Mi Copa del Mundo

To those who didn't know Dani Jarque, Andrés introduced him to 750 million people.

With one swing of his favored right leg, Andrés Iniesta ended World Cup 2010.  Andrés is no stranger to late-game heroics for his club, FC Barcelona.  He and Xavi Hernandez are the engine room for the nuclear powered destroyers of club and country.  Their creativity in the midfield has been unsurpassed by any tandem the past two or three years.  Spain deserve their World Cup.  They are the most creative.  They are the most skilled.  Most importantly to me, and as an example to all other footballing nations, they showed the most conviction.  They stuck to their game plan.  No matter how “anti-football” squads became, they stuck to their guns.  Although they were placed under great scrutiny for their insistence on passing the ball into the net by Europeans and their own countrymen, they are the ones holding the trophy now.  They have the star above their emblem.  They have elevated Spain to the top of the world like Ferdinando and Isabella, like Picasso.  These artists’ work wasn’t disjointed and chaotic.  They won beautifully, gracefully and with confidence.  Something we haven’t seen at a World Cup since Italia ’90.

Alright, now. Since Americans love lists (I should know because I do too), here’s some of my favorite moments/developments from this wonderful World Cup.

  • Siphiwe Tshabalala‘s goal against Mexico was probably touted as goal of the tournament before another goal was even scored in the World Cup.  You could feel the power, fervor, and determination of Africa in that shot.  The accuracy was perfect.  When that ball sailed into the top-right corner, I thought to myself, “Fuck, this might be Africa’s tournament to lose.” How wrong I was.
  • By the fourth minute of the United States match against England, I had my head in my hands.  The ball was in the back of the net and Tim Howard had only Ricardo Clark to blame.  NO! Not again.  Not here.  Please.  What did we do to deserve this.  What lessons did we forget to learn from 2006?  Was England just toying with the world when they had put up stinkers against Mexico and Japan in friendlies before the tournament.  Maybe we were never meant to be here.  We have no right.  Then Clint Dempsey and Robert Green shared a moment that will have a special place in Anglo-American relations for a very long time.  Both our diplomats from London clubs, no not Chelsea and Arsenal, West Ham and Fulham, joined to give the United States the 1-1 victory. A victory in the strict moral and ethical sense. The English, arrogant and bloated, determined to waltz through the group could only muster a pitiful 5 points.  Only goal differential separated the small footballing nation of the United States with the inventors of the “game”.  I hope England can fix themselves before Euro 2012.  It’s always hard watching a girl who peaked in high school still trying to convince the world she’s the belle of the ball.
  • I have been the biggest Spain hater for several years now.  I was never convinced of their ability to win big matches or scrape out victories.  In their first match, Spain was on the wrong end of a 1-0 decision against Switzerland.  Fernandes’s goal, resulting from a mad, scattered dash on the counter attack ended with a bloody Pique on the ground and the ball in the back of the net.  I was certain that was the end of Spain’s World Cup.  Again, I was wrong.
  • Watching Italy lose to Slovakia and by the end of tournament-play being in last place behind New Zealand, a country known for sheep, rocky beaches, Lord of the Rings, and being named after a mildly retarded, flightless bird.
  • I fell asleep during the 7-0 Portugal v. People’s Republic of Korea match.
  • By the end of group play I was convinced this was a South American summer.  The only team to have LOST a game from North, Central, and South America all tournament was Honduras. The semis might have turned into a mini-Copa America. I’ll have to wait until next summer.
  • Not necessarily a moment but a development, the lack of African nations that made it out of group play was astounding.  Perhaps, the world was expecting too much.  The continent is in shambles after all.  Ghana was the only one to get out.  They handled the United States’s attack and countered with greater efficiency that the Americans.  The Africans were more determined that the United States.  If only determination could swat down arms that prevent a squad from being the first African nation to reach the semis in a World Cup.
  • I had the Dutch winning the World Cup in my two brackets.  One I made before the tournament.  The other one I made after group play.  As the first nation to qualify for the cup, I believed that the Netherlands were finally over themselves.  They had decided that playing harshly, with strength and power, not grace, would win them this World Cup.  They were doing it well too.  Van Bommel and De Jong bossed around teams’ midfielders all tournament.  Against Brazil, they threw caution to the wind and pushed and shoved their way to a 2 -1 victory.  They had slain the stumbling dragon Brazil.  They had beaten the favorites.  I assumed the rest of the tournament had become a formality.  The recent history of the tournament had taught me that the rough ones, the hard-nosed brawlers were to win this World Cup.  The Dutch, I felt, were this year’s Italy.  They were the Brazil of ’94.  They had the quality up top but the tenacity and hard-workers in the back.  It was theirs to lose.  They did.
  • Officiating…
  • Anelka telling that “bitch” Domenech to “fuck off”, and the French FA, not Domenech, sending Anelka back home.  Perhaps the French were more upset by Anelka’s preference of the Anglo-Saxon “fuck” and “bitch” than Domenech was at Anelka’s disrespect? The fallout from this episode was something so beautiful it could really only have been French actors in this tragedy.
  • German Youth… in black shirts. Oh, the jokes that were made.

There are so many other moments that I can’t think at this moment that I would love to write about.  This was a great World Cup, no matter how many people are still convinced that it was “plagued” by low scores.

Soccer fans, and those new to the sport. 1-0, 0-0, and 1-1 results are not always boring.  Goals do not make a match.  Tension and release.  That’s what makes good football. Like a masterfully crafted concerto there is nothing like conflict and resolution, even in its smallest and sometimes incalculable measurements.  It was just frustrating to hear people complain about the lack of quality football, when the opera was playing right before their eyes and ears.

Alright, now real football begins. Chelsea Chelsea!

-dago

Going out.

We meet again, Gort.  I certainly hope you brought your dancing shoes, bitch.
We meet again, Gort. I certainly hope you brought your dancing shoes, bitch.

The joke is, “There are only two certainties in life, death and taxes.”  It’s a stupid joke, mostly told by old Republicans, but it’s entirely true.  We’re all going to die.  What’s important is how we do it.  I’m not the first person to say this and I won’t be the last, but I’m not going out like no bitch.  If there’s a global war with Neo-Nazi zombies sent from space to invade Earth and they happen to stumble into South Austin, those undead mother fuckers better watch out, because this guy ain’t going out like no punk-ass mark, ya heard?  If this were December 8, 1941, I would be suiting up to punch some Japs in the face for good old Uncle Sam, regardless of whether or not Ken Burns would mention me in his documentary about America at war or not.  America doesn’t go out like no pussy, and I don’t either.

I want to go out fighting like 19 ninjas.  I’d kill 18, and the 19th one turns into a 30-foot robot that shoots lasers out of its eyes.  After a 3-hour battle which involves Megan Fox, the “Most Interesting Man in the World” and Harrison Ford in some way, I get taken out by the robot.  After completing its mission of killing me, the robot self-destructs and blows up a chunk of South Congress, preferably where those new SoCo Lofts are or those stupid trailers set up shop.  In the aftermath, I want there to be a song written about me like “Candle in the Wind” or something just legit as fuck like “Crossroads“, and have it written by Francis Scott Key’s distant nephew Steve. (I miss my Uncle Charles, y’all!)

Anyway, I really don’t have many specific goals for my life.  I just want to get my PhD, teach and be happy.  I think it’ll work itself out from there.  There is, however, one goal that I have to follow through on, and that is not to get lamed, pwnd, pwnt, owned, lolled or rofled in a manner that would be stupid and totally my n00bish fault.  I seriously don’t want to end up getting a Darwin Award or winding up on the local news getting ridiculed for being found dead after trying to race a train or something.

The Highlander never has to worry about this.  He knows his death will be epic.  He will probably yell something like, “RUN! Save yourself!” [chop]

[head rolls on floor]

[cue sweet lightning and Queen song]

I don’t know why I’m so focused on death.  It might be the whole Caradine-McMahon-Fawcett-Mays sadness going around (No, I’m not at all sad about Michael Jackson).  I don’t think I’m afraid to die.  Knowing that everyone does it makes it seem so much more acceptable.  At least no one is getting a free pass.  All of you are going to die. :P  And that’s okay.  My parents are going to die, and that’s alright.  We all end up in the same place.

I’m just concerned about how much I will miss when I do die.  I will miss out on watching Scientology become the largest religion in the world.  I’m going to miss the rise and fall of Michael Jackson’s Zombie Army.  I will miss Carl Weathers become America’s Third Black President after Obama and Morgan Freeman.  (Everyone from the movie Predator has to hold public office–except for “Billy”, he’s a Native American.)  I’m going to miss the 2 Girls 1 Cup made-for-TV movie produced by Hallmark.  I’m going to miss Perez Hilton… just straight miss him.

I’m going to miss out on a lot of things.

I enjoy life a lot.  As lame as life might seem for a lot of us, there is so much to appreciate.  I never got why Christians are so damn ready to die.  They’re all in such a rush to get to heaven.  Life is already pretty bitchin’.  I just don’t want it to end with me being videotaped and the footage being used in a new Faces of Death video.

On second thought, Faces of Death was pretty sweet,

Dago