Portugal 2 Mexico 1; Angola 1 Iran 1; Argentina 0 Holland 0; Ivory Coast 3 Serbia-Montenegro 2

Party People,

Two stuffs.

One is that people are wondering where my blog is. It’s here, down there:
http://ryuscupramble.blogspot.com
Do pass it onto your hot female colleague who recently split up with her girlfriend.

Second, Michael Owen has gone back to Tyneside. His World Cup is over and the sensuous Swede is left with 3 strikers, of which one is younger than the youngest girl that I had sex with, the other looks like a potato on wings and not really match fit and the other is tall enough to be taken down by Godzilla. We need a miracle here, England.

Would like to take this place and time to say congratulation to the Heat fans out there. Didn’t think they would do it, but hey, I always root for the white boy. I am proud to say (not really at all) that I did not see a single NBA game this season. Not even one. It’s sad as this is my de facto number DOS (not a computer lingo) sports in my sleepy yet fulfilling life. There has been mumbles and jumbles that this “World Cup” business is taking over some of the floor space in the MTBA and what not, but please be rest assured. This only comes once every 4 years. Oh, but then I might do the same thing for the Euros... :)

On that note, what is with America? I know your country sucks at football, but are the majority of the yankee doodle dandies not interested in it at all? How come Phil Mickelson’s collapse (as with Monty’s) take front page over Ukraine’s decapitation of the towel heads and the conquistadores narrow escape from the Tunisian...al Qaeda attack (that doesn’t really work, but hey, I did try a bit)? I just don’t get you guys and I have now basically given up my quest as to how and why American’s live their lives without the beautiful game.

Is it the 45 minutes? Is that too long? Must a sport have a 2 minute break ever 5 minutes so that the sponsors can pump senseless ads into your lovely children Peter and Mary-Jane’s fructose powered brains?

Is it the lack of stats? How about this, from now on we’ll make sure to calculate how many touches each player gets per 90 minutes with each part of your body. The total of all the touches will be divided by the different regions of your body and this result will give us a accurate measure of how efficient each player is using parts of his body during a match. We’ll call it WGF, yes, who gives a fuck.

Is it the lack of cheerleaders? Open them eyes, and look them around. In every world cup match, there is one camera man who’s life (and job) is dedicated to finding the hottest and the most sizzling girlies in the stands. And trust me, most of them look million times attainable than the Laker Girls (aka Plastic Girls) or Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders (Dude, these girls only exist on calendars).

Is it because you think it’s a girl’s game? Or is it because the girls have won it and the boys haven’t? Or is it really maybe that you guys suck and can’t bear the fact that your dubyaness lurking inside you won’t settle for anything but the best?

Is it?

The American players deserve much more love from their own countrymen. They are playing their hearts out in the biggest sport event in the world. If you are an American and if you are not supporting your boys of summer for whatever ridiculous reason (too busy with work, too busy shagging, too busy watching NBA/NHL final, too busy playing X360, too busy telling your wife that you got more pressing matters than watching pansies playing a girl’s game) ,you should be ashamed. Really really ashamed.

They are fighting for America to be recognized as a proper football nation and you should be there to support them. I mean, if you’re supporting the troops, what’s the difference if they’re fighting with guns or feet?

Group D
Angola 1
Iran 1

Angola had to win by two clear goals to have any chance of advancing to the sweet 16. Since they didn’t, I’m not really bothered about them. Off you go, Angolans. Have a nice trip to your war torn home land (I’m feeling the “insensitive” card being pulled out of the PC people out there) and as for you, Iran, I am sure Khatani will congratulate you by putting each of you into his nuclear war heads. Anyhow, you lot enjoy the rest of your summer.

Group D
Portugal 2
Mexico 1

Since Portugese were dancing in the streets of Algarve for making it to the sweet 16, it was guacamoles job to make sure they stay ahead of those feisty crazy nutty Angolans. Big Fil (by the way, I have been making a mistake in calling him “Phil” but it’s actually “Fil”) decided to pamper his starters by sitting down all the players who had been pasted with yellow cards during this Asian happy tournament thus far. C Ronaldo, Deco, Pauleta, Costinha, and Valente were checking out the sweet stuff in the stands in their civilian outfits as the “B” team took to the field.

For the Lucha Libres, they had much more to lose in this game than Spain’s neighbour. To be sure, the losers of Alamo had to draw, which would take them to 5 points. At that point, no matter what the crazy cats of Angola did, they would qualify. If they were to lose, well, they had to make sure that they didn’t lose by a lot, as the Angolans can move out of this cozy group and move into a very nice house with 16 bed rooms.

So more at stake for one, not so much for the other. To my humble yet naughty eyes, Portugal looked much smoother without the Lermin’s 2nd coming, the slimmer Ronaldo. The width of the pitch was used to its max by Figo and Simao, Tiago and the semi-come back kid in Maniche bossed the midfield. They were so smooth and silky that it reminded me of Stanley fake silk boxers. They were nice and so were the Portuguese attack in the first 45 minutes. Adding kerosene to a burning Aztec pyramid, crazy la Volpe’s (I shouldn’t say this because he looks like he can kill a bull by sniffing at it) decision to play Marquez in front of the back 3 as a midfielder shook the defence stirred the collective Mexican confidence.

1st goal came with ultimate haste around the 6 minute mark. Simao decides that he need some highlight reels and skips past couple of dumb founded sombreros down the left. He finds himself surrounded by the 3 amigos, but then notices that a semi-failed Chelsea experiment is charging down the middle a la the Bus. Simao slips a exquisite one to his colleague and he blasts it top shelf beating the badly en fuego Mexican goalie.

2nd goal came when the slick haired porn star (start the typical 80’s porn music, now!) decided that he can be Diego in his own box. This obviously is hand ball and it is obviously converted into another goal by the deserving Simao.

At this juncture everything seems to be not going for Mexico. Losing by two goals and no hope in hell for shortening the ever widening gap.

3rd goal came from the bad boy of Mexican football. Perhaps slightly confused and “Ah, that’s so nice” by the expressive manly love by Cantera and Ricardo after a big save few minutes earlier, the Big Fil’s little defence wasn’t awake when Fonseca glanced a corner kick from Pardo with his cabeza to pull within a goal.

After deciding that the dude who plays defence for Barca should probably be playing defence for the national team, the people’s team of Mexico started to play less caliente from the 2nd half. This seemed to work as the midfielders, unshackled by the unnecessary defensive duty from the 2nd half, found the much needed ignition to fire up the green engine.

But when it’s not your day, it’s really not your day. With a legitimate Miguel handball in the Portuguese hot box, it was penalty time for the muchachos. So kicked Bravo, so he Baggioed it. Great opportunity squandered by the worst penalty shot of the entire tournament. If they had lost the spot for the sweet 16 because of his inadequate and highly unsexy spot kick, you know he would have been a victim of a Colombian.

Mexico was later reduced to diez men, but kept on pushing the ball for an equaliser. To no avail and with Angola being equalized by towel heads, it was the men of cheap labour and NAFTA to join hands and sing kumbayah with destiny.

Is Portugal good? I’m not convinced. Its basically the same team that went onto the Euro 2004 final, but the lack of an out-and-out striker(s), their only source of goals is from their pearl, emerald, and diamond. If they fail to shine and the defence that’s slightly more suspect than the top teams, they will be going home to Jose’s homeland earlier than people would want them to.

And the geen people eater? It will all depend on whether they can keep their concentration for full 90 minutes and not siestaing in the first 20 and the last 20. Also the return of Spaghetti, wouldn’t hurt. I expect them to leave earlier than Portugal.

Why? Because these two teams will either take on the people of “van” or the people of “o”.

The group finished like so:

1. Portugal 3 4 9
2. Mexico 3 1 4
3. Angola 3 -1 2
4. Iran 3 -4 1

And brackets like that:

Germany V Sweden

Winner C V Mexico

England V Ecuador

Portugal V Runner up C

Winner E V Runner up F

Winner G V Runner up H

Winner F V Runner up E

Winner H V Runner up G

Group C
Ivory Coast 3
Serbia-Montenegro 2

An Exciting match full of sending off, retaking of penalties, and national pride. Since they are going home, I just want to dismiss them, but there was one incident that etched into my sweet brain of mine. On the 86th minute mark, Ivory Coast wins a penalty. Kalou, with rain pouring over and under him, with an expression of tension and pain written all over his face, walks up to the penalty spot. At the other side of the pitch, Ivory Coast goalie Barry is on his knees facing the left post and praying to someone and no one. He cannot bear to watch his team mate take the kick which will, for the first time in their country’s history, earn them a “W” in the World Cup. Kalou looks up at the goalie one last time and starts his run towards a dream that may never be. The moment after the ball is struck and the moment after the cheer erupts for the orange elephants. At the other end of the pitch, with his fist pumping under the grey drizzly sky and the sound of honour and glory spilling out of his mouth, Barry is in a world of bliss. His joy is drowned by an even more ferocious cheer coming out of the fans and all this is what the world cup is all about.

Group C
Argentina 0
Holland 0

Eva Peron (aka Evita) and Rembrandt are hiccupping in their graves. Since both of these teams have taken out all their crown jewels, the crowns that were left were spectacular yet lacking in the sparkles. A dull game to say the least and there really isn’t any conclusion that can be drawn from this. With both teams already qualified for the sweet 16, there really wasn’t anything to fight for. So the game went and the game ended. Happy? I even went out of my way to watch this match at an Argentinian restaurant/bar. Whatever.

What’s with Argentina? They are good, but they showed today that against a quality team, they will have difficult time moving the ball. Spaces that were bountiful in their first 2 matches have been wiped clean by Marco and his minions. Let’s see if they can turn the heat up against the 52nd state of America.

And the dutch? You have to give it up for Marco and his tactics. By going man-man (not one of them moves, Albert) on the Argies, they reduced them to making them make the plays rather than having the plays come to them. They forced countless turnovers and the defence looked solid. Same here. I need to see them in full strength, peppered with urgency. Bye bye Portugal?

The group finished like this:

1. Argentina 3 7 7
2. Holland 3 2 7
3. Ivory Coast 3 -1 3
4. Serbia-Montenegro 3 -8 0

And brackets now look like this:

Germany V Sweden

Argentina V Mexico

England V Ecuador

Portugal V Holland

Winner E V Runner up F

Winner G V Runner up H

Winner F V Runner up E

Winner H V Runner up G

Ryu’s “I got dust in my eyes” goal of the day. Had to be Kalou’s spot kick to give Ivory Coast some pride to take home as souvenir as well as the reaction to the goal itself. Look out for them in their home World Cup.

Tomorrow we get sexy with Kristen’s boys and the Kafka’s shadows, at the same time the Dubyas will fight to their death with the last of the African hopefuls. The evening will bring 7/8th of myself to dance the forbidden dance with the samba boys, meanwhile socceroos will make history with Milosevic’s sons.

Watch it.