The Olympics are on again, which means that NBC must remind everyone in this country that no one cares about anything that the Americans don't win. Though I am as swept-up as the next guy with the impressive swimming out there, the constant rah-rah becomes tiresome, overshadowed only by the singularly dumb "commentary" offered by the "sportscasters" who seem more interested in Philip Dalhausser's lack of hair than his playing ability. My good friend laloca seems to be upset that equestrian events are being given the short shrift in television coverage; I think that she should thank her lucky stars that she doesn't have to hear about how Gandalf really loves to eat carrots in the morning. I try to alleviate all the flag-waving by checking the medal tracker every day to discover heretofore unknown athletes from countries you wouldn't expect to get a medal. (For example, I see that Togo has won a bronze medal in kayaking! Why isn't there a story about that? I bet you it's big in Lomé right now...)
All this brings me back rwenty years to August 1988 when I was just starting my senior year of high school in Lima. Peru has never been one to make a huge presence in any international sport these days (in soccer, for example, I thank God for Bolivia for keeping Peru from the bottom of the pack of the South American World Cup standings), but that year the country sent a world powerhouse team for one sport: women's volleyball. Strange but true: Peru used to be a feared presence in women's volleyball.
To the delight of millions of Peruvians, the women made it all the way to the final game, where they played against the "Confederation of International States" -- which is to say, the Soviet Union, having just broken up and not figured out what to do in time for the Olympics. Given that the big event was happening in Seoul, the medal match got under way very late at night, probably around 2am or so. I remember being allowed to stay up late to watch the game, even though it was a school night, although I was so tired I couldn't stay awake.
When I woke up, I turned on the TV to see what the final score was -- and discovered that the game was still going on.
Indeed, after soundly winning the first two sets, Peru subsequently lost the following two sets, leading to a do-or-die fifth set, with both teams trading points. The game was still going strong when my family realized that the school bus was on its way -- and with my school all the way on the other side of town and us not having a car, I had to race down the stairs to get the bus on time. Someone, probably Vicente, had a portable radio to listen to the rest of the game; I remember Jenny complaining about a lack of equestrian events being shown in Peru. (Some things really never change.)
The bus ride offered one of the more surreal images I will ever see. Despite the fact that it was rush hour and the route to school traversed some of the most traffic-laden roads in Lima (and that says something), there were barely any cars at all. The bus zipped to school in no time flat -- and the only people we saw on the street were all crowded around electronics stores, which had graciously turned on television sets in their display windows so that dozens of Peruvians stood staring, immobile, at a single screen.
When we got to school, the game was still on. A teacher had a portable TV in the trunk of their car and various teachers crowded around; we students were stuck with radios. I had never seen the final points until tonight when I happened upon a sketchy YouTube clip of the final ten minutes of the game:
If you look at this video, you will note around the 7-minute mark the point where Peru had this in the bag: 15-14, championship point, Peru serving. I distinctly remember this moment being transmitted over the radio. The ball went into the air --
And the transmission stopped. Silence.
Everyone who was listening at school basically let out a loud cry of "WTF?!" in both English and Spanish. What happened? Satellite feed? Sendero Luminoso? Crappy Peruvian 1980s technology? Aaaaigh!
Less than two minutes later, the feed came back. Just in time for us to hear the announcer say that the Soviets had just gotten the last point. 17-15. Peru lost.
Peruvian women's volleyball never came back to that high point on the international stage: despite being recognized as a major player throughout the 1980s, you will note that Peru is not playing in the Olympics this year in that event. The loss at this game still meant that Peru won the silver medal, one of only four won by Peruvian athletes at any Olympics. This merited a major celebration when they got back home, which remains memorable.
That is, maybe, until 2020. Since, apparently, if Alan García gets his way, Peru won't just be a major player at the Olympics: Peru will be the Olympics. Hell, that Great Wall ain't got nothin' on Macchu Picchu, man. Can Francisco Lombardi match an opening ceremony to the level of Zhang Yimou? And if the athletes can take Beijing's smog, how will they do in Lima? (Actually, Lima's probably better than Beijing in that department. Maybe.) There are those who think the idea of a Peruvian Olympics isn't so bad. Then again, this comes from the government so full of itself that it actually, seriously tried for a bid for the 2016 Olympics... even though the deadline had passed nearly a year ago.
Still, check out the "promotional video!" I, for one, am convinced.
Showing posts with label sporting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sporting. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Everyone agrees that...
In terms of movies made in 2002, Pedro Almodóvar's Talk to Her is better than Tom Tykwer's Heaven.
Totrilla española is tastier than potato pancakes.
If I wanted to leave tomorrow and come back in a week, Orbitz indicates that it will cost me $2000 less to fly Iberia to Madrid than it would for me to fly Lufthansa to Berlin (or, actually, Madrid).
Hm. Movies. Food. Flights. Soccer.
Yep, Spain is better than Germany.
(yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!!! sorry, Hausfrau, but that was one heck of a game!)
Sunday, June 22, 2008
¡Gooooool!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Eureka!
(UPDATED to include picture of item in question...)
Our family tends to shop at the Salvation Army.
I should qualify that statement: we usually shop for Xan at the Salvation Army, where we can pick up a whole bag of shirts for under $10, of usually really nice stuff. One has to take the time to rifle through everything to find the right sizes, but that's half the fun. Angela often finds great things as well and the prices simply can't be beat. The SA store near Takoma Park also happens to be know for pretty good quality clothing items as well.
I never find anything.
I usually chalk this up to most men's fashion habits. Or at least mine. Basically, I don't get rid of anything unless the item has too many holes or stains to merit not wearing -- and even then I usually just put it in the pile of painting/gardening clothing that I also have. I can't even bear to get rid of the overwhelming number of t-shirts I have. Surely, I cannot get rid of my beloved NIN black t-shirt, even though the logo is mostly worn away. No way, man.
If most men are like this, this is why I can't find anything worth buying at the Salvation Army. I usually end up shopping as frugally as possible at outlet stores.
Yesterday, I went on half-price day. This was a new experience and the store was completely overrun with all sorts of folks in there grabbing everything left and right. For the next month of so, Xan and I are spending Wednesdays together, so he was there as well. I went on a whim to satisfy a particular fashion issue in conjunction with my class this summer (which I'll detail more on later, if the class figures it out). Once I had resolved that issue, I went looking in the boys' section for shirts for Xan. I found several that seemed promising. Alas, sometimes people also put things in places where they don't belong. For example, this shirt that was clearly not a child-size shirt. What is it doing in...
Hmm. That's a familiar crest.
And this fabric seems like the football jersey mater-
Oh my God.
I start looking at the shirt all over and it dawns on me that I had found an authentic football fan jersey from the Spanish national team. Older, naturally, but in otherwise perfect condition.
I have wanted an España shirt for the last three years, when I made my prediction that Spain would take the World Cup in 2006. I was horribly wrong -- and yet still I have remained a fan of Spanish soccer and, given that Peru once again seems like it will flounder like nobody's business and not make it into the big game, I'm still on board behind Spain. I have ben actively considering for almost two years to just hunker down and spend the roughly $70 it costs for a jersey, just because I'm a fan.
The price tag on this shirt: $3.99.
Oh, wait: it's half-price day. That means $2.
I showed this to Angela last night. She said, "Oh, man, someone's girlfriend is in biiiig trouble for getting rid of that shirt."
"Girlfriend?" I said incredulously. "It better be a wife that threw this shirt out. Because if it isn't, I guarantee they're not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore."
Our family tends to shop at the Salvation Army.
I should qualify that statement: we usually shop for Xan at the Salvation Army, where we can pick up a whole bag of shirts for under $10, of usually really nice stuff. One has to take the time to rifle through everything to find the right sizes, but that's half the fun. Angela often finds great things as well and the prices simply can't be beat. The SA store near Takoma Park also happens to be know for pretty good quality clothing items as well.
I never find anything.
I usually chalk this up to most men's fashion habits. Or at least mine. Basically, I don't get rid of anything unless the item has too many holes or stains to merit not wearing -- and even then I usually just put it in the pile of painting/gardening clothing that I also have. I can't even bear to get rid of the overwhelming number of t-shirts I have. Surely, I cannot get rid of my beloved NIN black t-shirt, even though the logo is mostly worn away. No way, man.
If most men are like this, this is why I can't find anything worth buying at the Salvation Army. I usually end up shopping as frugally as possible at outlet stores.
Yesterday, I went on half-price day. This was a new experience and the store was completely overrun with all sorts of folks in there grabbing everything left and right. For the next month of so, Xan and I are spending Wednesdays together, so he was there as well. I went on a whim to satisfy a particular fashion issue in conjunction with my class this summer (which I'll detail more on later, if the class figures it out). Once I had resolved that issue, I went looking in the boys' section for shirts for Xan. I found several that seemed promising. Alas, sometimes people also put things in places where they don't belong. For example, this shirt that was clearly not a child-size shirt. What is it doing in...
Hmm. That's a familiar crest.
And this fabric seems like the football jersey mater-
Oh my God.
I start looking at the shirt all over and it dawns on me that I had found an authentic football fan jersey from the Spanish national team. Older, naturally, but in otherwise perfect condition.
I have wanted an España shirt for the last three years, when I made my prediction that Spain would take the World Cup in 2006. I was horribly wrong -- and yet still I have remained a fan of Spanish soccer and, given that Peru once again seems like it will flounder like nobody's business and not make it into the big game, I'm still on board behind Spain. I have ben actively considering for almost two years to just hunker down and spend the roughly $70 it costs for a jersey, just because I'm a fan.The price tag on this shirt: $3.99.
Oh, wait: it's half-price day. That means $2.
I showed this to Angela last night. She said, "Oh, man, someone's girlfriend is in biiiig trouble for getting rid of that shirt."
"Girlfriend?" I said incredulously. "It better be a wife that threw this shirt out. Because if it isn't, I guarantee they're not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore."
Friday, March 14, 2008
My school spirit goes to 11
Seven years ago, when I first got to AU as a sabbatical replacement, the men's basketball team was on the verge of entering the hallowed March Madness dance. They had played wonderfully well, the clear favorite as they played the final game in the Patriot League against Holy Cross. They had not been beaten. Life was good. ESPN was coming to campus. There was an air of destiny.
I wanted them to lose so very badly.
Why the ire? For one thing, all the voice-mail messages. There were about three-per-day on my machine, popping up randomly before I could delete them. I've also never been a sport guy and, after Dartmouth, I really haven't developed any sense of school spirit around athletics. If I never went to a football game when I lived in Ann Arbor, you know that I'm not the athletics kinda guy. Seven years ago, I went to the pep rally (seemingly odd in this non-football school) with my teaching assistant, Stephen; both of us dressed in black and raised our pom-poms with a disaffected lower-case "rah" when they told us to cheer. I went home and was thrilled when the team lost, because that meant the hullabaloo was over.
Seven years later, the school is poised again. This time, I became aware of it when they started talking about in on NPR as the school to look out for. Uh-oh, I thought, here we go again. This time, it's against Colgate, but there is a rally planed this afternoon and tickets are available.
Here's the difference: I actually care this time. I want them to win. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I've had athletes in my classes on several occasions -- including the entire men's freestyle swim team for a whole year in two films classes. (I referred to them as a group as "da boyz.") Maybe I'm developing school spirit after all.
Or maybe it's that I can finally have a reason to have a public screening of This Is Spinal Tap. Since there is, miraculously, a connection:
UPDATE -- Oh my God: they did it!
I wanted them to lose so very badly.
Why the ire? For one thing, all the voice-mail messages. There were about three-per-day on my machine, popping up randomly before I could delete them. I've also never been a sport guy and, after Dartmouth, I really haven't developed any sense of school spirit around athletics. If I never went to a football game when I lived in Ann Arbor, you know that I'm not the athletics kinda guy. Seven years ago, I went to the pep rally (seemingly odd in this non-football school) with my teaching assistant, Stephen; both of us dressed in black and raised our pom-poms with a disaffected lower-case "rah" when they told us to cheer. I went home and was thrilled when the team lost, because that meant the hullabaloo was over.
Seven years later, the school is poised again. This time, I became aware of it when they started talking about in on NPR as the school to look out for. Uh-oh, I thought, here we go again. This time, it's against Colgate, but there is a rally planed this afternoon and tickets are available.
Here's the difference: I actually care this time. I want them to win. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I've had athletes in my classes on several occasions -- including the entire men's freestyle swim team for a whole year in two films classes. (I referred to them as a group as "da boyz.") Maybe I'm developing school spirit after all.
Or maybe it's that I can finally have a reason to have a public screening of This Is Spinal Tap. Since there is, miraculously, a connection:
UPDATE -- Oh my God: they did it!
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Pondering the pigskin
Oge (who I just noticed is now a Texan!) will not necessarily be happy with this, but he won't be surprised by this admission either: I'm not really a football fan.
This may in part be due to my upbringing. My dad was not really a football fan and I went to high school in Peru where fútbol is something else entirely. That changed slightly when I went to college when, in order to be a freshman in relatively good standing, one went to football games. I therefore became a fairly ardent fan of the Big Green, even if we are currently 2-7. I didn't really understand the game all that well even then. This changed when, of all things, I joined the marching band my senior year (I switched to cymbals after playing the videocamera for a season) and I wanted to know when -- and more importantly why -- we had to start playing. (I also learned for the aforementioned Oge, the 'shmen on my hallway who played. And who derived great pleasure from tackling me in the hallway when I went to brush my teeth. Shall I describe what it's like having an offensive tackle doing something called the "turkey trot" on your chest while the rest of my 'shmen are looking on? I digress...) My dear wife played with the DCMB for five years and still can't really tell you what is happening on the field, but I finally picked up a cursory understanding.
This was not enough to turn my into a football fan, however. I don't really follow the NFL, nor do I really follow college football. After all, I teach at a school which happily doesn't have a football team (I've talked to the athletic director and she used the word "happy"). This also comes after having gone to graduate school at a place where football (along with basketball and hockey) was somewhat sacred: I shamfacedly confess that I never attended a game while I was there.
All this is meant to preface the peculiar things I'm feeling today, when NPR, colleagues at work and even my neighbors are asking me how I feel about the Michigan-OSU Game-to-End-All-Games this afternoon. (No, I didn't know they were both undefeated, although somehow i knew that Rutgers was.) And to be honest, with Angela and Xan out this weekend on Cape Cod and me here trying to get some serious writing done, I will reluctantly have to refrain from watching The Game.
But today?
Today, I feel like a Wolverine. Go Blue.
(UPDATE: So I lied, slightly. I have to make an appetizer for a birthday dinner tonight and I just turned on the game, where I discover it's 7-7. More perplexingly, however, I heard for the first time the opening strains of "O Fortuna" (from Orff's Carmina Burana) done by a marching band as fight music. I'm impressed -- and slightly disturbed. [Actually, I am more disturbed by this. Apparently, this is a common marching band thing?] But hey, Xan can actually sing that. I'm not kidding: he heard it on the radio the other day and has been happily screaming what sounds like "O Fortuna" all the time, appropriately fortissimo.)
This may in part be due to my upbringing. My dad was not really a football fan and I went to high school in Peru where fútbol is something else entirely. That changed slightly when I went to college when, in order to be a freshman in relatively good standing, one went to football games. I therefore became a fairly ardent fan of the Big Green, even if we are currently 2-7. I didn't really understand the game all that well even then. This changed when, of all things, I joined the marching band my senior year (I switched to cymbals after playing the videocamera for a season) and I wanted to know when -- and more importantly why -- we had to start playing. (I also learned for the aforementioned Oge, the 'shmen on my hallway who played. And who derived great pleasure from tackling me in the hallway when I went to brush my teeth. Shall I describe what it's like having an offensive tackle doing something called the "turkey trot" on your chest while the rest of my 'shmen are looking on? I digress...) My dear wife played with the DCMB for five years and still can't really tell you what is happening on the field, but I finally picked up a cursory understanding.
This was not enough to turn my into a football fan, however. I don't really follow the NFL, nor do I really follow college football. After all, I teach at a school which happily doesn't have a football team (I've talked to the athletic director and she used the word "happy"). This also comes after having gone to graduate school at a place where football (along with basketball and hockey) was somewhat sacred: I shamfacedly confess that I never attended a game while I was there.
All this is meant to preface the peculiar things I'm feeling today, when NPR, colleagues at work and even my neighbors are asking me how I feel about the Michigan-OSU Game-to-End-All-Games this afternoon. (No, I didn't know they were both undefeated, although somehow i knew that Rutgers was.) And to be honest, with Angela and Xan out this weekend on Cape Cod and me here trying to get some serious writing done, I will reluctantly have to refrain from watching The Game.
But today?
Today, I feel like a Wolverine. Go Blue.
(UPDATE: So I lied, slightly. I have to make an appetizer for a birthday dinner tonight and I just turned on the game, where I discover it's 7-7. More perplexingly, however, I heard for the first time the opening strains of "O Fortuna" (from Orff's Carmina Burana) done by a marching band as fight music. I'm impressed -- and slightly disturbed. [Actually, I am more disturbed by this. Apparently, this is a common marching band thing?] But hey, Xan can actually sing that. I'm not kidding: he heard it on the radio the other day and has been happily screaming what sounds like "O Fortuna" all the time, appropriately fortissimo.)
Monday, July 10, 2006
Ah, Zinedine, you foolish man...
Not that we were rooting for France or anything. I wasn't, at least -- I'm thrilled that Italy won, despite their cheap win over Australia in the 2nd round. I was sure he would win the Golden Ball (which he did). And on the way up to visit my sister-in-law in New York, Angela floated the idea that Zinedine would be a great name if we had a second boy. ("Oh yeah," I said, "then we would have Zin and Xan." "No," she replied, "we could call him 'Dean.' And I know how much you would love that, with your James Dean fetish and all." She has a very good point there...)
Anyway, I found him to be quite the gentleman footballer, even if (like me) he's ancient at 34.
And then he goes and does something really stupid, like this:
I mean, really, what was he thinking? Hmm, maybe no one will see me? Despite the fact that the ENTIRE WORLD was watching? I mean, come on.
Well, there ends my sports obsession for another four years. And we have all learned that I should not predict anything sport-related. Then again, maybe I can procure a Spanish footballing jersy on discount now? Hmm...
Anyway, I found him to be quite the gentleman footballer, even if (like me) he's ancient at 34.
And then he goes and does something really stupid, like this:
I mean, really, what was he thinking? Hmm, maybe no one will see me? Despite the fact that the ENTIRE WORLD was watching? I mean, come on.
Well, there ends my sports obsession for another four years. And we have all learned that I should not predict anything sport-related. Then again, maybe I can procure a Spanish footballing jersy on discount now? Hmm...
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
"Well, at least there's one thing you can do in the dark"
The title of the post comes from one of Angela's ex-boyfriends, who turned and said that to her when the lights went out on the train -- and then whipped out his laptop. The moral here: when presented with a blackout, go for the instant romance.
There may be an exception, however, when watching a World Cup soccer match with friends and the lights go out during a terrific thunderstorm when Germany and Italy are still 0-0 ten minutes into the first overtime period.
After the collective scream, we scrambled around the house to find our portable radio in order to pick up the sole radio station that we knew was carrying World Cup games. Done entirely in Spanish with narration provided by an over-ebulliant Argentine and featuring a very catchy theme song ("¡¡Fútbol, fútbol, fútbol de primera, la radio del Mundial!!"), I translated as best as I could for everyone on our front porch, given the spotty reception and the excited Argentine. When, in second overtime, he yelled "Goooooooooooooooool," we still weren't sure who had scored and had to wait what seemed like an eternity before he yelled "Italia" and we all started cheering ourselves, no doubt startling all our neighbors still without power. (I was trying to act angrily, of course, since my "curse" is back -- but of course, I was rooting for the Italians. Sorry, Stefan.)
We just got our power back around 10 or so, and then it went out again for a while only to have just come back. And guess who's typing on a laptop now?
There may be an exception, however, when watching a World Cup soccer match with friends and the lights go out during a terrific thunderstorm when Germany and Italy are still 0-0 ten minutes into the first overtime period.
After the collective scream, we scrambled around the house to find our portable radio in order to pick up the sole radio station that we knew was carrying World Cup games. Done entirely in Spanish with narration provided by an over-ebulliant Argentine and featuring a very catchy theme song ("¡¡Fútbol, fútbol, fútbol de primera, la radio del Mundial!!"), I translated as best as I could for everyone on our front porch, given the spotty reception and the excited Argentine. When, in second overtime, he yelled "Goooooooooooooooool," we still weren't sure who had scored and had to wait what seemed like an eternity before he yelled "Italia" and we all started cheering ourselves, no doubt startling all our neighbors still without power. (I was trying to act angrily, of course, since my "curse" is back -- but of course, I was rooting for the Italians. Sorry, Stefan.)
We just got our power back around 10 or so, and then it went out again for a while only to have just come back. And guess who's typing on a laptop now?
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Europa Europa
Well, as becks492 sadly points out, despite my whimpers of Allez Bleu!, France indeed did not lose today. In fact, they played darned well and Brazil justly deserved to lose. (This, unlike the Final in '98, which I'm still not over.) On the plus side, I said enough wonderful things about David Beckham under my breath to actually have him taken out with something of an injury and the darling upstart Portuguese made it through. At this point, I have no idea who I should really be rooting for at all. I'm just sad that all the New World teams are out and that, dagnabbit, the Europeans who sniffed "It wouldn't be right if the Cup is played and Europe and not won be a European" will have their wish come true. (I'm still bitter that Argentina, clearly the best team playing up until their goalie injury, is not still in this hunt. Boo.)
Friday, June 30, 2006
Since I appear to be cursed...
I have just walked out of the ridiculous defeat of Argentina by Germany in penalty kicks. I'm so depressed. (And here's the real kicker: now I have to grade final papers. "What's the likelihood I'm going to be lenient?" he says to himself as he reaches for his reddest of pens...)
Given my current curse, I hearby declare my undying love and affection for Italy, France and England. Live long and prosper... and therefore suffer under my World Cup curse, which has now taken the last six teams that I was rooting for.
Given my current curse, I hearby declare my undying love and affection for Italy, France and England. Live long and prosper... and therefore suffer under my World Cup curse, which has now taken the last six teams that I was rooting for.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
World Cup predictions, Take 2
It would seem that I stopped blogging about the World Cup right around the time that, oh, the United States suffered an embarrassing and crushing defeat at the hands of (granted, the #2 ranked team in the world) the Czech Republic. I am still hoping, of course, that we somehow manage to rally against the Italians to make it out of the first round. But the loss, quite frankly, was deserved. And, given the luck of the draw, the best the
In any case, having now watched all the first-round games (or at least most of them), my brackets have changed a little. I now think that the “surprise” teams won’t come from
Here are my predictions – with potential scores!:
In the Round of 16:
SWITZERLAND d.
Quarterfinals:
NETHERLANDS d.
Semifinals:
Final Match:
I must express my utter disappointment at the now-established fact that
Meanwhile, Señor Pájaro wanted to know whether Naked Boy Day and watching the World Cup were complementary activities. Xan would reply firmly in the affirmative. I mean, shouldn’t everyone watch the World Cup in the buff?
Saturday, June 10, 2006
You don't want me as a fan
Let's take a look at how I thought the first few games of the World Cup would turn out in order to make my previously articulated brackets work. My predictions:
This is the reality:
So when I say I'm gunning for the Netherlands, Mexico and Portugal tomorrow -- well, perhaps you should expect some impressive work by Serbia and Montenegro, Iran and Angola respectively. Egad.
- Game 1: Costa Rica d. Germany
- Game 2: Poland d. Ecuador
- Game 3: Paraguay d. England
- Game 4: Sweden d. Trinidad & Tobago
- Game 5: Cote d'Ivoire d. Argentina
This is the reality:
- Game 1: Germany d. Costa Rica, 4-2 in what turned out to be a relatively exciting game since the Central Americans made the Germans work for it
- Game 2: Ecuador d. Poland, 2-0 in a really impressive rout
- Game 3: England d. Paraguay, 1-0 in a deserved trouncing -- England played very well and Paraguay has no more Chilavert
- Game 4: Sweden and Trinidad & Tobago draw (which is pretty much a major Trinidadian victory in everyone's eyes, including the Trinidadians)
- Game 5: Argentina d. Cote d'Ivoire, 2-1 in a game that started out boring but got more exciting as things went on
So when I say I'm gunning for the Netherlands, Mexico and Portugal tomorrow -- well, perhaps you should expect some impressive work by Serbia and Montenegro, Iran and Angola respectively. Egad.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh
As I type this, there is less than a half-hour to...
THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD CUP!
As I plan to watch nearly all of this on Univision, I'm watching a hysterical set of commercials catered specifically to the event as well. I'm particularly impressed that the anthem of the event happens to be in at least five languages that I could determine.
And my son? He is napping right now.
In a half hour, let me tell you, he won't be. Naps will wait. Food shopping will wait. Academic work will wait.
Germany vs. Costa Rica. If you're reading out there, Stefan -- I fear that once again I'm rooting against you. (As for the second match, Poland vs. Ecuador? Well, given that my son is at least part Polish, I'm going to have to go against the Latins this time...)
So excited.
THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD CUP!
As I plan to watch nearly all of this on Univision, I'm watching a hysterical set of commercials catered specifically to the event as well. I'm particularly impressed that the anthem of the event happens to be in at least five languages that I could determine.
And my son? He is napping right now.
In a half hour, let me tell you, he won't be. Naps will wait. Food shopping will wait. Academic work will wait.
Germany vs. Costa Rica. If you're reading out there, Stefan -- I fear that once again I'm rooting against you. (As for the second match, Poland vs. Ecuador? Well, given that my son is at least part Polish, I'm going to have to go against the Latins this time...)
So excited.
Friday, May 26, 2006
¡Gooooooooooooooool!
Our daycare provider, who is about to head off to Italy to visit her sister, apparently has encouraged my son's minor addiction fascination with balls by teaching him the above word.
Granted, we were already planning to watch the World Cup on Univision this year anyway, but now I'm wondering if she secretly has brainwashed my child into like the Ecuadorian team. (I'm still pulling for Spain to take it all.)
Anyway, since Xan appears to be happily indoctrinated into World Cup fever -- just like his dad -- you may note a new countdown indicating JUST HOW CLOSE THIS EVENT IS!!!! (le pant... le heave...)
Granted, we were already planning to watch the World Cup on Univision this year anyway, but now I'm wondering if she secretly has brainwashed my child into like the Ecuadorian team. (I'm still pulling for Spain to take it all.)
Anyway, since Xan appears to be happily indoctrinated into World Cup fever -- just like his dad -- you may note a new countdown indicating JUST HOW CLOSE THIS EVENT IS!!!! (le pant... le heave...)
Saturday, December 10, 2005
European Cultural Heritage Smackdown 2006
I know I've probably spelled that incorrectly (sorry, Becca!) but I discovered to my glee last night that the Final Draw was made for World Cup 2006 in Germany.
Soccer, people. Jeez.
Yes, believe it or not, Jeff turns into a sports fan once every four years and will actually wake up in the middle of the night to catch some games. (I'm not quite as fanatic as my colleague Matt, who may use all of his stored-up vacation time to actually go to Germany, but I still get all excited.) In my world, this compares to the morning that the Oscar nominations are announced -- which, come to think of it, are also fast-approaching! *pant pant pant*
It does appear that there will be some fantastic soccer being played next year. Though this doesn't sound all that exciting, there appear to be two "groups of death," where there are at least three strong teams in a group where only two will survive. One is Group E, featuring (with world standings in parentheses): the Czech Republic (2), the United States (8), Italy (12) and Ghana (50). The big one, however, seems unexpected: the Netherlands (3), Argentina (4), Cote d'Ivoire (41) and Serbia/Montenegro (47). Considered the weaker no-brainers: Group A - Germany (16), Costa Rica (21), Poland (23), Ecuador (37); Group G - France (5), Korea (29), Switzerland (36), Togo (56); and Group H - Spain (6), Tunisia (28), Saudi Arabia (32), Ukraine (40).
Who am I rooting for? Peru, of course! VIVA PER- oh wait, surprise surprise, Peru didn't make it. In fact, thank goodness for Bolivia, otherwise Peru would have come in last place for South America. I could root for Poland for Angela's sake, but they're going to get sacked early by Germany. Then I usually go for the Latin Americans and/or the US... but I also believe that a couple random strong upsets from Cote d'Ivoire and newcomer Portugal will also knock out all the Latins save Costa Rica and Brazil. (The draw was unfortuante for the Latin Americans, alas.)
I'm much more reliable for Oscar predictions. So here are wildly misinformed (but fun!) predictions for FIFA World Cup 2006 -- winners of each match in capitals:
Round of 16:
GERMANY d. Paraguay
NETHERLANDS d. Portugal
CZECH REEP d. Croatia
FRANCE d. Tunisia
ENGLAND d. Costa Rica
COTE D'IVOIRE d. Iran
BRAZIL d. USA
SPAIN d. Switzerland
Semi-Finals:
NETHERLANDS d. Germany
CZECH REPUBLIC d. France
ENGLAND d. Cote d'Ivoire
SPAIN d. Brazil
Final: SPAIN d Netherlands*
Here's the fun part: that final game is more than possible, should #6 Spain upset #1 Brazil and #3 Netherlands tackle #2 Czech Republic. Such a meeting, however, would provide a certain ethnic conflict in me since, as it turns out, my mother's side of the family largely descends from Spain (with some Italian, English and Quechua thrown in for good measure) and my father's side is almost exclusively Dutch (with, ironically, a tinge of Spanish). Given that I have Spain coming from both sides, I'll be pulling for España all the way. ¡VIVA ESPAÑA!
OK, back to my regular life now. Except I wonder if there are World Cup onesies...
Soccer, people. Jeez.
Yes, believe it or not, Jeff turns into a sports fan once every four years and will actually wake up in the middle of the night to catch some games. (I'm not quite as fanatic as my colleague Matt, who may use all of his stored-up vacation time to actually go to Germany, but I still get all excited.) In my world, this compares to the morning that the Oscar nominations are announced -- which, come to think of it, are also fast-approaching! *pant pant pant*
It does appear that there will be some fantastic soccer being played next year. Though this doesn't sound all that exciting, there appear to be two "groups of death," where there are at least three strong teams in a group where only two will survive. One is Group E, featuring (with world standings in parentheses): the Czech Republic (2), the United States (8), Italy (12) and Ghana (50). The big one, however, seems unexpected: the Netherlands (3), Argentina (4), Cote d'Ivoire (41) and Serbia/Montenegro (47). Considered the weaker no-brainers: Group A - Germany (16), Costa Rica (21), Poland (23), Ecuador (37); Group G - France (5), Korea (29), Switzerland (36), Togo (56); and Group H - Spain (6), Tunisia (28), Saudi Arabia (32), Ukraine (40).
Who am I rooting for? Peru, of course! VIVA PER- oh wait, surprise surprise, Peru didn't make it. In fact, thank goodness for Bolivia, otherwise Peru would have come in last place for South America. I could root for Poland for Angela's sake, but they're going to get sacked early by Germany. Then I usually go for the Latin Americans and/or the US... but I also believe that a couple random strong upsets from Cote d'Ivoire and newcomer Portugal will also knock out all the Latins save Costa Rica and Brazil. (The draw was unfortuante for the Latin Americans, alas.)
I'm much more reliable for Oscar predictions. So here are wildly misinformed (but fun!) predictions for FIFA World Cup 2006 -- winners of each match in capitals:
Round of 16:
GERMANY d. Paraguay
NETHERLANDS d. Portugal
CZECH REEP d. Croatia
FRANCE d. Tunisia
ENGLAND d. Costa Rica
COTE D'IVOIRE d. Iran
BRAZIL d. USA
SPAIN d. Switzerland
Semi-Finals:
NETHERLANDS d. Germany
CZECH REPUBLIC d. France
ENGLAND d. Cote d'Ivoire
SPAIN d. Brazil
Final: SPAIN d Netherlands*
Here's the fun part: that final game is more than possible, should #6 Spain upset #1 Brazil and #3 Netherlands tackle #2 Czech Republic. Such a meeting, however, would provide a certain ethnic conflict in me since, as it turns out, my mother's side of the family largely descends from Spain (with some Italian, English and Quechua thrown in for good measure) and my father's side is almost exclusively Dutch (with, ironically, a tinge of Spanish). Given that I have Spain coming from both sides, I'll be pulling for España all the way. ¡VIVA ESPAÑA!
OK, back to my regular life now. Except I wonder if there are World Cup onesies...
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