Oh, just shut way the hell up...

So, I'm at the car dealership getting some work done on the car. No biggie. And I notice that they have a television in the lobby and - hey! - the Switzerland-Ukraine match should still be in the second half right now.

I look around, no one's even glancing at the TV. So I'm looking at the staffer, soon as they look up - I'm going to ask them if they could switch it to ESPN.

And there's this lady there. Middle-age type. Groomed. She's giving me the eye like she's afraid I'm going to ask to change the channel or something. She just sat down, but is clearly agitated in some way.

The staffer looks up, and I ask if she can switch the TV over to ESPN. I smile "it's the World Cup."

Middle age lady pipes up. "Ugh. Soccer! Bo-o-o-ring!"

I smile and say what I always say to people like this, "It's the only game the world plays."

Staffer is fiddling with the controls and making nothing but static.

Middle age pauses, like she's overstepped "I'm just kidding you." Then she finds her stride, "but if we're taking a vote, I'd like to watch 'Guiding Light.'"

Staffer can't figure out why the TV is displaying static or CNN. I realize that she's adjusting the TV and not the cable box, but at this point - it's really not worth it. Switzerland is typically pulseless, and Ukraine hasn't exactly been a wow-fest. And, truth be told, I really don't care who wins. This was just a way to pass the time.

I sit down and resign myself to the lobby magazines. Middle age now wants to be my friend. "I read an article about soccer just the other day."

I start to mutter some affirmation, but she continues.
"It was about Beckham. I guess he won the game. I saw his movie."

Inside, my self-control is holding my reflexive response at gunpoint.
"Bend it like Beckham?" is the only phrase it will allow to escape.

She's glad that we're friends now, "Yes, that was a great movie."

I dive into my magazine, and don't come up until the mechanic arrives to tell her she can leave.
---------
Ok, I'll spare you the the "Becks is a one-trick show-pony" rant and the "He's not even in the damn movie, you witless twonk," rant.

I'll even sidestep the classic "There are only two stories about soccer for you, right? 'Beckham/Posh did something' and 'US loses'"
We'll also skip the ever-popular "Boring? This country has a Golf Channel. We televise the pro-bowling tour. There are dozens upon dozens of fishing shows!!!!"

-But I do have to have one rant: the "Why don't you just shut the hell up, lady?" rant. I mean really, if she'd have beaten me to the punch and asked for Guiding Light - I would't have said, "Soap operas? Stu-pid!" I'd have looked for a magazine and kept my mouth shut.

I mean, what the hell? Who does that? Snarks a complete stranger's TV choice out loud in a roomful of people?

Some other day, she's telling her book club how the younger generation has no manners. Well, from my generation: Just shut way the hell up, lady.

Crash

Scoreline - June 22, 2006
Ghana: 2
Dramani 21'; Appiah 46' PK
United States: 1
Dempsey 42'

And so it ends. Another four-year campaign resulting in a single point, and another first round exit. The team crawled into a hole vs. the Czechs and never managed to claw their way out.

Italy tried to help us (Having trouble? We'll send one of our guys off. Need a goal? We'll put one in for you. Beat the Czechs? Ok.) but two players sent off and a a bogus PK vs. Ghana just wore us down.

The second round was laid out on a platter, and we just couldn't be bothered to attack with any numbers. Our midfielders service was terrible, our strikers were pulseless wonders (excepting Dempsey and Johnson), and any time we managed to get some momentum - something wouldn't go our way, and we'd lose all composure.

I'd love to blame the refs - but this was all on us. If you'd have told me before the tournament that we'd have tied Italy (playing a man down for a half) and then lose to Ghana, I'd have said you were nuts.

Well, it happened. I saw every minute of it. But that's soccer.

Abomination

Scoreline, Jun 17, 2006 -
Italy:1
United States: 1
Gilardino 22'; Zaccardo 27' o.g.

"We bled for our country," read the quotes. Yes, Brian McBride had his head split open, and yes we defended like lions. All true.

But lost in all the screaming about if Pope and Pablo deserved to be kicked out is the simple fact that we still haven't managed a goal in two games, and Claudio is playing like total crap.

Clint Dempsey is combining and charging forward like a maniac in the first half. Every time he gives it to Claudio, all momentum ceases while Reyna takes a moment for himself, and then passes the ball to no one. Claudio's service is crap, balls sent into the teeth of the defense, or miles away from their supposed targets.

Compare Reyna's performace with Piro's and you'll see why the US couldn't bash in a goal when we were a man up for over twenty minutes.

We can defend. But defense alone is just sitting around daring your opponent to beat you.

Oh, and the Ref was way outta line on Pope. No way that's a yellow, right off the bat. Pope was getting beat all day, if the ref wanted to be a pro - all he had to do was give Pope a warning, and wait for the inevitable screw up. Then he could throw him out with his head high.

Go Italy.

The only game the world plays

"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I'm very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that."
-Bill Shankly, celebrated coach of Liverpool FC

When life falls apart, you go to your comfort zone. For me, at least - the World Cup has arrived at a good time. MLS is merely fast food, but the World Cup is a month-long feast at the French Laundry.
Two weeks of three games a day, where the best in the world going get medieval on each other.

This year’s tourney has been a minor goal-fest (2.5 goals per game, - thank you, Argentina), with many of them last minute game-breakers, and there have been some sparkling performances:

• Dutch striker Arjen Robben was a holy terror in both of his countries victories – hopefully he’ll break out in the round of sixteen against the likes of Mexico or Portugal.


• Paraguay’s Nelson Valdez, the only ray of light on an otherwise outclassed (and homeward-bound) squad. He was all attack, all the time. Something a lot of clubs would love to have.
  
• Sweden’s just-in-time winger, Freddie Ljungberg, saving the day in the closing minutes vs. Paraguay. (Tell ‘em who he plays for! Arsenal!! Damn right.)
  
• Ecuador! What the hell got into these guys? Demolishing Poland and Costa Rica Like it ain’t no thang… Germany’s set for the next round, so Ecuador might pick up the group if the Deutchlanders take it too easy.
  
• Match of the tourney so far? Croatia vs. Brasil. Great game, and even after Croatia lost, Croatia’s fans were rocking the stadium with pride at how their team gave Brasil all they could handle. Brasil played well, but seemed a bit hampered by the fact that Ronaldinho is perhaps the ugliest man on the planet.

*sigh* and then there was that other match… you know, the one where the US team was supposed to give a message to the world.

Yeah, well if the message was “Hey, you unwashed European-types, can one of you teach us how to play soccer?” I think you can safely say the Czechs heard us loud and clear.

Three nothing, and it should have been worse. Two goals for Tomas Rosicki (Tell ‘em who he plays for! Arsenal!! Damn right.) and he’d nearly bagged a third.

Our defense was crap. Our midfield and offense would have been crap if they had bothered showing up at all.

Here’s the problem with the US: We have no stone-killers in our lineup. Not one. Eddie Johnson has some game, but only because he’s too young and foolish to be intimidated. All damn game, our guys are waiting for the ball, backs to the goal. “Not my job.” Losers, every damn one of them.

We need a Romario, “I am a striker. Give me the ball.” We need a guy who’s only decision point is “After I put this in, how long should I celebrate?”

The Czech’s top striker goes out with a hamstring around halftime and they don’t even notice. Us, we’re lucky to have one guy who remembers where the other net is.
“Excuse me, Pavel, could you direct me to your net…?”

So now it’s all on Saturday’s match vs. Italy. Win or go home. Mathematically, we could stay alive with a tie – but that’s like saying Trinidad and Tobago are still in it. Oh sure, hope springs eternal – and Italy could still feeb – but I’ve been down that road before (France 1998 i.e. LAST FREAKING PLACE), not doing that again.

No, I’m reserving my hope for teams like Ecuador and the Netherlands. Somebody’s got to stop Brasil from getting six.

Housekeeping

Of the numerous minor projects that have soaked up the hours recently, DSL is the by far the most distracting.

Yes, I’ve finally broadbanded and while I’m happy with the speed, there are a number of side effects that are turning into larger complications.

Case in point: My email address of six plus years is going away.

Anyone looking to reach me where you’ve been finding me all this time – sorry, but I’m gone. I’m at my gmail address, E’s at hers, and if I ever get all our subscriptions and logins consolidated into the new address, I’ll start telling people what it is.

On hold

E's with her dad now. I'm at work. Mom's been here with the boy for the week.

She's overhauled the entire house, and now we're headed north to join up with E. E's dad's showing all kinds of mixed signs, so there's no way to know what's next.

No weekend plans, E's back home next week, but not sure for how long. Her sister has taken family leave for the duration.

There is no elegant way for any of this to happen, so we do what we must - and the rest gets bumped.

All fall down

Five a.m., we get a phone call. It's E's sister, and so we brace. E's dad's in the hospital, and we're not expecting good news.

E's folks both have cancer. Her dad for a long time, her mom was diagnosed only late last year. Both are unable to drive, but manage to stay relatively independent.

Yesterday, E's dad felt so ill, that they called 911. Her dad began treatments while her mom waited. One of the nurses noticed that E's mom didn't look terribly well herself. She was examined, taken to the ER. and treated for pneumonia.

That was sixteen hours ago. Now E's sister is calling to tell us that the hospital doesn't believe E's mom will last the day.

We pack in a rush and are out the door before seven.

Eight thirty, we're still over an hour away, we get VM from her sister "Call me, now."
E's mother passed away at 8:12 a.m. We drive for ten minutes in stunned silence. E's sister was just up for the weekend to visit. Last week we'd been up - E's mom was fine. Hungry, active, upbeat.

Not the plan.