Opting 4 Resignation, Offseason Sunday Etc. Etc.

All favorites are in the World Cup Semis. There will be no dark horse to this Mundial, no surprise team that kept improving and got hot, no goofy prodigy thrilling hundreds of millions with futbol skills and charisma. After a 48-team field, we get chalk at the end. Tch.

I might as well see how it all ends. Besides, it’s only one more week of lofty expectations and crushing disappointment followed by self-hatred for being so freakin’ naïve as to think that F*F* would—ANYWAY.

To be fair

the Semis are very tasty matchups, in every context. The first is France v. Spain on Tuesday a.k.a. Bastille Day. It’s at Jerryworld, the Versailles of camp. For me, La France and España (current Euro champion), are the best two squads in international Lesser. Don’t underestimate Spain, who are quick and fearless—the total opposite of La Armada Invencible. I would have no problems at all if any of these squads win the whole thing. And now that I manifested my only wish left for this Mundial, do yourself a favor and bet your medical expenses piggybank on the other Semi’s winner to become 2026 World Champion.

On Wednesday it’s Argentina v. England, only the hottest ticket in international futbol since México 1986’s Hand of God + the Greatest Goal.*

* That second Maradona goal is futbol’s “The Godfather is the best movie ever THE END”. It feels truthy, but constant repetition of this taek created an alternate reality where even The Godfather Part II is “MIIIIIID!”. A conversation is better than an imposition, unless you are talking to your children #Obvio

England fans will always be sour for the Maradona handball, which is as much of the D10s legend as the otherworldly futbol skill. And, if anything, this Mundial has cemented Argentina’s reputation as being, ah, putting it mildly: lucky in lots of chicanery. Goddammit, I don’t remember ever being this irritated about the New England dynasty years, the Brady ref coddling, peak massholery, etc. etc. And yet, here we are. ARG is already in (fucking Swiss), so no sense crying over spilled fondue.

I can see positives, though. First, for its performance in this Mundial, England is hereby forbidden from ever, ever getting on a high horse, soap box, or other props for grandstanding. Harry Kane has dived plenty, but has yet to be carded about it. And yesterday, ENG tied 1-1 against Norway through an attack where the ball touched the sky cam cable—the Cable of God, if you cheekily will. The Norwegians screamed DEAD BALL STOP THE PLAY WTF!, but the F*F* Secret Ball Tech Commission ruled

So there you have it. Croatian hair is harder than industrial steel wire.

On another topic, I guess that half of the Semis field being Hispanic countries es aceptable. Plus we avoided an all-Europeen final 4, which (for me), is the finest scoreboard analysis to gauge whether a Mundial was compelling. What can I say; holding on to my prejudices makes this catastrophe tolerable.

SPROTS TO MIGHT

WNBA

Chicago @ Dallas – 7 EST

Indiana @ Las Vegas – 9 EST

GRANDES LIGAS

Jesus. The Void is truly coming.

FINALLY,

something objectively awesome. The banner is from the series “Patriot”, for my money, one of the finest stories ever filmed. It’s about John Lakeman, a seriously overworked U.S. spy whose boss is his father. John handles the stress of his job by performing folk songs about his mission failures. Mull that one over, peeps.

If that is not enticing enough, “Patriot” stars Kurtwood Smith as Leslie Claret. Claret is the only boss I’ve seen in film for whom I would run through a wall for, even with his /*SPOILER ALERT*/

coke addiction

/*END OF SPOILER*/

It’s a comedy where bad stuff often happens to nice or innocent folks, and a weird tension is maintained throughout. John had been dodging a homicide detective from Luxembourg, and she finally catches up with him:

It’s 18 episodes total, and I might just rewatch it for the FIF time because it is unique and amazing and every time I have seen something cool previously missed. That is a fine diversion for the next several weeks, when preseason starts. Aahh placeboball, how we yearn for thee.