lineup (4-3-3)
Gonzalo Higuain Sergio Aguero
|
Lionel Messi
|
Ever Banega Angel Di Maria
|
Javier Mascherano
|
M. Rojo G. Mercado
N. Otamendi N. Tagliafico
|
Nahuel Guzman
|
The Talisman—Lionel Messi
Another beast of a season. Here are the highlights:
“A Syndicate Classic—A Football
Apologist’s Dream”
Editor’s
Retroactive Notes:
Not to say that I explicitly
recommend sleep deprivation when one finds oneself creatively blocked, but
remain cognizant of the fact that a state of exhaustive depletion often leads
one somewhere interesting. Faced with commentating on a stale Semi-Final
between the Dutch and Argentines at the end of 2014’s Mammoth Marathon Writing
Session, your friendly bookie found himself in a curious state to say the
least.
Hmmmm…
Perhaps the
“Pan-Dimensional Beings” represented the mind’s recovery…or maybe he just
played too many video games as a kid.
From WM 2014—Day
Twenty-Three Recap:
Bocejo
Syndicate Members,
Yawn.
Yawn. Yawn. Do we really have to, Vicey?
I’m
afraid so, gentlemen.
C’mon
Vicey, really?
Yes….but…Vicey!
I
don’t want to hear it! Your friendly bookie remains a “Completionist”. You know
this from the Day Twelve Recap:
We’re
not leaving Shadow behind! We must talk to everyone in the Ice Village twice
(specially drawn characters must be approached three times). We must solider on
through on through and find SOMETHING to discuss in that horrendously boring
stinker that was the Argentina vs. the Netherlands Semi-Final. We must
persevere!
We
cannot fast-forward straight to the final that splits the last two Holy
Fathers! I know that’s the one on everyone’s mind. We’re just not there yet.
It
was terrible. There may never have been an eight goal match in a World Cup
Semifinal….but there hadn’t been a 0-0 draw either. Ugh. From unbridled
euphoria to the doldrums of ennui. Your friendly bookie had to hit the road
seriously sleep-deprived early yesterday morning after wasting a perfectly good
chance to add another two hours to his five-day total of six mediocre hours.
Coming
home more drained than a damn mechanically bled Sturgeon, I experienced the
“Grand Mal Seizure” of writer’s block. Everyone who’s ever had to compose
something dreads the most pathetic of all scenes: staring at a blank page for
over five minutes. The ideas simply won’t come. You’re flicking a cigarette
lighter that’s out of butane…..in the middle of a high gale. Flick, flick,
flick. Nothing.
That
blinking vertical prompt-line at the left corner of the Word Document becomes
the sole focus of your attention. Suddenly it comes to symbolize a countdown
clock. Your trivial and utterly meaningless existence ticks away;
second-by-second, vertical prompt-line by vertical prompt-line. Oblivion awaits
you. The horror of the nothingness. Non-existence.
To
pretend as if your small and insignificant life will mean anything to anyone
after to cease to exist is folly. It’s difficult enough to get people to
acknowledge that you exist or even tangentially appreciate you while you’re
living, breathing, and working your ass off. The only antidote to the looming
empty void is your ability to find something to distract yourself with before
you die. As the blinking vertical prompt-line reminds you, you presently fail
to even do that. Welcome to the long dark night of the soul.
Er….I
doubt anyone will be questioning my “Kraut-ness” after this post ; ) ; )
Anyway,
that match was genuinely awful. It managed to be even more stale and tiring than
the 2010 encounter. These two countries should be forbidden from playing one
another again! Your friendly bookie attempted to review some of the tape in the
hopes of sparking an idea or two, but all that back-and-forth midfield passing
hypnotized me into the deepest of sleeps.
I
dreamt of a world in which pan-dimensional beings were recruited piece together
an ancient puzzle in the skies above a planet left to “re-evolve”. A once
sophisticated civilization had vanished without a trace, leaving only stones
with incomprehensible markings on them in the heavens. The stones, when
properly arranged, would reveal the major technological and cultural
achievements of the lost world, simultaneously re-instilling the subconscious
memories of civilized feats in the fledging primitive population below. The
pan-dimensional beings labored tirelessly to plant inspiration for inventions
such as fire, shipping, steam power, analog radio wave transmission, and flight
in the collective consciousness of the feeble-minded throngs on the surface.
…..
…..
…..
…..
What
the random-neuron-firing FUCK was that all about? Let’s talk football.
We HAVE TO DO THIS.
Nigeria—“The Super Eagles”
Our beloved Super Eagles. Our green blood brothers from the
Dark Continent! The unofficial “Team of the Syndicate”; independently
responsible for the purchase of more schwag merchandise than any other country.
Where the Oboaboning fuck have they been these last four long years? Answer:
Obscurity, right where your friendly bookie predicted they would slip into.
Matters really fell into disarray once resigned for the second time, then
reversed his decision for the second time, then got fired, then got re-hired,
then resigned again in protest, then…..
Look. As you all well know, African Football Federations are
notoriously disorganized. Keeping track of their whimsical personnel changes
can be every bit as challenging as keeping tabs on Trump’s cabinet; every bit
as intellectually draining as well. It all changes moves at warp speed. Players
often refuse call-ups as they’re unsure whether or not they’ll receive the
promised compensation. Coaches resign in protest over Federation interference
in their squad selections. Safe practice pitches sometimes cannot be procured.
Transportation poses grave dangers in politically unstable and war-torn
countries. Horrible tragedies befall many of these squads in their day-to-day
operations. Corruption. Bribery. Violence. It’s Africa, gentlemen and it’s
certainly no Fairy Tale.
African teams tend to implode at the World Cup Finals. Every
year it’s another nation’s turn. Thus far only the Ghanaians have ever made it
past the Round of 16. Zero signs that the curse may be lifted this time around.
A scant few oddmakers select the Egyptians, Moroccans, or Tunisians to advance
out of their group. The Sub-Saharan teams—of which Senegal Lions comprise the
other half—had the misfortune be drawn against steadier sides.
Can these lads punch through to the Knockouts unexpectedly
much like their 2014 counterparts did? It remains a possibility. Everyone knows
where my heart lies. Honestly might tip them to upset the Croats in the opening
group stage match. If they can earn three points there, they should be well on
their way. Much of it comes down to learning to trust Gernt Rohr; another one
of those roving, peripatetic German coaches who floats from one African team to
the next. Hard to trust these cats as they often fail to fully comprehend the
chemistry of their team and leave a trail of destruction in their wake.
Rohr led the Gabonese to the Continental Crown during a
two-year spell there. He then proceeded to totally wreck Niger and very nearly
derailed Burkina Faso in years subsequent. (Plenty of vitriolic content on that
in the CAN Chapters). Your friendly bookie waited patiently when it became
clear that he would reduce his preliminary roster yesterday, yet still didn’t
get the answers he needed. Will it be Ola Aina or Tyronne Ebuehi taking over
for Ambrose at Right Back? Who replaces Oboabona in central defense?
Troost-Ekong or Balogun?
We’ll have to wait to find out. Obviously Rohr saved the
most important decision until last. Two of those four players will be the final
cuts as he reduces from 25 to 23 men. The final composition of the defense
truly matters. The Super Eagles lost their most prominent offensive threat when Gent’s Moses Simon succumbed to injury. They’ll have to re-format toward a
defensive approach and hope that players like John Obi Mikel, Ogenyi Onazi,
Ahmed Musa, and Victor Moses can somehow rediscover something akin to their
form of days past.
Hoping for such an outcome looks to be a stretch. All the
above players are either playing in provincial leagues or will be soon. More
than anything else, this team needs a breakout offensive star to take control
and catch fire. Based on what we witnessed this season at the Emirates, Alex
Iwobi looks not to be that guy. Thus the task falls to the young duo currently
playing for Leicester in the Premiership, neither of whom capped a particularly
impressive season either. Ndidi just hasn’t got the whole mobility thing
figured out yet, so I’ll pin my hopes on Ihenacho.
Rest assured that your friendly bookie will likely set some
sentimental lines, brothers. You may get a good chance to make some bank.
Projecting the Super Eagle Lineup (4-3-3)
Ahmed Musa Kelechi Ihenacho
|
Alex Iwobi
|
Ogenyi Onazi Victor Moses John Obi Mikel
|
Elderson Echiejile Shehu Abdullahi
|
Leon Balogun Kenneth Omeruo
|
Ikechukwu
Ezwena
|
The Talisman—Kelechi Ihenacho 
So he had an off year. Big deal. It takes time to adjust to
a totally different group of players and Puel didn’t do the greatest job of
integrating him into his system....or building much of a coherent system for
that matter. I maintain that what we saw budding over at the Etihad wasn’t a
fluke. I don’t expect him to completely tank at such a young age. He will
factor in this tournament and (ideally) land a contract with a club that fits
him better.
“A Syndicate Classic—Beyond Obsession”
Editor’s
Retroactive Notes:
Syndicate Member 131-M
once bristled at my intentionally exaggerated 2014 Statement that “More has
been written about the Super Eagles in our Syndicate than virtually any other
publication in the world.”
Of course it was a
joke ; )
Trouble is, your
friendly bookie has spent a ridiculously unconscionable amount of time
analyzing this team, mostly during the two 2013 tournaments and the 2014 retroactive
round. So much detailed research was invested during the Keshi Era combing
through African Football Blog and Periodicals. I can still furnish detailed
information about most of the players off the top of my head. Why? Because what
fascinates your friendly bookie invariably ends up consuming him, particularly
when he finds out he’s gotten everything wrong as was the case below. Pry me
away from arresting reading material at your own peril! Never once taken any of
that Adderall bullshit the kids mess with these days. No additional
concentration or focus needed here.
Those who stuck with
me through it all know who they are and proudly sport the “Super Eagle Jerseys”
they received in their Schwag Pack.
Er…still need someone
to tell me how to say “Go Eagles!” in either Yoruba or Hausa.
From CAN
2013—Semi-Finals:
Wednesday
Mali
vs. Nigeria
vs. 
It’s
the clash of the brave; two brave countries locked in the intractable struggle
for their basic liberties. Excuse me one moment as we here at the Syndicate
emphasize our allegiances thrice more.
FUCK
BOKO HARAM!
FUCK
ANSAR DINE!
FUCK
BOKO HARAM!
FUCK
ANSAR DINE!
FUCK
BOKO HARAM!
FUCK
ANSAR DINE!
I’ll
gladly continue to type those words until every last territorial hamlet dances
just like the recently liberated citizens of Timbuktu. Got a problem with it?
FUCK YOU. Send me a few more grossly
misspelled death threats. You only
embarrass yourselves.
As
of this installment, the party in Timbuktu rages on. Women proudly don their
ritual dress for the first time in over a year. Men publicly exercise their
inalienable right to congregate in the pub while watching a football game. On
paper the “Super Eagles” out-class the juxtaposing ragtag group one can only
refer to as the “Regular Eagles”. Many journalists surely salivate over the
prospect of a Malian upset and the Pulitzer-worthy post-game wrap-up that would
essentially write itself. Not only would the uplifting commentary about a
country embroiled in civil strife “united in the implausible miracle of their team’s
historic advance” magically appear on the page, the words, “The Nigerian curse
endures” would pop-up without the writer having to bite so much as one measly
cuticle.
This
bookie is prepared to buy stock in the upset…and not for any of the inherently
shallow reasons articulated above. Presently “Five Reasons Why Mali Will
Prevail”:
1)
Keshi under Pressure
Keshi’s
stubborn insistence on rolling out the 4-3-2-1 every match reflects a degree of
terminal obstinacy. More significantly, it tells us that he foolishly adheres
to a “suicide pact” of sorts. A certain someone has a certain something to
prove. Could it be that Mali was wrong to fire him just over three years ago?
Is that why he’s unwisely running his already half-empty tournament team
through twice-daily practices in the run-up to this match? Bad move. Mali coach
Patrice Carteron, by contrast, has the right idea. Let your players rest and
reflect. Allow their touch to sink in. Keshi may have a fully fit Kader, but
it’s entirely predictable that he’ll imprudently select a tired eleven…not to
mention roll out the same formation again.
2)
Mahamadou Samassa (1990) is no Boubacar Barry
Fresh
off his suspension, the Malian Number One won’t concede soft goals so readily;
precisely the type of soft goals that led the Super Eagles out of the group and
through the Quarterfinal Stages.
3)
The Keita/Maiga Dynamic
Traore
who? These two are clicking in ways that would induce wet dreams in most any
obsessed trainer/chemist/alchemist/chef/alcoholic…..you get the idea.
Coordination between opposite flanks remains the key. The wider one’s game is,
the more space for improvisation. Whereas chemists and alchemists may have less
flattering things to say on the topic on improvisation, chefs and alcoholics
will always be available to extol the virtues of chance. Mayonnaise and Gin? An
undercooked burger placed between two donuts? Stumble upon greatness. Keita and
Maiga have something in store for us. They’ll stretch the defense and open up
caverns of space. Keep an eye out for the “Goal of the Tournament”.
4)
Moses/Mikel Fatigue
Hell
with the clichéd ruminations on “tournament football”. These guys are running
on empty merely by virtue of the fact that they’re Premiership Players.
England’s ardent football fans demand the most grueling schedule in all of
professional sports. Their insatiable thirst is Africa’s loss. Calling it like
I see it.
5)
4-3-2-1 vs. 4-3-2-1
vs.
The
Royal “We” known as the Syndicate projects a C. Diabate start at center
forward. This notwithstanding, we’ll surely see Mahamadou Samassa (1986) get a
turn should the identical formations yield a stalemate. In the event that you
find yourself confused, welcome to the club. At times it feels as if the Malian
squad features 23 “Diabates”, 14 “Diakites”, 47 “Coulibalys”, and 22
“Diakites”, and 108 “Diarras”. As if all of that weren’t enough, the current
lead striker and first-string keeper are both named “Mahamadou Samassa”. The
two happen to be cousins, and the only way of distinguishing them is to parenthetically
note the year of their birth. Na, hevorragend. Will we see 1990 kick start a
counter attack to his fresh-legged recently inserted cousin 1986 in the 102nd
minute? Not giving odds on that one, but what would Carteron have to lose if
the two sides canceled one another out?
Much
respect for Keshi, who led Togo to a heroic 2006 World Cup Qualification before
the numbskulled football association sacked him in favor of Otto “Iron”
Pfister. The time will come for him to finally exorcize his demons….just not
yet.
Let’s
hit the button…..UPSET ALERT!
THE
LINE: Mali +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT: Nigeria 4,
Mali 1. Oh Christ. Not liking how much work explaining away this one is going
to be. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Would an eloquently written contrition such as,
“Duh….I done not thunk with my headbone” suffice? No…alright let’s break her
down then.
1) Keshi under
pressure
Keshi rolled out (more
or less) the exact same 4-3-2-1 he used to defeat Cote d’Ivoire. (He simply
flipped Onazi and John Obi Mikel). If anyone was tired I must have missed it.
Whether or not Keshi had revenge on his mind turned out to be immaterial. The
early lead allowed him to play the safe tactician.
2) Mahmadou
Samasssa (1990) is no Boubacar Barry
I’d have taken Barry
in this one. Note that you friendly bookie also misspelled the player’s name
incorrectly……for he 352,234,984,912nd time.
3)
The Keita/Maiga Dynamic
At
least I was right about mayonnaise and gin. These two did nothing other than
get booked.
4)
Moses/Mikel Fatigue
Moses
only played 53 minutes, but he made it count. Mikel did indeed mostly sit back
and defend, but who the hell needed him when Emmenike, Mba, and Onazi were in
such fine form?
5)
4-3-2-1 vs. 4-3-2-1
vs.
This
one was just plain fucking stupid. It’s all fine and good to discuss formations
when one squad relies upon an unconventional one, but highly skilled
internationals will make what they wish out of twenty players assigned to
standard fare. That being said, I’ll try no make no more than 30 stupid fucking
predictions based on formations in this summer’s tournament.
One-way
traffic for the Super Eagles even before Elderson sent in the spectacular
opener in the 20th. Moses outright embarrassed Maiga by sweeping past him on
the right flank. He then chipped a low-driven cross that Echiejele did a
superior job of anticipating. The Braga Left Back dropped to his knees and
headed home off of a bounce. Keshi’s lads rolled with the momentum. Ideye Brown
tipped in the second five minutes later. Emmenike and Brown found themselves
well ahead of the last line of defense. A desperate sliding tackle by N’Diaye
couldn’t prevent Brown from collected Emmenike’s cross. It only served to prod
the effort in. Capping a sensational half, Brown pummeled in a free kick in the
44th via a deflection off the wall.
Emmenike
wasn’t finished yet either. He sprung substitute Ahmed Musa past the offside
trap at the hour mark. The CSKA forward dribbled a full thirty yards and
finished between Samassa’s legs to put matters beyond any doubt. Musa might
have grabbed a brace were it not for a borderline offside call five minutes
later. The consolation prize “Les Aigles” grabbed in the 75th was
wholly unremarkable. Chieck Diabate cut back for Chieck Diarra. Ho hum.
Iceland—“Strakarnir Okkar”
In the boldest projection I’m prepared to make in this
group, I’ll portend that the party will come to a crashing halt for the “Children
of the Thunderclap”. All parties must come to an end sometime, and it’s time to
call a taxi for this anomalous bizarre micro-state that continues to confound
all logic. End of Line! Promise you I didn’t skimp on my research here. I’ve
scouted recent friendlies that the team participated in. They’ve been getting
spanked. I even did some legwork on the players and teams in Iceland’s four
domestic football divisions. Yes. Iceland has FOUR domestic football divisions.
WHAT?! How in the hell can this country have FOUR domestic football divisions?
I don’t care if two of them are semi-pro, that’s still 24 professional rosters.
Who supports them? I swear these screwy people are underreporting their
population statistics. That’s the only explanation.
Journalists, commentators, and amateur oddsmakers struggle
to explain this country’s rise absent clichés such as “sound fundamental
teamwork”, “strength of the collective”, and “hive-like execution”. I won’t
disguise my preference for the last one. That’s the answer. They’re aliens; a
bunch of spirit Thetans still hovering around the volcanoes.
Of course one can find the real answer in the recent
friendlies. They’re finally getting properly scouted and getting outmaneuvered.
Too many teams in Euro 2016 didn’t invest enough time in studying their elven. They
snuck into the Knockouts thanks to a diluted field and upset the English—as if
that was something novel to begin with—a mere few days after Brexit left most
of the professional players wondering about how it might affect their future
status on the transfer market.
True they topped what was deemed a tough qualifying group,
but the Turks and Ukrainians weren’t very competitive this cycle and they
struggled against the likes of Finland and Kosovo. Furthermore, they looked
less than stellar splitting victories with the Croats.
The world has taken notice of them now. It looks as if
they’ll be trotting out almost the exact same eleven as they’ve been fielding
for the last two years. The only possible surprises are Albert Guomundsson and
Horour Bjorgvin Magnusson. The former is a hot young prospect who plays for
PSV. He recently scored a hat trick for the national side….against Indonesia.
Yeah. It’s a mite early to label him some sort of X-Factor.
Lately they resemble a team completely out of ideas.
Perfectly understandable. Perfectly predictable. Perfect pick to finish dead last.
Do enjoy the Thunderclap, though. That’s some good stuff.
Question: Why do some Icelanders spell their last names with
“sson” and others “son”? Some sort of rural/urban divide or something?
Projecting the Icelandic Lineup (4-4-2)
J. D. Boovarsson A Finnbogason
|
B. Bjarnason J.B. Guomundsson
|
G. Sigurosson A. Gunnarsson
|
H.B. Magnusson B.M. Saeversson
|
K. Arnason R. Sigurosson
|
H. Halldorsson
|
The Talisman—Gylfi Sigurosson 
It is true that the Icelanders feature many players who’ve
nailed down starting positions for well-known clubs..if one may consider
Augsburg, Rostov, Cardiff City, Aston Villa, Lokeren, and Burnley “well-known
clubs”. I happen to, so I’m familiar with these players. Pretty much everyone
else just knows Gylfi Sigurosson. He’s a solid player paid well for his talents
in midfield flight direction as well as his ability to unleash long-range
strikes.
He might have a moment or two in store for us.
“A Syndicate
Classic—Mind-bending Microcosm”
Editor’s
Retroactive Notes:
Still
can’t wrap my head around it. Can anyone else? It doesn’t make sense! Where do
they find all these people from? What the Ejjafjallajokulling fuck is going
on?!?
Some
get me Jon Gnarr! Only he can explain this. I want to see him. I must know!!
Actually,
I’d pay good money to just to spend an evening listening to Jon Gnarr period.
Have a hunch he could explain a lot about life in general. He’s the man.
From
EM 2016—Group F Preview Iceland—“Strakarnir Okkar”
Now
wait a second. I thought that we were covering a Men’s Football tournament.
What are the “Ice-Dottirs” doing here? This makes no sense. We’ve all been
charmed by this little eccentric Isle of 320,000 people that somehow manages to
always deliver us interesting Documentary Films detailing the diverse
livelihoods of the sparse amount of people living on this tiny volcanic island
where no trees dare to grow. What is going on here? The last time your friendly
bookie flew back from Europe, he went through Reykjavik on “Iceland Air”.
During the Transatlantic Journey, he watched six hours of Documentaries on
Icelandic Peasant Farmers.
None
of this makes any sense. Your friendly bookie has also “shadow-written” a few
papers for Icelandic students. How can a country with a population smaller than
most American Southern Cities have room for both peasant farmers and budding
scholars? What the hell is going on here? These peculiar descendants of
shark-hunters continue to perplex me. What the dottir-ing fuck is up? Your
friendly bookie was raised in a Southern U.S. City of at least 400,000 outlying
occupants. There were plenty of farmers and dedicated scholars among us…but
that’s because there’s 340 Million people in the country!
It
might be the case the Iceland is just a weird microcosm of humanity as a whole.
It’s still fucked up. I’ll never be able to fully accept it. ; )
Croatia—“The Blazers”
Surely there will be plenty of more grumbling this year about
the unruly, uncouth, unkempt, and unwashed Croat fans in this tournament. Everyone
knows how infuriating I find those bloody flares. Why can’t we retire this
primitive and dangerous tradition? Say what you will about the Vuvuzelas. They
didn’t endanger any lives. Every year it’s the same story. Your friendly bookie
strives so hard to write cogent and thoughtful analysis about the history of
this proud footballing nation and its team. Then some dipshit hooligans light
up their damn flares and we have to dig up the old anti-Eastern European rants.
Sigh. Not looking forward to this. There’s every reason to suspect that these
drunken fucktards will feel even more at home in Russia.
Very few changes to report. Dejan Lovren takes over from
Dario Srjna. That’s about it. Mario Mandzukic is still projected to start alone
up top even though he’s well past his prime. Perisic, Rakitic, and Modric still
make the first eleven despite their advancing age. Inter’s Marcelo Brozovic moves
up along with Real’s Mateo Kovacic to form a reassembled midfield designed to
generate more forward momentum.
New head coach Zlato Dalic appears nothing more than a
cosmetic change. The same basic system remains in place. The above minor
alterations compensate for the fluctuating form of the regulars.
Yawn. How madly uninteresting. Sadly, there’s too many
weapons on the squad to augur that they won’t make it through. Provided
everyone remains at their post and executes, they should be just fine.
Perhaps we’ll get a break from them in two-years-time when
two thirds of this team retire. Looking forward to it.
Projecting the Croat Lineup (4-3-2-1)
Mario Mandzukic
|
Ivan Perisic Ivan
Rakitic M. Brozovic
|
Mateo Kovacic Luka Modric
|
Ivan Strinic Sime Vrsaljko
|
Vedran Corluka Dejan Lovren
|
Daniel Subasic
|
The Talisman—Luka Modric
For some reason I selected Rakitic as the Talisman two years
ago. I lauded his “sixth gear” and intimated that he was about to break out.
Hmm…might have been some Schalke bias combined with a bit of booze. Modric is
the real star of this team. He handles all of the distribution and tempo.
Whether or not this team will have a pulse in the opening round depends
entirely upon him.
“A Syndicate Classic—Tenacious Turkmen
to the Rescue”
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
Why don’t we dispense
with the usual name calling? Even I grow tired of those profanity-laced
diatribes.
Alternately, I present
one of the most memorable matches in Syndicate History. Remember this cracker
from the 2008 Cycle, brothers?
I remember my old
palm-sized text-phone vibrating like a damn power-tool!
From
EM 2008—Quarterfinals
Friday
Croatia
vs. Turkey
vs. 
How
could I have doubted you, dearest Turks? This is your year! With the Greeks
gone, you now have an important responsibility, as "the ugliest team the
tournament" Don't let me down!
One
wonders if we’re in store for another fantastic finish. The Turks get two of
their injured defenders back to play adjacent to a possessed Hamit Altintop.
Nihat and Tuncay have us all asking Emre WHO? The crescent Stars don’t need
their captain. They make do. “You have to believe!” Can they win without
suspended goalkeeper Voltan Demirel? “You have to believe!” Well, considering
backup Rüstü Recber has 116 Caps and led the Turks to the 2002 Semifinals, it’s
not that much of a leap of faith. What
about the suspended charismatic midfielder Mehmet Aurelio? “You have to
believe!” What about the injured Mehmet Topal? Enough of your cheap skepticism.
“You have to believe!”
THE
LINE: Turkey +1 Goal
Editor’s
retroactive notes:
RESULT:
Turkey 2, Croatia 1. (3:1 PSO) I sincerely doubt we’ll witness something like
this again. One hundred and twenty minutes. Two goals. One coming in the 120th,
with the equalizer following in the 123rd. After beating away solid
efforts from Kranjcar, Ollic and Klasnic for 119 minutes, Rüstü understandably
had a lapse in concentration, giving away a rebound to Modric. Modric flipped
for Klasnic, who headed in what was sure to be the game winner.
The
celebration was deemed excessive and thus the Italian referee judged he would
allow a few more seconds tick to away after the announced two minutes of injury
time. As he glanced at his watch, lips on the whistle, right hand in the air he
elected to tolerate one last effort from a rushing Semih Semtürk who had just
stepped inside the box. Sentürk let fly and, thanks to the slightest of
deflections of Robert Kovak, beat Slipe Pletikosa in the far post. It is
EXTREMELY rare to hear the final whistle blow right as the ball strikes the
back of the net.
Croat
Coach Slaven Billic went apeshit. All across the university gym where I was
watching, corn-fed American doofuses dropped their weights and remarked, “Wow..that
was pretty cool dude.” I, literally a
nanosecond away from losing a great deal of money for my sympathetic Turkish
leanings, dropped to my knees and communed with Jesus and the Angels like that five-year-old
during his emergency appendectomy. A shoot-out win counts as a one-goal
victory. The tenacious Turkmen, Rüstü Recber, and I saw the quickest reversal
of fortunes ever. Never again will life turn around so fast.
Arda,
Sentürk, and Altintop all converted their penalties. Rüstü saved Modric, Rakatic,
and Petric. The weights stayed down all throughout the University of Missouri
workout lair and even the roided-up guys watched the shootout intently. That’s
international football, gentlemen. Most of those guys likely couldn’t have
found these two countries on a map.
Nevertheless, they remained enraptured for ten grunt-free minutes.
“You
have to believe!”
Vicey’s
Fearless Group Prediction (Straight Up Odds for bookie)
1)
Argentina 2)
Croatia 3)
Nigeria 4)
Iceland
Overall
Championship Odds
Argentina (3 to 1) Croatia (12 to 1) Nigeria (20 to 1) Iceland (50 to 1)
Round
of 16 Odds
Argentina (NO BETS) Croatia (NO BETS) Nigeria (Straight Up) Iceland (3 to 1)
Quarterfinal
Odds
Argentina (NO BETS) Croatia (Straight up) Nigeria (5 to 1) Iceland (12 to 1)
Semifinal
Odds
Argentina (2 to 1) Croatia (8 to 1) Nigeria (12 to 1) Iceland (25 to 1)
