Univision played this after the last match and I wished as I watched it that I could keep it because it was the best, most fitting ending to the best thing in sports. Finally, someone posted it on YouTube. Too bad the still is of the Dutch John Barrymore.

Is it really over? How can early morning games not be there? What will I do now that I’m not burning my eyes out on a TV screen or a computer screen watching games, replays, reading up on everyone. How cruel that it’s only every four years, but it means more because it is. The greatest event in sports draws to a close, the only one besides the odd Olympics and March Madness that I can manage to care about. The weight of history behind very match. The patience of such a game. The planning. The agony. The ridiculously attractive teams (yeah, it’s important to the female crowd so shut up). It’s all over.

On the last day, I had spent all day at work and barely managed to get myself released so I could tune in on Univision.com. I watched most of the match kneeling in front of my computer. It was far from a classic match with the dirty play early on dictating how the rest of the match would be played. There were a lot of Spanish chances and some clean Dutch chances that were not converted. Oh, the agony! But Spain prevailed on the back of a shot by Andres Iniesta who for the third time in the match had a clear shot and had wasted the two previous by waiting too long to shoot. They will run all night through the streets of Madrid tonight… less so in Catalonia. ¡Viva España! The larger part of the Americas celebrates with you tonight, like the Univision commentator said (paraphrased), “Wherever there is a Hernandez, a Ramirez, a Perez, all over the world, they celebrate.”

And now, with FIFA handing out its end of tournament individual prizes, I want in. Here’s my humble version:

MVP: An MVP is someone who means to most to his individual team. Diego Forlan was that man for unheralded Uruguay. Without him in the mix, they were nothing. No other player’s loss would have been felt more on the pitch. As someone wrote, who knows what he would have done if he’d been born a few miles southwest. David Villa is a strong runner up since it was his finishing that delivered Spain into the semis before he was hurt by the new formation upon Del Bosque pulling Torres from the lineup.

The How-To-Lose Award: Germany. They deserved to go to the final at least and it was only thanks to some unfortunate way the draw was made up and some early flameouts by big teams that they ended up playing the superior Spain in the semis and not in the finals, where it should have been. The real final was the semi between Spain and Germany. Classy words by Joachim Low after that match. Immense dignity from all the young players and some of the older leaders. This is how you lose. Germany historically would be a team I would never root for, but this one almost made me want to. They have years, though. They’re so ridiculously young. I imagine they’ll win a World Cup yet and I won’t begrudge them it and neither should you.

The Never Say Die Award: Uruguay. They went down fighting to the Netherlands and simply refused to give up. You don’t often see furious rallies in football simply because of the difficulty of scoring a goal, but that match came close.

The Zinedine Zidane Controversy Award: This is given to the player whose action on the pitch had tongues wagging more than the actual match in question: Luis Suarez, whose handball is still being replayed on ESPN. Nothing may ever match the infamous headbutt but Suarez came the closest this World Cup with his deliberate handball against Ghana that got him sacked from the game and the next, but it gave his team a chance. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done otherwise.

The Miss Congeniality Award: This is awarded to the team that showed the scrappiest sportsmanship and had the unlikeliest rooting for them. The United States. Thanks, guys, for making us look good in the eyes of the world who tends to hate US supercilious, ignorant behavior. You actually got 19 million of your countrymen to watch the game against Ghana, making a sport with no timeouts and minimal commercial breaks for a moment popular in an infamously attention-bereft nation.

The Showmanship Award: Argentina. So offensive-minded that they lead the tournament in goals scored while still in it before being rubbed out by Germany. All of their supporters knew they had a weak back line but what did it matter when they scored goal after goal after goal. Little Leo Messi slicing up midfields to feed his strikers goals on a silver platter, doing for them what Xavi and Iniesta do for him in Barcelona. Maradona on the sidelines looking like a benevolent Santa Claus of sorts, kissing all his players, cheering everything, spewing out quotable line after quotable line. Is was pure theatre. But if you live by the sword, you also die by it. They paid for their lack of defense but once gone, they were the team most missed.

The Goal of the Tournament: Let’s face it, there were a lot of great goals scored. There always are and it’s hard to nail one down, so I had to base it on the one that got me off the couch with a loud exclamation. That goal would have to be Carlos Tevez’ second goal against Mexico. It was a perfect kick and the power, passion, and drive he got off that perfect kick while also silencing any nannering about the first goal went unequaled in the rest of the tournament. Messi may be the head of the Albicelestes but Tevez is the heart and in those seconds, he proved it. It’s uncanny how the goal of the last tournament in Germany 2006 was eerily similar and also by an Argentine (Maxi Rodriguez) against, who else, Mexico. Honorable mention would have to goal to David Villa against Honduras, that sliding beauty that beat three defenders and the keeper.

The John Barrymore Award: This one’s not a positive one and it goes to Arjen Robben. I lost all respect for him and his Dutch teammates and possibly his whole frigging country for his clowning around that nearly ruined the final. Just play ball, jackass. A columnist called his faking injury “Robben falling like a clubbed seal”. Great simile. I was disappointed to find out the man is only 26 (though he looks 40) and we’ll have to see his crap in Brazil in 2014. Team Ghana is a runner up. Why they became such a darling of the tournament is beyond me.

The Walk of Shame Award: France, everything about them.

The Biggest Big-Name Flop: I have yet to see any brilliance out of Cristiano Ronaldo. If he wants to play by himself, he went into the wrong sport.

Most Missed: I loved Fernando Torres in 2006, all blonde hair and bravado. Where was he? Nowhere. He hurt his team and looked a moment away from tears throughout the tournament. I kept hoping for something but it never came.

Grandest Entrance: I had never heard of David Villa before this tournament. in Germany 2006, work prevented me from watching a lot of the Spain games and out of them, I remember Torres the most. But King David burst on the scene in a big way by single-footedly keeping Spain in this thing until someone else stepped up to score. And he’s 5’9″. None of his goals were easy tap-ins, they required creativity and doggedness. Brilliant. Viva Villa. Juan Carlos owes him a drink.

The Jon Stewart Media Award: Univision. Thank you for saving us from the sterile ESPN coverage with their tap-water-in-the-veins British commentators and their clueless American sidekicks. Thanks for airing the games online (ABC is stupid). Thanks for the *love* of football. Thanks for the asides, for the heartfelt valedictions, for the heated arguments, for the real feel of football.

Thanks, South Africa, for hosting. Thanks for the 32 teams for showing up. Thanks to FIFA for arranging it. The one good thing about this wild, beautiful month being over is I will no longer have to hear whining about officiating, suggestions for rule changes, or the idiotic drone of the vuvuzelas.

Goodbye, thanks for the game.

Intrigue, excitement, last-minute dives, saves, and general madness and mayhem. This is why the World Cup is the greatest sports event on earth. It’s getting heart-breaking, though. In the two days between the last of the group games leading into the quarterfinals, I had dozens of conversations about all the teams and all the stars and all the possibilities. The one comment that stands out the most for me is, “There are a lot of good teams left, too bad someone has to lose.” Eight left among 32 who qualified for the tournament out of dozens the world over who did not. Those teams are pretty damn good and it’s a pity someone has to come away the winner. In a game like football where every goal is so precious and thousands of small heroics are invisible in the final tally at the end of a match, fates are decided by the smallest of things and often the most controversial.

The Netherlands, revitalized by the reappearance of its star Arjen Robben (a man who looks a full decade older than he is), stunned Brazil who couldn’t handle the pressure and went down in a blaze of panic. Then, that same afternoon Uruguay and Ghana locked horns in a game that went down to the wire of extra time before a surreal turn of events pushed it into a penalty kick shootout. Suarez is out for the next game. People are crying foul that Ghana was robbed, but really, the rule book states what is to happen in that situation and that’s what was done. The Ghana star missed the penalty kick (more a test of nerves than anything else) and hello PK shootout. I hate penalty kick shootouts as much as anyone, but really, what’s the alternative? You can’t continue to add extra time onto exhausted players.

I didn’t want to watch ARG v. GER because I thought it was far too early in the tournament for these teams to meet to produce a winner and a loser. I thought this was almost like a final. I guess I thought wrong. Germany, continuing to look ruthless, ripped Argentina to shreds, exposing what all us Albiceleste supporters have known but cheerfully ignored– that back line was weak and wouldn’t last a moment under serious pressure. They took the Argentines out of their stylish, cheerful attacking game and stabbed early, survived a good Argentina spell, and then whisked the game away. It wasn’t even close those last few minutes. Spain survived an obsessive Paraguay defense with a story line that though previously trod, still looks great at the end. The name is Villa, David Villa and it’s his amazing ability to finish against long odds that have kept the Euro champs in this thing.

Germany owes whoever ended Michael Ballack’s season free beer for a year. Spain owes David Villa a crown. The two meet on Wednesday for the second semifinal. I’m with Spain since they’re the last of the four teams I picked as my “to follow” lot on the ESPN FIFA app for iPhone/ iPod, even though I’m afraid this is a match they can’t win.

Still, VIVA VILLA.

P.S. Dear Del Bosque, please bench Fernando Torres and play someone else for the next match. Anyone. They’re playing with 10 men with him on the field. Loved him in 2006, but he’s just not with it this time.

At the end of two weeks of mad play, the end of the group stage is here and now for a quick rest before the first of the knockout games begin. And they’re not beginning in a timid way at all. It’s USA v. Ghana in a rematch of four years ago. Hopefully, the result will be different this time. Here is a list of the good, the bad, and the indifferent so far:

• Univision mops the floor with ESPN’s coverage. MART-in-ez? Really?
• Will everyone please shut up about Africa’s “disappointing performance”? Who in their right mind would think that their teams, in their infancy, would suddenly be controlling the tournament? Just because it’s in Africa this time? Please.
• South America is 5-5. Talk about that instead. And they didn’t need American handouts or pity or benefit concerts or anything to do it.
• The horns are ridiculous. Football isn’t the same without the chants and songs. FIFA should have grown a pair and banned them.
• To the bored, this game requires intelligence and patience. If you don’t have those qualities, go eat something fried and watch a reality show but leave the rest of us alone.
• French wine and cheese is the best on Earth. Their football team’s behavior was the worst example of unsportsmanlike conduct I have ever seen. This includes my time in the junior leagues. Someone get Madame Guillotine back in service.
• Italy’s out. Shit. How do we turn this somehow into another excuse to party?
• In my dream life, Fabio Cannavaro is still my husband.
• Belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY wishes to La Pulga. Never has such an annoying insect been so honored.
• How ridiculously attractive is the Spanish team?!
• Ronaldo, pass the ball!

And now, to get ready for tomorrow. Isn’t it nice to have a team on the world stage who far from being an embarrassment of cocky, entitled attitudes is actually embodying the best of the sport? Isn’t it? Now that’s something I can believe in. Watch them tomorrow. They’re making us proud.

“We don’t want our people to be preoccupied with seminude, crazy men jumping up and down who are chasing an inflated object,” said Sheik Mohamed Osman Arus, head of operations for the Hizbul Islam insurgent group.

Makes you appreciate our civilization, doesn’t it? I thought so.

There are three reasons soccer isn’t as popular as football, basketball or baseball in the States: First, it’s not an originally American game; it was invented in Europe. Secondly, it’s not a good T.V. sport. Even with pregame, a soccer game on TV lasts two, maybe two and a half hours. It consists of two uninterrupted, 45-minute halves with no time outs- not great for bathroom/beer breaks and leaves little air time for commercials, so there is less money to be made. Third, the United States is not the best at soccer. Americans, in our glorious arrogance, deny a certain amount of legitimacy to a game we’ve not yet become the best at. These three reasons are self-perpetuating as well. Soccer may never be embraced in the U.S. as it is in Europe, but that makes me like it all the more. Being a soccer fan in the U.S. is kind of like being a liberal in small town Louisiana. People resent you, but deep down, they know you’re right. ha ha!

It was written by one Doug from Louisiana and it is exactly right on. I love World Cup football because of the tragedy of the game, it’s non-obsession with fairness or an everyone-wins mentality. It’s tragic, it’s real, it’s a bit like life. I could never watch Premiere league football, though, since I hate pro sports for so many, many reasons, but World Cup football, even if played by pros, is the best sport on Earth. I hope “soccer” never catches on in the US in a big way because we’d ruin it, as we ruin and cheapen so many, many things. Its subtlety and tragedy and pathos would be gone.

I cheered the US team today on their last-minute win. That’s what you have to do, guys. It was a bit of an education. The only thing that matters at the end is the number of goals scored and the refs and the other players and the missed chances count for nothing when that last whistle blows.

A formal petition or whatever the sport equivalent of a lawsuit should never see the light of day. The players should put it behind them and go on. The world feels some sympathy for the US. That’s a sentiment that shouldn’t be squandered by coming off as a sore loser, which is what will happen if the incident isn’t allowed to die a natural death and fade away. Focus on the next game. Win it. Don’t get behind early. Unfortunately, things like that happen. A lot of things, far more important than a football match, get botched by the incompetence of others. That, is Life. Rise above it and go on. In sport-speak, the great teams win in spite of things like that. The US team needs to stop getting behind and show the world they’re a better team, if that’s indeed true. Get the defensive stops, get goals.

The great John Stockton once said something like not letting it bother you and play your own game. It was the aftermath of some horrid game in which the officiating seemed to have been bought and people all over the Valley were calling for the refs’ heads. He never did get his championship but he remains one of the sports figures I will always admire the most.

US soccer fans and the team, let it die and look on to the next match. It won’t get any easier.

The Past and the Present

I watched a game today of which I already knew the result. It was the first time I have ever done that.

US ties it up

It started yesterday with host South Africa scoring the first goal against Mexico. The second game was The Team I Hate The Most vs. Uruguay with no one scoring. It’s the World Cup. The entire world is watching… except for the fat spoiled Americans who need instant gratification. I had a conversation with a coworker in the lounge yesterday. He doesn’t get why football (aka soccer) gets everyone all psychotic. It’s not a sport the American temperament can handle. It requires patience. Plays open up slowly over the huge expanse of the pitch. Shots are more blocked than they are allowed to pay off. The rules haven’t changed to make it easier to score. Americans don’t get games with low scores. They don’t have patience. They can’t appreciate the rare flashes of light through a long game. They don’t understand how a final score of 0-0 can be an acceptable result. They want flash and a payoff and a winner. Soccer thwarts that. It’s the world’s game.

My coworker wanted to know why. I don’t know why, but I can imagine it’s because, at least partly, in that it’s the world’s most democratic game. You only need a ball to play. You don’t need a court or a pitch or pavement. You don’t even need shoes. You don’t need to know a lot of rules. You just need a will. That starts the love for the great game, a love that lives in every town in every country in the world except for this one. The best talent gets picked up and coached and watched and paid and emulated and funneled into the club leagues. But even then, as these highly paid athletes don their national jerseys to play as one, it’s still a democratic game. Some of the best players have come out of the worst poverty in the world’s cities. And these favelas in Rio make American inner cities look like wealthy, if violent, enclaves. Height doesn’t help you in this game (see last year’s semi match between Germany and Italy). Lifting weights will only get you so far. Shin guards help against the worst of the other players’ shoes but they won’t help you when you take a face full of grass on the pitch. The only thing that gets you is age, and its reversal is the only thing money can’t buy.

I believe the English invented the modern game. It figures, what with idiosyncratic rules like stoppage time. Today I watched England slump off the field looking embarrassed when the USA team managed to tie them on a missed save by their goalie. Thanks to Univision, I was able to watch the game live through my computer. It was better anyway. The ESPN broadcasters they’re using are British since I guess they couldn’t find enough Americans to do the job. Brits keep their heads in tense situations, most famously in scenarios like Dunkirk. But passion is adverse to their nature. The Mexican commentators were over their heads with excitement over a game that cannot possibly affect Mexico at this early stage of the tournament.

Tomorrow’s a bit of a rest with two games with people who won’t win anything and the headliner being Germany and Australia. I can hardly wait to see my winner pick of Spain and the ridiculously gorgeous Italian team and top-ranked Brazil. Any one can beat anyone else at any time. This is the only international sporting contest where countries can field teams on the fairest ground. True, cold countries may have once been at a disadvantage, but with modern indoor stadia and temperature control, that’s a thing of the past (see the competent Dutch team and 2006 third-place Germany). Teams are meeting on the most equal ground available. It doesn’t matter if you have sandy beaches or craggy cliffs or are land-locked or live half your life in the sea. It doesn’t matter much if you’re rich or not. Brazil’s players come from the favelas and they’re ranked #1. The well-funded USA team has to enter as just another humble participant.

I love this game. Let’s play.

Photo: As appeared in the NY Times. Darren Staples/ Reuters

• The Lost Finale: This show was superlative for one season, good for two, and then nearly unwatchable for the rest. The story lines became more and more labyrintine until it was obvious it had gotten out of the writers’ control. Number one rule of fiction is to stay in control of the story! I kept watching it, though, in the unrequited hopes that it would get better or that it would suddenly all make sense. I abhor time travel and I nearly hated the show when it was added on as yet another feature in the laundry list of weird things that kept appearing. Weird is good, time travel is ridiculous. Ridiculous is never good. I watched the finale, though, glad it was ending. At first, I thought it was all just pointless since everyone had been dead all along. Talk about uber cop-out. But then I rethought it and it made more sense. If it was Jack who died and the so-called other reality was all just because of his creation, then it makes more sense. The others could have lived years after he saved them and the church scene is a place out of time altogether. Then, it makes more sense and it’s almost good. Thanks for two great seasons but special thanks for finally ending it.
• Apple tops Microsoft: Check this one out. Here’s one to those who gave you up for dead. Here’s one for underdogs everywhere. Creativity tops simple profit every time.
• U2 Tour: Feel better, babe. It makes me glad I didn’t bother to get tickets. I just wasn’t in the frame of mind at the time. Maybe when they’ll reschedule, they’ll get the memo that Philly in the summer is a shortcut to suicide… or homicide. Whichever. It’s already 90 today and it’s freakin’ May for godssake!

I realize there’s an oil spill. I can say nothing about it. It makes me too sick.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him;
The evil that men do lives after them,
The good is oft interred with their bones,
So let it be with Caesar … The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answered it …
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all; all honourable men)
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral …
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man….
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason…. Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

It’s National Backstabbed By Your Friends Day.

Seriously, 15 March is the infamous Ides of March when 2054 years ago, G. Julius Caesar, the original whose name became a title, was stabbed to death in the Theatre of Pompey in Rome. Here’s to the original Renaissance Man… when the things brought back during the Renaissance were having their original date in the sun. Marc Antony, who William Shakespeare would write a terrific speech for 1600 years later, dressed in slave clothes and ran away but gave a speech on the rostra that afternoon. Some people may wonder what the big deal is all about, but those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. Think on the date for a moment how easily democracy can be taken away, how you have to stand for something or you’ll stand for anything, and how precarious power can be. And I’m not talking about Caesar, but the plotters who thought, in their blindness, that if they killed him, the old republic would come back. Little did they know that they killed it when they killed him and democracy wouldn’t be seen again until the Colonies broke with Britain. They had no plan, they only had jealousy and fear for their privileges which they felt his reforms were eroding. Think about that, especially with the big tug of war going on now In Washington.

Or just get educated already.

Yesterday, the Garces group opened the Garces Trading Company on the outskirts of the gayborhood. Today, I went. It’s smaller than I thought it would be with a cafe with waiter service in the middle and the food purchase areas around the perimeter in a sort of racetrack around the eating area. Cheeses and charcuterie are next to each other with bread over in the corner. The serve-it-yourself oil and vinegar section is facing it in the little alleyway. Croutons and crackers are beneath and sweet spreads and marmelades are at one end and savory canned goods on the other. Pastries and the coffee bar are in the back with a single bar table in which to sit. There’s a refrigerated section for canned and bottled drinks. The other side of the area is a temperature controlled section devoted to the new wine shop. It’s owned and operated by the PCLB but the wines are actually stored right, the employee knows how to help you, and there are a good deal of wines not seen anywhere else in the state of Pennsylvania. It’s all-European with the Italian section being the largest. Beyond, in a corner is the cashier for the wine and alcohol.

The place is lovely with a bit of the rustic feel of Amada. Employees are neatly uniformed and a few were very helpful (I try to be realistic about service, we are in Philadelphia after all). The cheese section has nothing DiBruno’s wouldn’t but it’s well-curated and they’re generous with the samples. The charcuterie is geared towards the Iberians and I bought my beloved sobrasada not found anywhere else in the this city (to my knowledge). There’s a small yet immaculate collection of olives. It is not self-serve, thankfully, something that has always bothered me about the olive bar at DiBruno’s. While it has fewer varieties than the Italian shop across town, the varieties are hand-picked. I got some arbequinas, not always available unlike their French and Italian relations. Since I have bread at home right now, I didn’t take a look at that section but many other people were and I can only imagine it’s as perfect as the bread served at the restaurants in the group.

There are some interesting oils, once again a carefully curated collection with even one California one in there for balance. It’s self-serve, though. Patrons fill their own bottles which are then sealed at the cashier. This could be a disaster in the making, especially with liquid gold like white truffle oil. Hopefully, the cheese and charcuterie section will always be heavily staffed to avoid catastrophes from happening. I wonder if children should be banned at the door.

Among the preserves from France and Italy is a small collection of Garces’ own cheese accompaniments including roasted garlic dulce de leche, truffled lavender honey, sangria honey, and the cherry fig preserve I bought. They’re a steal at $5 a piece. The savory canned section has piquillo peppers and real navajas. I bought a tin of conchas and can hardly wait to eat them when I’m done writing this. Condiments other than vinegars and oils were few.

The pastry section has great deals on the little cookies like financiers, macarons, and madeleines. The chocolate ones were calling my name with a perfect sugar crust, but they will only sell them in dozens. Knowing I’d eat them all if I got the dozen, I didn’t.

Overall, the place has great food but the layout is a bit tight and it’s smaller than I thought it would be. I was there are the end of an ordinary work day on Ash Wednesday so it was steadily busy but not exploding with people. I can’t imagine the chaos that would ensue on a Saturday when larger crowds descend on anything of Garces in this town. It also seemed to be fairly dark in there. I don’t know if it was on purpose mood lighting, but I didn’t know there were signs with the menu above our heads until I had been there about half an hour. There also seemed to be a lot of employees, a lot. And with the space being as limited as it is, it made for a tight squeeze. Though there’s a coffee bar with a full barista, I couldn’t imagine wanting to hang out there. All food purchases must be made at the one cashier by the coffee bar. Forget about relaxing reading your paper whilst being jostled by those waiting to pay and those looking at the dessert case.

The wine boutique has some real gems, though, and given Pennsylvania’s ridiculous liquor laws, it’s the first of its kind. There is knowledgeable, genial help in there and that, my friends, is priceless. Also, there are great deals. You don’t have to pay even $20 to get a good bottle. Plenty has been selected at the more everyday end of the scale. You have to pay separately than the food, but then that’s the world we live in. The cafe looks nice and you might actually have more breathing room sitting in there eating and drinking while people do their grocery shopping on the perimeters.

I can’t help thinking they need more space for all they’re trying to do. I wonder what they could have done with a space like DiBruno’s Chestnut Street location, but it is what it is. The food’s of great quality, there are Iberian specialties not found anywhere else in this city of Italians, and we can buy wine now from people who actually drink it.

Thanks, Jose.