Proud of our ties and gay uniforms
OK, so we tied the Brits in World Cup soccer. Fabulous. We've already done better than I predicted. Hey, I never said I could foresee the future in soccer. I can foresee the future whenever any American female sexually assaults or murders an American male (she'll get way with it), but when it comes to sports I'm just guessing like everyone else.
Murder!
I guess we suck, like we have sucked at every World Cup tournament. But maybe I'll be proven wrong this year and our men will hurl themselves to the ground wailing that they've been murdered after someone barely brushes their ankle like world-class Europeans and draw some fabulous, game-winning penalty shot opportunities, eh? And then we'll finally be proud, proud of grown men throwing themselves down and crying even though they aren't really hurt, because that's how soccer is played. Which explains why we Americans like American football better. The only players in American football allowed to throw themselves to the ground and cry are the kickers, and no one respects the kickers. Because all NFL kickers are former soccer players, and this marks them for life as girlie men.
Dive like a little bitch
I don't even watch soccer anymore. I used to play, and when I played I liked to watch it. I learned things from watching the pros play. I learned that I and my team sucked real bad compared to the pros. I also learned that I was doing everything wrong because I had never thrown myself to the ground in a shameless attempt to draw a penalty.
Very fancy dive
But today, if I watch soccer it just reminds me of why I quit playing. It reminds me of a cheap kick to the groin that put me in the emergency room. It reminds me of a kick that tore my knee and sent me to the emergency room before the groin kick. It reminds me of a kick to my leg while I was laying on the ground that tore my knee and sent me to surgery after I figured out that I wasn't going to be able to 'shake it off.' It reminds me of a player who kicked me for the hell of it as I was running past him, causing me to land on my shoulder and rip it apart in the turf as he threw himself to the ground and cried like a bitch that he'd been pushed, which he had not. The ref stopped them carrying me off the field to the hospital to give me a yellow card. I shit you not.
Wait, I want to give him a penalty before he gets to surgery
Soccer reminds me of hospital emergency rooms and surgeries and pains I still have with me to this day and will probably have for the rest of my life. And it reminds me of pussies who throw themselves to the ground and cry like bitches in the hopes that the ref will see their tears and give them a free penalty shot which they don't deserve instead of giving them a red card for faking an injury, like the rules specify, forcing their team to actually play the fucking game and rely on their athletic ability and manhood to win the game instead of their ability to bitch and cry like fucking babies.
Nobody dives better than Italy
Watching soccer today reminds me of elbows to the throat by Iranian assholes on my own team who just want to see how many people they can hurt and don't really care about the ball or the game itself. It reminds me of Mexican players who can't speak English and listen to German polka music at deafeningly high volume out in the parking lot prior to every game. It reminds me of a Korean player on my team who got kicked in the knee, destroying it, by a Palestinian player who couldn't beat him, so he just decided to eliminate him from the game completely. It reminds me of Nigerian players who threaten everyone and constantly try to pick fights, but run like scared children when the fighting actually begins for real. It reminds me of an all-black team from Memphis who spent more time complaining that the refs were all racists than they ever did actually playing the fucking game. It reminds me of a fat old guy who no longer had any skill, so he relied instead of kicking the other players in the groin every chance he got in order to gain an advantage over them. Whenever anyone touched him, or punched him in his fat face, which we did, he screamed and cried like the fucking no-talent fairy that he was, only to return the next week for another game and do it all over again because that shit is what he lived for.
Our uniforms look gay
Watching soccer today reminds me of a lot of bad times in sports. It reminds me of all the bad people who let out their pent-up hatreds and frustrations from their shitty lives the second they set foot on that field, not caring the least bit about the game itself, but prefering instead to see how badly they could hurt other people, how many men they could assault before being kicked off the field so they could go to the bar after the game and brag to their fat, drunken girlfriends about how the other guy had it coming and "did you see what I did to him? It was awesome when you could hear his leg actually crack." And their fat, alcoholic slutty girlfriends ooh and ah and admire them for being total assholes, only to run screaming from them years later because they are such total assholes.
How could she have known, right?
Bust his balls!
I remember plenty of games where everyone tried to play by the rules, the most skilled players scoring goals, not by crying and throwing themselves to the ground, but by simply using their superior skills to place the ball in just the right spot in the goal so that no one could stop them, the best defenders stopping offensive attacks, not by elbowing the other player in the throat, but by simply stealing the ball from them legally and running away with it. I remember plenty of good games with good people and good players. But as each year went past, those games seemed fewer and fewer, and the nasty games and dirty players seemed more and more, until finally I decided that my local hospital emergency room nurses knew me far too well, and in fact, knew far too much about our entire league and all our players thanks to our many, many visits.
Welcome to the ER!
Maybe it's my imagination, but in almost every sport I watch lately, whether it's football or basketball or soccer or whatever, I swear it seems like there are more dirty players than there used to be, and the fans are more excited about an NBA player kneeing another player in the balls than they are about a good slam-dunk or a winning half-court shot at the buzzer. We truly don't care that our baseball players use steroids. We truly don't care that our local NFL team's last 2 quarterbacks have either been murdered by their mistresses or they have just been arrested for slugging a stripper in a strip club. We don't care if a boxer bites off his opponent's ear because he's frustrated that he can't beat him fighting straight up. We don't care if the fastest Olympic speed skaters are doped up beyond anything we've seen since the East German women stepped out into Olympic competition looking like the manliest men we'd ever seen many long years ago. We don't care if many of the games are more about playing dirty than about winning. We don't care if every single ultimate fighter in the cage is clearly using a shitload of drugs to build up his muscles, just so long as he smashes the other guy's face in and smears his blood all over the octagon. We don't care if little boys are looking at this and learning that what we expect of them in order to recognize them one day as real men is that they simply hurt every other boy and any girl who gets in their way as badly as possible and preferably while we watch and cheer and rewind it so we can watch it again and again.
Back when hitting the quarterback in the head was mandatory
This is no doubt a trend. I've read books by NFL players from back in the '60s and '70s which detailed horrific things they'd done or seen done or had done to them in an age when professional football was dirtier than today's ultimate fighting and shortened a man's lifespan by a good 20 years. I didn't see those games or those men play. I guess I first saw sports on TV in the period just after, when rules were put into place and enforced to try to clean things up. I must've just discovered sports at the start of a new era of cleaner, nicer playing, during an era when most of the players grew up with fathers who taught them what it really means to be a man, and it had nothing to do with how many people you can hurt just for the hell of it. I'm not comfortable with this new era of fatherless boys who truly earn the label of 'bastard' when they step out onto the field.
Never knew his daddy
And I have equal disrespect for the men who step onto the world's stage of World Cup soccer, only to flop down onto the grass the instant an opponent brushes past them, screaming "ref, ref, I've been murdered!" while crying like bitches.
Kiwis vs Slovakia for the tie
Now, having said all that, I'm probably going to go home after work, turn on the TV, and watch a whole bunch of World Cup Soccer. I'll most likely ignore everything I've just said here and make a complete hypocrite of myself, which should shock no one. The fact is, World Cup players are better than most players and certainly better than any player I've ever played against. The diving drives me up the wall, and I know some teams truly are dirty bastards. But when the game is played right, the way it should be, and dirty players are thrown out of the game, while fairies who dive are booed and shamed for their princess drama tactics, it can be pretty damned exciting.
Frustrating loss for the Aussies
And sometimes, when the games are really close at the very end, and someone scores a last second winning goal, I may even get excited and shout at the TV.
This woman was never at any of my games
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