On the USA vs. Portugal Game

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Mixed emotions here, folks.

On the one hand, our boys clearly outplayed the supposed 4th ranked team in the world.

On the other hand, that don't mean squat when we can't come away with the three points. And I can't help but think the Portuguese were handicapped to begin with. All that hair gel and spray tanning has to clog the pores and make sweating a laborious affair.

Still, never have I seen "the best player in futbol" look so totally pedestrian for 94 minutes. A complete non-factor. Our boys put the leather to him and it worked in a big way.

Some other positives to take from this game:

1. The USMNT is no longer happy just to be competing against the best teams in the world. It's win, or go home, and that's the attitude we need to advance.

2. At long last, the US has found itself a long shot artist. I mean, talk about range. Jermaine Jones was actually moving AWAY from goal when he let that thing rip. I'm getting hot under the collar just thinking about it...

3. Clint Dempsey can score with any and every part of his body. Literally. Next game he will score via no-look booty bump. You heard it here first, folks.

4. We still have the best goalie in the tournament. Don't let those two cheap shots fool ya. Big Time Timmy Jim is the real deal. As stout as it gets. If he can just get our back line to focus up for a full 95 minutes, we'll be a tough out for anyone.

That final goal last night was a definite WTF moment, but we still have a 75% chance of advancing, and I like those odds. This USMNT has shown time and again they aren't your poppa's soccer team. Before last night, Portugal had never lost or even tied after scoring first in the World Cup, and the US had never come back from an early deficit. But this new US team seems particularly unconcerned with history or expectations. Not only did we come back, but we dominated that game.

And now the rest of the world knows that we're not afraid of them.

Thomas out.

On the FIFA World Cup

It's almost upon us, folks. Can't you just smell it all around us, a spicy, international aroma which assaults the senses like a opaque cloud of Drakkar Noir wofting off two dozen quaffed, manscaped Portuguese men?

That's right. It's the FIFA World Cup. Time to break out your red, white and blue face paint and your weird, knit USA scarves. Where do you get those things, anyway?

Four years ago, I regarded soccer much the same way I regarded dubstep--I was content to leave it to the hipsters and the immigrants. But I'm nothing if I'm not a nationalist, and like it or not I rose in the small hours of the morning with my futbolphile of a younger brother to cheer on my country. If I could do it for archery or curling, why not soccer? Little did I know that by the time the national treasure formerly known as Landon Donovan was busy burying the go-ahead goal in the back of Algeria's net in stoppage time, I'd already be hooked. Real talk, though-- that replay still gives me the heeby-jeebies.

Turns out, I went through something of a personal transformation during the 2010 World Cup. I like to think I became a little more open-minded, a little more accepting. I've devoted countless, irretrievable hours to the FIFA's 12, 13, and 14 for the Xbox. I've opened up my heart and let soccer in.

Four years is a slow, slow burn, but this time I'm ready. I'm pumped. The US is almost certainly doomed, but our chances weren't super to begin with. LD isn't even going to be there, after all. But who cares? There are still a host of compelling story lines outside the 50 states.

Will Neymar finally tell us his last name?

Will Cristiano Ronaldo play naked to distract his opponents? And will this backfire by distracting all of his flamboyant teammates?

Who will Luis Suarez bite first?

Will Hulk smash?

Get psyched, boys and girls. FIFA says turn down for what, and though I haven't yet figured out what that means, I still intend to waste most of my June in Brazil. Figuratively.

Thomas out.