zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Huh?
Oh sorry, I'm just so exhausted from all the excitement of watching the final showdown between Spain and the Netherlands. Hours and hours of thrilling non-scoring interrupted only by the countless exhibitions of amateur theater. This occurs whenever a player comes within two feet of an opposing player. Said Marlon Brando type spins around and flails helplessly to the ground grabbing a knee while writhing and wailing like he'd just been hit by a bus. Hoping to induce a yellow card for his opponent but most often being completely ignored by everyone but the cameraman, he then jumps up and limps back into play. Miraculously, this evidence of his injury disappears within seconds.
Adding to the experience is the constant drone of 100,000 spectators blowing into a piece of plastic, creating a sound that never fails to cause me to look up for a swarm of bees. This odd behavior stems evidently from the efforts of each of the fans trying to keep the other fans awake. It may also explain why soccer games are always followed by the spectators beating the shit out of each other.
Why'd I watch it? Well to be frank I didn't. I was having breakfast with some friends at a Italian restaurant owned by a Mexican family in San Jose. Three giant flat screens were tuned in to TeleMundo and it was impossible to ignore. I must admit I enjoyed inciting near riots and a large round of boos each time I would cheer for the Dutch.
The game for me was worse than watching televised golf, but some people seemed to enjoy it, so I guess it's alright. Just don't call it football.
Let It Out (Let It All Hang Out) - The Hombres 1967
