The Beautiful Game
I couldn’t let the opportunity pass without commentin’ on this extravaganza they call the beautiful game. Beautiful game indeed! It’s just amazin’ what advertisin’ can do. You can start with how Brazil was selected to host the games for starters. There was only two countries competin’ for the rights to host the games in the first place, them bein’ Columbia an’ Brazil. Suddenly Columbia drops out an’ it’s all for Brazil. Look at that! Go figure. There’s enough drug money in Columbia to buy the world cup outta petty cash, so it leaves one scratchin’ one’s head. Well that’s for starters anyways.
Then there’s the games thereselves. Mind you, the skills these players have is somethin’ to watch. They’re like a bunch o’ gazelles prancin’ around out there with some kinda magnets on their shoes for the ball to stick to. Holy crackers! I never seen anythin’ like it. But as you get a closer look, you begin to see what’s really goin on. This ain’t no sissy game, an’ that’s a fact. I’ll bet if you suited them up in hockey gear an’ let them loose on the ice, even Don Cherry would be speechless (for once). Or the converse, if you let the NHL loose on the soccer pitch for one game, there’s be no more NHL an’ Obamacare would have a field day.
What I mean is the fierce competition between opposin’ players. They’re dead serious about the game an’ they’ll do what it takes to win. Of course I’m talkin’ about the Uruguayan who tried to have the Italian player for lunch. All the Italians got outta that was a free kick. Then of course there was the Dutchman who yanked on the Mexican’s jersey just as he was going to kick the ball. Reminds me of my late brother in law who played semi pro in Austria after the war. His favorite trick was to grab onto the shorts of the man he was covering, and slowly pull on them until they were around his knees. Neat trick. But that poor Mexican, givin’ all he had to boot the ball changed his momentum and went ass over teakettle down onto the pitch. The Dutchman never even got a yellow card.
The worst of it, leastwise in my mind was the penalty shots. I mean them goalies are like springs. They boink around like jacks in a box in them nets. You couldn’t get sand past ‘em if you tried. An’ yet, on the very last penalty shot o’ the game, the Brazilian got past the Chilean goalie to win the match. Well I ain’t sayin’ the fix was in, but then I ain’t sayin’ it wasn’t neither. All I’m sayin’ is it’s a little too much of a nail biter to be dismissed as a bit of a nail biter. But we’ll never know, will we? At least that’s how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.