Well, the World Cup is finally finished. No disrespect to Court Sullivan and all the other people out there who love watching soccer, but well, I'm glad the damn thing is over.
I think the American perspective of The World Cup can best be defined by my friend and favorite bar manger, Moe. Moe wore a USA soccer jersey into his bar until the US was eliminated from contention. Then, he switched to his Brazil shirt. For the last game, he wore an Italia jersey. Yeah, we love this game over here. No really, we do.
Here is a list of everything I like about the World Cup:
1) The hot chicks that show up covered in paint and end up getting their photos put on the net.
2) All the drinking.
3) The crazy fans. These guys put American fans to shame. You have to hand it to soccer fans. They make Eagles fans look sane by comparison. That can't be an easy trick.
Here is a list of everything I don't like about the World Cup:
1) The players are athletic and everything, but well, they're playing soccer.
2) They'll let a tie get broken by penalty kicks. This is quite possibly the stupidest thing about soccer. These guys just waited four years and played for almost a month so the entire world could pick its greatest soccer team by some fluke kicks? I mean, really. Even playoff hockey never ends with shootouts. Finish the damn game, all ready. Commies.
3) Did I mention that they're playing soccer, which means they can't use their hands and they are obligated to fake injuries.
4) Extra minutes. Look, why can't you just stop the damn clock? Seriously, where's the downside here? Stop the clock and then we'll always know exactly how much time is left. I don't trust some referee (or whoever does it?wait, who the hell does keep that time?) to tell me how much extra time is left. If you stopped the clock when that time was accruing, I wouldn't have to worry about it. I can't believe the whole world just accepts this. It's like the Spice Girls all over again.
Anyway, I was up at The Smoky Pool Hall for the tail end of the World Cup. I watched the fans in Rome rejoice and light flares. I watched a bunch of Italian people hug each other. And, when it was all said and done, and the juke box was back on, I heard my buddy Carl say the following:
“Well, four more years until we have to worry about this shit, again.”
And I for one, could wait five.