I sort of decided on what to do about the World Cup Pool. As I alluded in a previous post, I was rather unexpectedly absent from the internets for two whole weeks. This hurt the pool obviously because I was unable to update second round matchups. As such, I've decided to declare a winner based solely on group-play and response to the prop questions. The final standings, then, are: 

 I can blame no one but myself for my own sorry performance. I got none of the props right (Adriano for Golden Boot?!?), and I don't think I even put in a point guess for the final six matches or so. 

Since the pool was for, effectively, only half of the World Cup, only half a prize will be awarded. It's up to Natalia to figure out a way to claim her prize.

On the flip, if anyone cares, I'll expound more on the World Cup. 

After a fashion, this was the worst World Cup I've ever watched. Of the final four teams, the only one I could even stand was Germany, and I didn't want them to get a fourth star on home turf. France I loathe for dismissing Brazil (twice, now), Portugal for their generally whiny and dirty play, and Italy... Italy I think was maybe the most cynical ("realist," in Pete's terms) team I've ever seen play. If not for the closing 20 minutes of Portugal v. Holland that I caught at a small bar in the village of Creemore near Lake Huron, I'd say that no team could possibly have been dirtier than the Italians. But I'll get back to the Italians later.

Logistically, this World Cup was, for me at least, intensely difficult to watch, despite the generally good time zone difference. I was able to rig together a bootleg means of watching ESPN2 streams over the internet, so being at work was not a hindrance. Leaving for the World Lithuanian Youth Congress, however, was a major hindrance. Not only did watching matches suddenly become much more difficult (if not impossible), but keeping up with the Cup itself became an exercise in futility. All the ancillary reading I'd been doing online came to an abrupt halt as soon as I boarded a plane for Toronto.

Clint Dempsey scores. AFP.

But my team is, and has always been, Brazil. I don't really know what to say about their performance in this Cup. They clearly snoozed through the first round—one of the Canadian announcers referred to the goal flurry against Japan as retribution for daring to pinch the lion on the tail (Japan's opening score). And they definitely kicked the offense up a notch against Ghana (a match I snuck out of Kongresas to watch at a small Italian deli on the beach). But Ghana was outclassed rather obviously, and once they were a man down, it seemed like Brazil decided to try to dish out goals to all the players—why else was Lucio crashing the net like he was in the closing minutes?

Brazil, 1986. TOFFS.

Once I started reading reactions, however, it became clear that the 4-5-1 was not the result of injury. Further, it wasn't properly a 4-5-1, but more of a 4-4-1-1, with Ronaldinho playing more as a striker. Well, I didn't see it. I saw Ronaldo alone up front, looking for the ball. I saw a confused team unable to click on offense. The Brazilian media was ruthless, but I think this one headline sums up everything I thought of the match: "Parreira mexeu na equipe, que, apática, assistiu a show de Zidane." "Mexer" is a verb that means something along the lines of, idiomatically, "to mess with." It is what my father would tell me to stop doing when I'd be picking at a scab. And it's the perfect description for what Parreira did. Why mess with something that had conceded a mere goal in four matches and was cruising along perfectly well? And if you are going to screw around, why keep in Ronaldo, who, despite his performance against Ghana, still didn't look sharp (though neither did Adriano—you have a lot to battle back from come South Africa, young man)?

But it all boils down to Italy, the dirtiest team I've seen play. "Cheat to win" was this side's credo, and it started right from the word go. Other teams with traditions of histrionic diving (Portugal, Argentina) at least back up their flopping with some sort of flash of offense—Argentina's opportunistic running up of the score even convinced many that they were the team to beat at this World Cup. Italy showed none of that. Their goal against the US came from a set piece delivered by, what else, a flop outside the area. Dive, set-piece, goal. Cheat to win.

Cheat to win. AFP.

Sure, I'm bitter. I wish Brazil were in the final. I think Brazil would have made quick work of Portugal, and I think they would have outlasted Italy. I'm also bitter that Brazil no longer stands two stars above all the other teams. Julie Foudy made some sort of comment after the Italians won that it had been a relief after years of futility, seeing that Italy hadn't won in over 20 years. But that's kind of ridiculous, no? Still, for me to go on in parsing that would involve my starting in on the astonishingly sorry state of soccer announcing in the US. I don't think I want to go there.

 APPENDIX:

 I found this sort of interesting. I watched matches of the 2006 World Cup at:

1. My office (Chicago, IL)

2. The "Hyde Park Center" of the Chicago Graduate School of Business (Chicago, IL)

3. My apartment (Pilsen, IL)

4. Cuernavaca Restaurant (Pilsen, IL)

5. Some evil bar in University Village (Gentrified, IL)

6. O'Hare airport (Chicago, IL)

7. Ruslys household (Mississauga, ON)

8. Molly Bloom's (Toronto, ON)

9. Some bar (Creemore, ON)

10. Rocco's deli (Wasaga, ON)

11. Some hotel (Hamilton, ON) 

12. Pearson Int'l Airport (Toronto, ON)

13. Sheraton Towers (Chicago, IL)

14. Stray Dog (New Buffalo, MI) 

15. Saud's apt. (Bridgeport, IL)