Well the USA got some redemption Saturday night in Chicago. After that disastrous outing down in Costa Rica last week, we needed a win.
(First, I have to call out Mike for not blogging about the Costa Rica game. He said he was going to. But he let all of you Four Guys One Cuppers down, didn’t he? You all should pile on next time he posts. What an asshat.)
Anyway, I got pretty nervous when we gave up a goal in the fifth minute. My friends and I were just saying, “If we can keep this to 0-0 by the half, we’ll be in good shape.” Then bam, goal. Ouch, suck.
Clint Dempsey flubbed a backheel five minutes in, Honduras pounced on it and the United States fell behind early for the second time in four days.
“Here we go again,” U.S. captain Carlos Bocanegra thought.
But as the half drew to a close, a hand ball in the penalty zone by Mario Beata put Landon Donovan on the line for a penalty kick, which he drained. (Although he came scarily close to hitting the crossbar on his shot.)
Donovan played pretty well, all told. Sometimes he seems like he can’t be bothered to be there, or if one thing goes wrong in the early stages it sticks with him like a bad cold and affects his play for the rest of the game. But he was solid, and it was his corner kick that came in and eventually found Carlos Bocanegra’s head for the go-ahead goal in the 68th minute.
So for the first time in 24 years the Yanks came from behind to win a World Cup qualifier, and they did it in front of 55,647 at Soldier Field, itself a former World Cup venue. (Granted, the Hondurans were out in full force. The USA seriously needs some better fans.)
We’re now two points behind Costa Rica and a full five points ahead of El Salvador. Meanwhile, Mexico is in serious danger: They are 1-0-3 in qualifying and have notched only three points, making them fifth out of six teams in CONCACAF. Only the top three qualify, of course. I will laugh if the Mexicans don’t make it.
Beginning at 2 am Melbourne time Saturday, Australia plays Qatar (pronounced KA-tar, not cut-ter) to secure the first official spot in the 2010 World Cup. Why this game is being played so damned late in the night Aussie time is beyond me - and don't tell me it's because of the heat - it's a f'in desert.
The game is getting a fair bit of coverage here in Australia, but not nearly as much as it should, especially since the Aussie celebrated like a 16 year old boy at his first strip joint when they beat Uruguay in 2005 to make it to Germany 06.
I actually agree with Australia star striker Tim Cahill about the apathetic Australians:
"I don't listen to the criticism. I am sick of it, people who are criticising us in the situation we are in, purely because we are one point away from qualifying for the World Cup.
"People can't be grateful for the schedules we have got and how hard we work, domestically and internationally, to give everything to our country. People who criticise are very fickle and forget how hard it is to qualify for the World Cup. It's the media who want to build things up and for me it upsets me and makes me angry and the best thing is just to play football and hopefully do the business."
I'll be cheering from the Aussies to put this thing to bed so they can prepare for South Africa 2010 and not be jerked around. Plus, Daddy's really looking forward to seeing the Australians play Japan on June 17th at The G.
The U.S. national team plays a World Cup qualifier tonight in Costa Rica. The Ticos are only one point behind us in the CONCACAF standings, and we have had serious trouble in Saprissa Stadium, a.k.a. “La Cueva del Monstruo” (the monster’s cave):
The Ticos, as the hosts are known, play their home matches in a tall, rectangular, 23,000-seat venue known to generate structural tremors that rival a mild earthquake in this geologically unstable land. Without a running track to serve as a buffer, spectators are about 10 yards from the sidelines, separated from the players by wire fence that tilts inward at the top to prevent pitch invasions.
…
In a 1996 qualifier, U.S. players were pelted with batteries, coins, chemical substances and bags of urine — acts that belied the character of a country that does not have a standing military, boasts a Nobel Peace Prize winner (President Oscar Arias) and boasts numerous yoga and spiritual retreats amid its natural wonders.
Bags of urine! Now that’s special. (I also wonder what the cryptic “chemical substances” means.)
One game note: U.S. defender Frankie Hejduk is not expected to play due to groin injury, but he most likely will be back in action Saturday against Honduras in Chi-town.
If only to get that Chelski bullshit off the top of the page, I’ll continue our tour of World Cup countries. Scotty T has already touched on them briefly, but I’ll give it a go, too. And mostly because I want to make fun of Scott, albeit in a small and obvious way.
Gërmänÿ
I love Germany. Hell, I have to — my maternal grandmother grew up speaking German at home, and she still curses in the Muttersprache from time to time. Even my surname, Hoover, is of Germanic origins and used to have the all-important umlaut (Hüber).
I’ve only been to Germany once, somehow, and I didn’t even get to Berlin. But I did hit Munich — wait, München, I have to use that umlaut; it’s like cowbell — and loved it. I was familiar with it from my childhood, because my dad went there on business a lot. That probably explained why he had a tendency toward Löwenbräu (I got a fever!) at dinnertime, and I still have one of the ornate steins he brought back.
Ah, the Hauptbahnhof, the Marienplatz and the glockenspiel. That’s an in-joke for Mike. He and I were there on the same college study abroad program, oh, 11 years ago. We drank some serious beer at the Hofbräuhaus (You’re gonna want that umlaut!), and sang along with the oom-pah band.
Besides, he’s as German as they come, way more than I am. My other half is Scottish, but Mike’s all kraut. All blond hair, blue eyes and such an über-German surname. (Not to mention a redundant one — his name is Mike Mister Man.) Just for shits and giggles, here’s a picture of Mr. Mister Mann in front of some shop in Munich:
But I digress.
What’s not to love about Germany? Oh, right. The genocide and war-starting recidivism. But we’ve forgiven them by now, nein? They’re on our side, or at least they were until their poor chancellor had to endure a public molestation by our idiot former president. (Sorry about that, Angela!) But they do love them some Barry, so maybe we’re back in good graces.
Of course, there’s the beer, blah blah. But they also have some pretty hot women, albeit in a very technical, angular way. They have given us my favourite word of all time: schadenfreude. (This might be Drew’s, too.) They hate the space bar (how the Hölle are there only two umlauts in that word?). Their motoring prowess is well documented. And, yes, the “people’s car” sponsors my Stateside football club’s kit.
And their team is good, too. It’s funny that every stereotype you pick for Germans — technical, efficient, meticulous, blond — is personified in their national team. Just like the Italians are raging pussies on the football pitch, Germans are brutally efficient and technical in their play.
One downside is their really unstable nickname: Die Mannschaft. This supposedly translates into “The Team,” which is nice and pretentious and all, but come on. Mannschaft. Man Shaft? No wonder Thompson likes them. His self-proclaimed man-crush on Michael Ballack now makes perfect sense. (OK that was not a very good payoff for the FST bashing at the top of this post, I admit it.)
I remember watching their matches in the 2002 World Cup, particularly because they knocked out the USA in the quarterfinals. They eventually lost to Brazil, 2-0. Heartbreak in ’06, when they hosted the damn thing. They were 3-0 out of group play, top of Group A, and had a mixed bag in the knockout stage — blanking the Swedes and tying Argentina before losing to the Diving Divas in the semis. They got minor redemption in the third-place game, knocking out that bitch Christiano Ronaldo’s Portugal 3-1.
Although let it be noted that Scott’s dream boy/man shaft Michael Ballack had zero goals in ’06. (Maybe it’s his lack of an umlaut.)
Plus, they had be-umlauted coach Jürgen Klinsmann (Sure, baby! Just say it!) take them to great success. His departure after ’06 made me happy, because I thought the U.S. national team just might hire the guy to replace Bruce Arena. But no, the fucks in the league office decided against Klinsmann, who wanted to coach the Americans, because — well, because the head of U.S. Soccer is an asshat.
All of this to say that I won’t mind watching Germany in the World Cup, even though my (secondary) national team is France. And well know how that can turn out.
Oddly, this is in the Scottish league and not in Italy, but Rangers striker Kyle Lafferty takes diving to new levels of ridiculous in a match against Aberdeen:
That's piss poor. Charlie Mulgrew, the Aberdeen player, got the red card. Awful.
Lafferty has apologised, but still. What a twat. Maybe Marcello Lippi can give him a spot on the Azzurri.
I get a lot of grief from my Aussie friends for being an American, stealing away Aussie women, and living the high life in this beautiful country.
Apparently, I also steal World Cup tickets to watch their team…
World Cup's ticket sell-out May 29, 2009 AP
FIFA says tickets are sold out for the opening and final matches of next year's World Cup, as well as all games involving England, Brazil, Argentina, Australia, Ireland and The Netherlands.
In a statement yesterday, FIFA said the semi-finals and all Cape Town, Nelspruit and Pretoria matches were sold out as well.
Australia has not officially qualified but just one draw in its remaining three qualifiers will see it through.
I really had no idea how lucky we must have been to get these tickets. And, despite the bitching people might read here on “Four Guys, One Cup,” we really are appreciative that we scored these tickets and will root for Australia to go as far as possible.
But, it’s still pretty funny that four asshole Americans have these prized Australian World Cup tickets.
Welcome to Four Guys, One Cup. If you’re new, be sure to read the “About the Four Guys” post. That way, you can picture each of us as you shake your head and say, “Man, those guys are assholes.”
