U.S. Team Whips Algerian Legs (and Other Storylines of the World Cup)

Posted: June 22, 2010 in Sports
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The U.S. has made it through the group stage, winning group C with a grand total of 5 points.  Not exactly domination, but since this is the first time we’ve won a group since booze was illegal in the country, I think we’ll take it.  The game was truly incredible.  I was riveted, despite being forced to listen to it on the radio while dodging skinny-jeaned, clog wearing thespians at my campus delivery job.  Not even the all-too-present eye-flagellating of multiple dudes in man-capris could make this victory less sweet.

This was just the latest in a long line of fascinating World Cup stories.  Clearly the United States getting through is the biggest story of them all, but as I’m sure we’ll all be inundated with reports and tearful interviews of Landon Donovan for the next 3 days, here’s what else I’ve found interesting.

The French team proved themselves to be. . .well, French.  I told a friend yesterday that the French wound up looking like D-Bagguettes and I only felt a mild amount of self-loathing for the terrible joke.  Earlier in the week I heard that Zinedine Zidane had come out and claimed to be embarrassed by the team’s behavior.  This guy is embarrassed by how poorly the team reacted to the pressure of the World Cup.

They’ve made a royal mess of their initial games and are now out of the tournament.  In collapsing, or should I say retreating, the French have made my one-sided, culturally ignorant view of them feel more validated.  For their fries, their toast, and champagne, I thank them.  For everything else. . .I hope Zidane’s waiting for them at the airport with a metal helmet on.

Another fascinating sub-plot of this year’s Cup is the blatant, and bastardly, calls by the referees against the U.S.  One idiot stands above the other for his screw-job of our country.  His shafting of the United States makes Benedict Arnold seem like a god-fearing patriot.  That man’s name is Koman Coulibaly.  You don’t know him, I don’t know him.  In fact, hardly anyone knew who this Malian referee was in the good ‘ole U.S. of A until he popped in more LSD than Hendrix and vividly gave us all a taste of his bad trip.  Anyone could’ve seen that he was wrong.  Ray Charles could’ve seen how bad a call that was, and he’s blind. . .and dead.  What appeared to be a catastrophe of “Bay of Pigs” proportions for the team, was only avoided by a whole lot of hard work and tenacity.

Just when you thought Coulibaly’s reffing was the crap-de-la-crap of the Cup, Frank De Bleeckere stepped in and engineered his own near-catastrophe.  Calling the U.S. offsides on a close play, he nearly cost our country the entire tournament.  The rap sheet of feloniously poor officiating stretches out nearly as long as that of one O.J. Simpson.  Nearly.

The Vuvuzela’s have gotten a ton of coverage.  And yeah, the Vuvuzela’s suck.  Yes.  Their droning, bellowing hum constantly makes me think that some kind of 747 is about to crash land on the middle of the field and stop play with a live episode of “Lost”.  However, the only noise that is more annoying than the plastic trumpets themselves is the constant whine of the announcers complaining about the vuvuzelas.  Trust me, British guy, we can hear the damn noise that’s drowning out your half-cockney accent.  We get it, Chris Fowler who should always stick to football, you aren’t a fan of the noise washing over your well-coiffed, Just-for-Men-Gell’d-up hair.

The English team, too, has struggled to find the back of the net.  It turns out that British guys are as good at scoring goals as they are at cleaning up Oil.  The team from England came to South Africa with massive expectations, ranked 8th in the world by FIFA, and has pulled a Tony Hayward and failed to deliver.  Wayne Rooney, lacking his crotch-stomping confidence from 2006, has been stymied by defenses from Algeria and the United States.  However, the English were able to pull out a 1-0 win today and advance to the next round.  God save the Queen, and especially save whoever Peter Crouch’s orthodontist is.

That’s all for now, but look for a United States V.S. Ghana drinking game post sometime in the near future because I desperately want to design one.



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