Mourn me

June 29 – 2008

Today, I will awake to the smell of elk steaks and biscuits. I will roll out of the hide-a-bed and into the kitchen. The sounds of Good Morning America blaring from a 21-inch TV will greet me. I will successfully deny a morning whiskey shot. I will attempt to deny, then be forced to accept, a Red Eye – half tomato juice, half beer. I will suck it down dutifully, wincing with every salty sip. Elk, biscuit, Red Eye…Elk, biscuit, Red Eye…

A pre-Eurofinal ritual? Nope. I won’t even see the game. I’m on family “vacation,” visiting the in-laws in a small logging town in the mountains of Oregon. “Sweet Home,” they call it. “Football-less prison of cultural dystopia,” I call it.

Not all is lost, however – an uncle with TiVo is recording the match while I’m fishing with “step-dad” (and by “fishing” I mean drinking heavily while pretending to listen to theories on lure choice and water temperature). With luck, I’ll be watching kick-off about the time fish guts are being mixed into “Nana’s” rose garden with a rototiller. Soon after, I hope to learn the answer to some pressing questions:

• Is Cesc Fabregas a more than adequate replacement for David Villa? If yes, and he steers the Spanish ship into the winner’s circle, does that make him the second best player in the world? It sounds a bit audacious, but I invite you to recall his abbreviated performances in this tournament and come up with another choice.
• Or is Michael Ballack the second best player in the world? He does nothing to pull the strings of my heart, but he is in top form. A performance tomorrow could cement his status as an all-time German great.
• Is Lukas Podolski a true flanker, or an out of position striker? One more good performance changes his position forever, and massively increases his transfer value.
• Is Marcos Senna the most underrated player in the tournament? That one is already a yes, but it’s always nice seeing opinions validated.
• Can I make it through ten minutes tomorrow without being called “soccer fag,” a “soccer pussy,” or a “gay soccer pussy?” Probably not. And definitely not considering my impending decision to wear a v-neck t-shirt and straw fedora on the fishing trip.

Enjoy tomorrow, folks – it should be a treat. The football, that is.

Update: Looks like Ballack won’t go. Sorry, immortality.

Update, Update: Ballack did go…nowhere. Nice cut, though.