Monday, July 2, 2018
Round of 16
Not too many people really read, all told. And very, very few of those people read this. And of that delightful group, almost none of them (you) have any interest in soccer and The World Cup. And of that tiny subsection, which may number as little as a fraction of a person, there is not a tremendous interest in my soccer notes as they come out, seeing as they are after the fact, running two or three days past the events they anticipate or discuss. But here it is, a couple of days into the round of 16, and onto the Internet burst my thoughts from the night before the round of 16, all heedless of all external interest and relevance.
It's just how I roll, like a gorgeous, threaded Iniesta pass that 19 out of 20 times isn't going to lead to anything.
Because that's just how soccer rolls.
And so on the eve of the round of 16 my thoughts turn to the impending fortunes of Argentina (who any alert person thinks won't do well), Uruguay (who any alert person thinks should do well), and Spain (who any alert person thinks is supposed to do well).
But very few alert people watch World Cup Soccer in America.
So we here are thinking nothing, our insides scooped hollow, and we are a collection of pure nerves and intimations of doom.
Anything can happen.
And it precisely will.
Posted by Feldenstein Calypso at 6:30 AM
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