You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
USA v Portugal.
We Lost this soccer match with 3o seconds to go.
Well actually we didn’t lose, we tied, but this tie, was so horrific, so late, so unexpected, it feels like a loss.
Final Result: USA -2 Portugal -2.
It resonates with sadness, but should it?
Had you told me going into the World Cup; the USA would have four points after two games, tied for the group lead with Germany, I would have said, Muy Bueno.
The problem is I’ve raised my expectation level. I was hoping the USA had as well.
All we need to do is tie Germany to advance to the next round, but it just doesn’t feel good to me.
A tie with Germany feels far away now. It feels foreboding, like flossing your teeth with a bottle top.
Getting a tie against Germany, arguably the best team in the world, well it is unnerving.
It seems dangerous, like that roller coaster ride in the fun house darkness when you can’t see the tracks, or the hills or the monsters that pops up screaming till you lurch suddenly.
2-2.
We had it won.
With 30 seconds to go, we had it won.
All we had to do was hold the ball, kick it up the field, dribble out of trouble, anything.
It’s soccer for cripes sakes. Someone on the USA squad should have pretended to have contracted Malaria. That would have taken at least 30 seconds.
Instead our boys lost it when the best soccer playing underwear model on the planet laid a perfect cross into the box where a streaking Varella got his head on the ball and blasted it past the keeper.
Yikes.
The Portuguese celebrated while the Yanks looked stunned.
Fans in the stands, their faces stained red, white and blue, were crying.
The game ended on a limp whistle that needed Viagra to be heard.
You hear that wheezing sound?
That’s USA opportunity possibly flitting into the atmosphere, getting lost somewhere between what could have been and what should have been.
It’s still hard to swallow. USA was in control with a 2-1 lead in the 94th minute.
If these soccer clubs were 1980’s TV shows, the USA is Sanford and Son while Portugal is Dallas.
The USA is a scrap heap of over achievers grabbing their chests and stumbling around the pitch yelling, “I’m coming to meet ya Weezie.”
Portugal is a fiery hot Hispanic soap opera complete with a dreamy hot super model who scores goals.
When it started, it didn’t feel like it would even be this close.
Portugal scored before the howler monkeys had taken to the trees in the Brazilian rain forest.
Portugal scored before many fans had taken their seats.
Satellite shots from Chicago and Kansas City show deflation. You can see the enthusiasm come out of the American Sail. You can hear the collective groan around the planet.
UH OH
Millions of fans sporting red, white and blue feel the angst.
Team USA doesn’t help matters by playing rough, looking strident. Our balls don’t so much roll across the pitch as they bounce. Every pass seems forced, sent to the wrong guy covered by two of their guys.
We look lost, like our play needs a Garmin.
Our passes are as suspect as a Mafia boss at a grand jury proceeding.
When Portugal kicks the ball, it floats on butter, rolling like velvet to the toe of the player it is intended for.
When the USA passes the ball, it looks like it is being kicked over a sea saw.
But then team USA wakes up and starts shooting and puts Portugal on the defensive.
When we finally score, there is a feeling of “hey, what’s this?”
Then when Dempsey uses his belly button to deflect the ball past the keeper,in the 84 minute the impossible seems plausible.
Somewhere in the rain forest the howler monkeys are sporting red, white and blue.
The game ends, but soccer always has more time.
5 minutes in this case. It’s nerve-wracking.
Can the The USA will move on?
With the clock winding down, American Futbol seems to have finally arrived.
Then in the 94th minute, the unthinkable!
A tie, the deflation the disbelief.
And now the Germans, arguably the best team in the world.
Can we do it?
If we play like underwear models and not junk yard salesmen, we have a chance.
For now we have to live with a heartbreaking loss that will be called a tie.
In 20 seconds we went from making love to a super model to kissing our sister in the back of your dad’s car.
Yuk.
Soccer is a beautiful game. All we need is a tie to move on to a place American Soccer has never been.
Sure would have been nice to have those 30 seconds back.
Life’s Crazy™