June 17 – 2008

Italy hasn’t looked their best, and this video might offer a clue as to why: these guys are drowning in ass. If half naked chicks are charging across a training ground to get to these guys, just think how bad amazing the onslaught must be in hotel lobbies…or night clubs…or the Italian DMV. I’d say it’s “like shooting fish in a barrel,” but that doesn’t quite capture it. More like, “Fish that jump out of the barrel, self-fillet, and fry themselves up in a nice lemon-butter and caper sauce with fingerling potatoes.”

June 16 – 2007

Out of all the low moments in Czech history – including, but not limited to, the time Jaroslav Mitirovsky’s plow got stuck in a manure pit, or the day the National Laptop ran out of batteries – yesterday’s defeat must rank at the top. Watching the match with Lukey was brutal: I’m no Czechophile, but I hate to seem them crushed under the wheels of a technically gifted Turkish side just the same.

Worse, it came on the heels of what proved to be a rough couple of days for the Czech man. His bankroll now stands at a still profitable $119.03, while his national pride clocks in at just under 10 Koruna. Lukey’s picks are below the fold.

DEVASTATED!! After 75 minutes of pure ecstacy, sitting in the hallowed “Cock n’ Bull” in Santa Monica (with the editor in charge), my world came to a screeching halt. First goal – fine. Second goal – utter disappointment and shock. I would have, could have, never imagined watching the world’s best drop a standard cross – not only did he drop it but it just happened to fall to the feet of the Turkish douche. Wow – painful man, fucking painful. (more…)

In pulling off what was certainly one of the most stunning comebacks of all time, Turkey avoided defeat, avoided potential first time ever group round penalties, clinched their place in the quarterfinals, broke the hearts of Czechs around the world, and took the excitement level of this tournament into the stratosphere. Now every team left will think anything is possible. And it is! Today was international football at its finest – tense, dramatic, euphoric, cruel. All within the space of 90 minutes…

* Images pulled from this excellent slideshow.

As someone who has spent countless hours yelling at referees, from both the field and the couch, I am by no means an apologist for the men in black. That said, the amount of scrutiny and criticism referees have been facing recently is perhaps even more excessive than usual. Currently the Euro 2008 linesmen are being stretched on the rack by the fans and the media, with the likes of Tommy Smyth declaring the offside ruling on Luca Toni’s goal today to be a ‘terrible call’. ESPN then proceeded to show the Axis replay 9000 times in a row to drive the point home, while the commentators repeated their same remarks over and over each time, while Tommy continued to not be able to walk a yard even in the shoes of an AYSO linesman, while I resisted the urge to punch myself in the face repeatedly.

The fact is, that call was a very difficult one to make. The ball was played in from well outside the 18, the players in question were on the six, and the Romanian defender was sprinting away from goal, such that he was practically out to the penalty spot just a fraction of a second after the ball was sent in to Toni. Processing all the crisscrossing players, spread out over that much space and moving at game speed, then making the right call in an instant is hard. Why do you think they get it wrong so often? Given that we can see they were wrong 10 seconds after the call, when they show the instant replay, why not let the officials take a peek as well?

Even as I’m writing this I’m not a huge fan of the idea, as along with other potential issues it would interrupt the flow and pace of the game – ultimately, it just seems unnatural to have instant replay delays injected into football soccer matches. I guess the question is, do we want to get the right call every time, or does the discussion, conjecture, money loss/gain, whining, crying, arguing, fighting, drinking and so on that follows every bad call constitute an essential part of the game of football?

Or, perhaps simply listening to Rob Stone and Julie Foudy talk about any subject for more than 30 seconds is enough to drive one to the brink of Cassano-like insanity?

Don’t worry there’s more:

June 13 – 2008

Forgetting to set your DVR to record the Euro matches is like spending a lifetime with sight before suddenly going blind. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d rather be born blind, than go blind. Because, what would you be missing?

In other words, I spent the whole day looking forward to my evening soccer orgy, and now I’m watching Top Chef with my wife. I’m hoping the fat lesbian will serve Tom Colicchio a matzo-ball using a fast-pitch windup. Or maybe the guy with the shark-fin on his head will serve the hot hostess (arm-scar!) a Spanish-Fly infused ravioli. Come on, do something exciting.

Insofar as I awaited the promise of my recorded games only to have them disappear, I can totally identify with Ivica Vastic. The 38 year old scored the tying goal for Austria against Poland, a feat that was to earn him a lifetime supply of beer from a brewery in Vienna. And wouldn’t you know it? He’s not going to see a drop.

“We don’t need such type of motivation. We need three points against Poland, but we definitely need no beer belly,” said Alfred Ludwig, secretary general of the Austrian Football Association.

But his decision also seems to have economic reasons.

Ludwig said the association might lose the credibility it enjoyed with its sponsors if it accepted the offer. He was referring to the Stiegl brewery, which supports Austrian football and distributes the official Euro 2008 Carlsberg brand.

He hit the net, thinking, “Free beer, bitches, freeeeee beeeeeeeer!” Only to have the sweet juice ripped from his lips. No free beer, and now he has to pay for the worst beer in the world, Carlsberg. And maybe he’s not being subjected to Top Chef right now, but I guarantee he misses that free beer. More than that, he misses the promise of free beer.

Some links from folks responsible enough to watch the games, and beyond:

• Unprofessional Foul is liveblogging the matches, and doing it quite well. A sample: “And can he stop running after the ball and kicking it to his players for throw-ins? You know he tries to go out for drinks with the players and asks them questions after the game like, “What are we doing tonight guys?!?!” Sort of like Regina George’s mom in “Mean Girls.” Oh you guys, you keep me young!”
• Who Ate All The Pies finds that Paddy Power is offering a free Hummer (the kind that guzzles gas, not…you know) to the first Spanish goalscorer in tomorrow’s match with Sweden. The catch? They have to the Chiki-Chiki dance. I admit, the video is strangely captivating (”Uno…El Breakindance!”).
  
• “Oh, that’s gotta’ hurt.” Ya’ think?
• Though not Euro-related, Kickette’s ongoing coverage of the Wayne Rooney wedding is indispensable: “It’s basically a never-ending money-blazing extravaganza of nouveau riche chavtastic proportions. Alas, the weather was quite shite and it rained buckets. Damn the skies and their inability to be paid off.”

Enjoy the Group o’ Death matches.

June 12 – 2007

I like to poke fun at the Czech man, but the simple truth is this: the guys know how to make money on soccer…which he can then wire to Prague to perpetuate human trafficking schemes involving large breasted Czech women. Lukey is off to a roaring start, with a bankroll that has swelled to the tune of $140.68 – that’s an increase of 40.68%, math wizards.

And did I mention he’s making the pilgrimage out to LA this weekend? He is. Bet against my liver, please.

Ahhh yes, 6 more games, 4 more wins and so I believe my record stands at 8 WINS, 2 losses. Best thing about the last few days? Listening to Tommy Smith try to pronounce the Russian players names. I kept thinking, is this guy calling him a “jerkoff”, “u-off”, “shek-off”, “and-u-cough?” Dude, I’m convinced this guy is retarded (the glasses don’t help). (more…)

June 12 – 2008

The provenance of this video is unclear. These guys are definitely Italian, but one or more of them seems to have learned to yell at the TV from Englishmen. Is the video shot in Italy? England? New York? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure a forensic lamp specialist could figure it out – that thing is a masterpiece.

At any rate, you can pretty much follow the highlights of the Italy-Holland match through the reactions of the viewing party: the rule-bending goal, the Italian chances followed by devastating Dutch counterattacks, and the near Italian misses. And wait, is that Frank Lampard sandwiched on the couch?

June 11 – 2008

Like the rain that fell throughout the match, and like the goals that trickled into the Russian net, the praise for Spain is being poured on thicker than a Julie Foudy thigh. Whether it was the actual performance or the sight of a wet Fernando Torres that has pundits in such a state remains to be seen.

Spain are good. Or, specifically, the pairing of Torres and Villa is good. I do not envy the backs tasked with defending that duo. Villa needs constant attention – defending him requires staying close enough to deny him the ball or prevent him from turning. Torres, on the other hand, blooms when defenders get too close – as soon as he feels a defender, he can use his strength and explosion to simply toss him aside.

But let’s get one thing straight: Russia were made to be beaten by Spain. They are a team, under Guus Hiddink, whose confidence has grown by leaps and bounds. They came to play yesterday, attempting to out-possess the Spaniards and look good doing it. They created the number of chances needed to win, and hoped against hope they would be able to keep the Iberians at bay. But, considering Spain’s raw talent, it was a naive attempt. Sweden and Greece won’t waste time with such frivolous pursuits as good soccer, and so the Spaniards have plenty of chance remaining to reclaim their status as underachievers.

Some other thoughts, in no particular order:

• In honor of his hat-trick, you owe it to David Villa to watch his mostly unfunny spot in a very funny EA Sports ad-campaign. I admit, though: I lose it when he makes the clicking sounds to the Eagle.
• If I were to declare a rooting interest in the Euros, it would probably be Sweden. My heritage, you see, is mostly Swedish. But the truth is this: I’m too embarrassed that, if I root for Sweden, someone will speak Swedish to me. Or they’ll ask what town in Sweden my great-grandparents were from. Or they’ll ask when was the last time I visited Sweden. To all of these I can only reply, “I like the pancakes.” And so, until my true native country of White-Trashistan qualifies for the Euros, I’ll remain a closeted Swedish fan.
• Speaking of Sweden, that was quite a goal. Whether it was a good idea or not to unfreeze Henrik Larsson for this competition remains to be seen, but the one-two that led to the goal was an example of what he can still do. And how young do you have to be to play combinations with energetic teammates?
• I’ve heard it kicked around that Luis Aragones should be praised for showing the courage to leave Cesc out of the starting eleven; “He didn’t fit the game plan,” they are saying. I’m not so sure it wasn’t simply a case of Aragones keeping his powder dry against the team Spain would match up with best in the group. Or, Argones might just be a homophobe.
• I haven’t found a picture of Carlos Puyol playing in last night’s rain, but I could smell wet dog through my television.

June 10 – 2008

Yesterday, the Oranje woke the tournament up with their trademark passing and liberal interpretation of the rules. Yes, van Nistelrooy’s goal checks out, but the rule needs to be changed: how can a defensive player sitting off the field count towards an offside ruling, while an “uninvolved” attacking player in an offside position can not? That shit is Jim Crow for defenders.

The Dutch and their stupid baby-blue socks, though, provided a welcome respite from the average games plaguing the Euros thus far. Let’s hope their charisma carries me through tomorrow’s potentially beating of a schedule, and into Wednesday…because Wednesday we get…wait for it…Switzerland vs. Turkey! Why is that significant? Well besides the fact that it pits the two countries with the stupidest languages against eachother, the last time these two met…

Yessss! I’m a huge fan of brawl analysis, and this video (while certainly not in the same league as my all time favorite) definitely has some stuff to love. For instance:

• The Turkish coach telling his players (:03), “Look they’re getting away! To the tunnel!”
• A Turkish player sprints the entire width of the field to deliver a half-hearted, back-of-the-knee love tap on a Swiss physio (:19). I mean, you run all the way across the pitch to deliver a love-tap? Where’s the blood-lust? That, right there, is why the Ottoman Empire fell, folks.
• The Swiss goalkeeper calmly trying to talk a Turkish player down as he strolls into the mouth of the tunnel (:33). Judging from the keeper’s name, we know he can handle himself, as Swiss tradition says you are permitted to add one consonant to your surname for every man you kill.
• The wailing (throughout). I believe the pervasive political and religious turmoil in the Middle East has done as much damage to the quality of dance music as anything else. Tragic, really.

Best match of the tournament thus far. Ruud obvioiusly offside on the first goal, but some classic total football from the Dutch led to two more lovely goals. Van Bronckhorst was a machine, and that was even after beating Big Brown in a pre-match race! Brilliant. Italy looked unusually out of sorts, although they did manage to generate some good chances, which they proceeded to waste. That said, it was a clinic put on by the orange, and Italy will whine about the offside but hey, it was 3-0 at the end of class buddy. This was the first game I really got into – just a bit underwhelmed watching the previous matches for some reason? In any case, this was the good stuff, can’t wait for more…

In other news, albeit very old news, Materazzi is a giant rodent.