Having just finished with the tragedy and triumph that was Portugal V. Holland, your friendly neighborhood impish writer (the one who always tries to look on the bright side of soccer) has been rendered as speechless as a teenager in the presence of Jessica Alba, or Mother Theresa in the presence of Abu Gharaib, or Dennis Miller in the absence of his "Dictionary of Obscure References."
I always like to compliment what's good and upstanding, and "neat-o" (as my mother says) about soccer. After watching this last match, I'm having trouble figuring out precisely what is "neat-o" anymore.
It wasn't the record-tying 16 yellow cards.
It wasn't the hamfisted acting of the Portuguese side (the worst since Ashton Kutcher first stumbled in front of a camera).
It wasn't the offensive inaptitude of Dirk Kuyt (in a performance not even worthy of an MLS contract).
It wasn't the poor sportsmanship, or crude "challenges," or embarrassing time wasting tactics.
I can't think of anything beautiful that sprung from this dirt clod of a game. There's nothing left to do now except try and erase it from my mind and take a shower before Italy/Australia. Honestly, if anyone can think of something beautiful, enjoyable or worthwhile from this game, let me know...I'd like to hear what you think that might be. Heck, I'll even buy a huckleberry shake for whomever comes up with an appropriate answer.