Sunday, July 09, 2006

Just Call Me Ginogrosso

My bitter disappointment that my first World Cup would be won by either of two insufferable teams, Italy or France, dissipated as soon as the whistle blew. I was hoping to see the French fall. (If they loathe Lance, then I loathe them.)

Like all the World Cup games I’ve watched over the last month, I was not disappointed.

The final had everything: Bad calls that led to penalty kicks that led to an unearned goal; Oscar worthy injury performances; a vicious head butt to the chest (!); and a heart-pounding shoot-out to end it.

It was 120 minutes of beautiful sport. Reminding me once again that there is nothing better in this world than to be young, and strong, and fast.

And let’s talk about the ridiculous good looks of many of these players. Meow! The tattoos running up the inside of their forearms and biceps rocks my world (cup)!

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