Rooting for Paraguay now?

The quarterfinals for the World Cup are now set and the games will be played this Friday and Saturday. Some people expected we might see a few African squads do well, but the only representation they have among the eight teams still competing is Ghana. The big surprise is how well the South Americans are doing. Besides the usual suspects Brazil and Argentina, both Uruguay and Paraguay are still in the tournament. Due to the luck of the draw, we could have an all South American semi-final in the somewhat unlikely event that all four of the teams win their games this week.


Argentina's head coach Diego Maradona has vowed to run through the streets naked if Argentina wins the whole thing. Not to be outdone, Paraguayan lingerie model Larissa Riquelme has made a similar offer should Paraguay be the 2010 champion.

One of these vows is a promise, while the other is more like a threat. I'll let you figure out which one.

A few comments.

1. Am I rooting for Paraguay now? Mmmm, not so much. As cute as Ms. Riquelme is (very, very cute), Paraguay is the worst offensive team still in the tournament, only scoring three goals in regulation time in their first four games, two against the porous Slovakian defense.

2. It's not like finding nekkid and near nekkid pictures of Larissa Riquelme is a very difficult quest on the Internets of 2010.

Hypothetical Question Asker also has a few things he'd like to say.

Storing a cell phone in one's cleavage?
Really?
Is this what the young people are doing these days?
Will Ms. Riquelme single-handedly or double-boobedly start a new trend?
Can the camera option be set off accidentally?
Or maybe by remote control by wishing really, really hard?


I'm sorry, Hypothetical, I do not have the answers for any of your questions. I can say that given Ms. Riquelme's bodacious tatas, she could carry even a more antique model of a cell phone in her cleavage just as easily.

Just sayin'.

A very chalky round of 16.

In the round of 16, known as los octavos in Spanish, the first place finisher in one group plays the second place finisher from a different group. Odds should favor the team that finished first, and that's how it's played out in five out of six of the matches so far.

When did it not work out? Here's a hint. The United States won their group.

Oopsie.

There are only two more matches tomorrow, and while it makes sense to favor the first place teams, one never knows. Paraguay won their group because Italy sucked so bad, but they are playing the upstart Japanese, who were expected to finish last in their group, but instead surprised both Denmark and Cameroon, and only lost to the Netherlands 1-0. In the other game, Spain plays Portugal. The Spanish should be favored, but they are a team that often shines but fails to win the whole enchilada, and some people are impressed with how dominant Portugal was against North Korea.

I'm going to go out on a limb. The Portuguese are good at beating up on cripples, but that doesn't mean the Spanish. Spain by at least two goals in regulation.

I'll go out on another limb. I'll vote against the chalk and send Japan into the quarterfinals, based on the fact that Japan had two wins and one loss, while Paraguay played it safe, winning once and drawing twice. Japan wins in regulation.

You heard it hear first. Go put all your money on it, unless you have already read the posts with the label Matty Boy - Investment Advisor to the Stars*.

In which case, save your money. You betta off.

The Importance of Being Honest

This is the tale of two confessions, the one that I'm about to make and the one that Bob Bradley didn't.

Mine is that I was wrong in my last post. One of the good things about soccer is not that there's no instant replay. Officials have managed to repeatedly demonstrate at this World Cup that they make mistakes. Horrible, blatant, game-changing mistakes.

While it would disrupt the rhythm of a match to stop play for a video review for every close call, there isn't any reason why the fourth official couldn't have reviewed either the goal that should have been but wasn't (Frank Lampard's strike against Germany) or the one that was but shouldn't have been (Carlos Tevez's goal from a clear offside position against Mexico).

On Tevez's goal there were no logistics to work through. Play was stopped anyway because a supposed goal had been scored. And clearly the goal would have been disallowed if it had been reviewed (I can maybe understand missing the call if one defender had been goal-side of him but none? Seriously?).

A review of Lampard's non-goal, which had to land at least a yard into the goal but was missed by the Assistant Referee, would have been a little trickier but could still be easily accomplished. Since his shot was inexplicably not ruled a goal, play continued so there was no stoppage in play as occurred after Tevez's goal.

It would be simple enough, however, to equip the fourth official (who stands at the touchline and acts as nothing more than a traffic cop for players entering and leaving the field 99% of the time) with video replay technology to allow him to review controversial calls or no calls while play continues. If he decides it should have been a goal, play stops, time is added for the duration of the review, and play restarts with a kickoff.

I would only allow replay in those two instances (that I can think of at the moment) -- offside rulings that lead directly to goals and determinations of whether or not a ball completely crossed the line and therefore was a goal. And I wouldn't allow any NFL-style challenges. Every close play in those two categories would be reviewed while play continues, or before play is restarted.

With the technology available and many other sports using it to get the call right (Wimbledon still makes players dress all in white but has electronic line calls!) there's no reason FIFA shouldn't use it in connection with the biggest, most lucrative sporting event on the planet.

Okay, I fessed up. Bob Bradley, on the other hand . . .

I don't like second-guessing coaches. I know as a coach I don't like it, and understand that there are many considerations that no one else, not even an assistant, is privy to when decisions are ultimately made regarding formations, personnel, etc.

That said, I was very surprised when it was announced that Ricardo Clark would start the match against Ghana instead of Maurice Edu, who had been very solid against Algeria. I figured Bradley knew something we all didn't, but was less sure when Clark gave away the ball early in the game to allow Ghana to score yet another early goal against the U.S. in this World Cup.

When Bradley substituted Edu for Clark in the first half (after Clark had been awarded -- that's an odd term, isn't it? -- a yellow card for a frustration foul shortly after allowing the goal) I thought that Bradley had admitted as much as well. According to ussoccerplayer.com, however, Bradley had a different explanation after the match:

[I] [t]ook him [Clark] off in the first half which is something that we almost never do, but I was concerned about the card. When we're already down 1-0 and now you're trying to push the game in that part of the field, when you play that role playing with a card is incredibly dangerous. I told him that the decision is solely based on the card.

This is a little too much for me to swallow. I understand Bradley's desire to not throw Clark under the bus, which is admirable. But clearly the substitution was an admission, albeit too late, that Bradley had gotten it wrong this time and should have started Edu. It's hard to see how Bradley's post-match explanation helps his credibility with the his players, the media, or, most importantly for him, his bosses at the U.S. Soccer Federation.

The decision to start Clark may well cost Bradley his job, which would be unfortunate. But you can't help but wonder if he had simply said "I got this one wrong, Clark is a useful player and important to our squad, but Edu was the right guy for the job in this match" it might have made a decision to bring in a new coach a little more difficult to make.

Half right in public.

I thought the Yanks could beat Ghana, but the United States had other ideas. Once again, they gave up a ridiculously easy early goal and had to fight back, just like they did against England and Slovenia. Just like in those games, the Americans fought back and tied the game, but now we are in the knockout rounds. Ghana scored in extra time and the U.S. team is flying back home. If they aren't disappointed deep down, they should be.

I should give props to Ghana. I wrote a post last Sunday entitled Not This Time For Africa, but an African squad is in the quarterfinals, and they have a fighting chance to beat Uruguay. Good work for Ghana.


The English fancied their chances in this World Cup. Ladbrokes gave them a better chance to win the whole thing than they gave Germany, Brazil or Argentina.

What this really says is the English gambling public are mad.

Germany was supposed to be too inexperienced. Tell that to Thomas Müller, the 20 year old striker who plays his club football for Bayern Munich. In this picture, he wears the number 25 and appears to be 25 feet tall. In reality, he wears 13 for Germany and is only 13 feet tall. (Note: One of those statements is factually inaccurate.) While Germany can still get goals from old hands like Miroslav Klose, it was Müller who scored twice as Germany dominated a disorganized English squad, winning 4-1.

The English can complain about a goal stolen from them by a sleeping assistant referee, but guess what? All that would do is change the score to 4-2. This was the ass kicking most sane people thought it would be.

England lost and they deserved to lose. The Germans now face the winner of Argentina-Mexico that starts a few hours from now. It's an uphill battle for the Mexicans, but they can show the spark they had against France, this game could go either way. I will be at La Estrellita, my vuvuzela at the ready, rooting for good football and hoping against hope El Tri can surprise the very scary Argentines.

Take a hint, Dick.

Dick Cheney is evil. I don't say this about everyone I disagree with politically, but in his case, the description is accurate.

Let me be clear. I am not comparing Cheney to Adolf Hitler. That would break Godwin's Law, a rule I believe in deeply. Nor I am not comparing him to Stalin or Charles Manson.

Those people are losers and clowns. They are the Chicago Cubs of evil.

Dick Cheney is a member of the New York Yankees of evil. The truly successful villains are the ones who die quietly in their sleep surrounded by family and loved ones. Dick Cheney is like the guy who invented the concept of the pre-existing condition. Dick Cheney is the spiritual brother of the writer of the memo at Ford that said it was cheaper to pay the benefits to the families of people who would die in defective Pintos than it was to fix the defects in Pintos.

Dick Cheney is the textbook example of how evil wins.

Though I am in general a non-believer in most things supernatural, I do believe people have souls. I consider the heart to be a physical thing unconnected to the soul, so in my world view, it is just coincidence that Dick Cheney has a rotten soul and a worse heart.

Dick Cheney's heart has been trying to kill him for about 32 years now. He has had six official heart attacks and has been hospitalized several other times for chest pains, including this week. He also an Implantable Cardiac Defibrillator or ICD, a little electronic device in his chest that makes it nearly impossible for his defective heart to kill him, no matter how many times it tries or how badly he abuses his cardiovascular system.

Not every thing modern medicine can do is a blessing. I don't know how devout Mr. Cheney is. I expect not very. With every painful tightening of his badly designed chest, he must know a judgment is waiting, and that his best hope is for meaningless oblivion.

Take a hint, Dick. Jud Crandall in Pet Sematary said it best.

Sometimes, dead is better.

The Lesbians Are All Right

I know there is concern, and understandably so, that lesbian director Lisa Cholodenko's new film, The Kids Are All Right, includes a plot twist involving a lesbian (Julianne Moore) sleeping with her sperm donor (Mark Ruffalo). I have not seen the film, which is not released until July 9, but I have to say that I'm not going to get my bikini briefs in a bunch over this.

First of all, I'm willing to give Cholodenko the benefit of the doubt on the integrity of the lesbian credibility of this film because
the writer/director of High Art and Laurel Canyon has an impressive track record. You heard it here first: Cholodenko is the Nancy Meyers of lesbian film. But edgier because she is, after all, a dyke. She is brilliant at capturing—creating, I suppose is a better term—mood, culture, and the influence of place. The place in her latest film, as it was in Laurel Canyon, is California. The golden, barefoot, wine-infused, faded T-shirt kind of California you imagine when Joni Mitchell sings. In fact, Cholodenko has said that Mitchell's Ladies of the Canyon was an aesthetic influence on Laurel Canyon. And Mitchell is very much present in this latest film: The daughter is named Joni, and a duet of All I Want (~I wanna make you feel free~) is sung by Annette Bening and Ruffalo.

Secondly, from what I can see, Julianne Moore and Annette Bening portray a realistic (if, granted, unusually good looking) lesbian couple who are in a real, in-depth, long-term relationship. How often do you see that on film? Seldom. So let's welcome this. Cholodenko, 46, has been around the block, and so when she describes her choice to build an otherwise conventional family around two women as a "radical gesture," I think we should give her some credit. It is indeed a radical gesture in Hollywood.

Why first is better than second.

There are no promises or sure things in the World Cup, but looking at the matches in the knockout rounds, some teams have a much harder road to the final than others. The miracle goal by Landon Donovan gave the United States first place in Group C, so their first match in the round of 16 is against Ghana, second place finisher in Group D. The Americans are slight favorites at most of the gambling establishments and should they prevail, they meet the winner of Uruguay and South Korea. These are not names to strike fear in the hearts of opposing football teams. Uruguay was good back before I was born, but I am very old, and South Korea finishing second in their group is one of the big positive surprises of the tournament so far. The Yanks playing a semi-final match is a real possibility.



Then there is England. They finished second to the United States in Group C, so they face Germany in their first round. The Germans have made it to the semi-finals in eight of the last eleven World Cups. Very tough game for the Limeys in such an early round.

Should England pull off the win, they face the winner of Argentina-Mexico. Win that game, and they are likely to face the current European champs Spain. Who would they meet in the finals? Probably Brazil, but it could be the Dutch. Heck, if everything bounces the right way, it could be the United States.

Predictions in this World Cup have been pretty useless so far, but I have to say I don't like the Limeys chance to go deep in this tournament. If they do prevail, they will have earned one of the toughest victories in 80 year history of the World Cup, the most prestigious championship for national teams on the world stage today in any single sport.

Random 10, 6/25/10

Who Was That Man? Nick Lowe
Adagio: Concierto De Aranjuez (Rodrigo) Zoltan Tokos and the Budapest Strings
Temptation Elvis Costello & the Attractions
Shamed Into Love Elvis Costello & Bill Frisell
Baltimore Randy Newman
Twisting They Might Be Giants
Keep On Walking Spanic Boys
Shock The Monkey Peter Gabriel
Come Dancing The Kinks
Go Now The Moody Blues

Does this Random 10 come from the computer of an old person? Why yes it does, thanks for asking. It's all 20th Century and only six of four can be found on the You Tubes, which makes it feel like 2007 or something.

I put up the Union Jack because six of ten songs are from British artists. The weirdest coincidence on the list is that I was singing the Spanic Boys tune to myself just this afternoon, though I haven't heard it in many a moon. Even weirder, it's one of the songs found on The You Tubes, while better known artists like Nick Lowe and Elvis Costello get shut out.

Whatchoo listenin' to?

The groups of deadly cake

The preliminary round of the World Cup splits the teams into groups of four. Two of the four will advance, and the worst case scenario for the teams is to be in a Group of Death, where at least three quality teams vie for the two top spots. The opposite situation is where there is a prohibitive favorite that should finish first and might finish second if everything goes wrong, and the other teams are hoping to sneak a few crumbs off the table. I call this a Group of Cake.


What could go wrong in a Group of Cake? Well, ask the French. Here were the odds from the British bookies at Ladbrokes of the teams in France's group to win the whole thing when the match-ups were announced.

Uruguay 66/1
Mexico 80/1
South Africa 80/1
France 16/1

Why did I list the French last? Because that's where they finished in their group. After a dull 0-0 draw against Uruguay, Les Bleus proceeded to lose to both Mexico and South Africa and finish at the bottom of the table. This wasn't good, but for many knowledgeable fans, it wasn't a huge surprise. Their coach was widely reviled and after the loss to Mexico, the bad blood on the team was easy to see. But still, the favorite finishing dead last? That has to happen once a blue moon.


Apparently, blue moons happen much more often in the Southern Hemisphere. Here are the odds for winning the whole shebang for the squads in Group F.

Paraguay 40/1
Slovakia 150/1
New Zealand 1000/1
Italy 10/1

Again, Italy is list at the bottom because that's where they finished. Unlike the French, the Italians were playing strategically, getting a tie from the next best team Paraguay in the first match, but then letting New Zealand off the hook, a team who were supposed to be complete door mats. (The two other teams at 1000/1 are North Korea and Honduras, who have lost all the games they have played so far. The Kiwis pulled off three draws, a stunningly good result for them.)

The Italians still had their destiny in front of them. Beating Slovakia in the final group match could still give them a ticket to the elimination rounds, where all the uninspired play in the first three games can be forgiven with a few brilliant goals and some solid defense.

Instead, Slovakia scored in the 25th minute to take a 1-0 lead into the intermission, then put in what looked like the winner in the 71st. Italy scored to make it 2-1, then Slovakia again in the 89th for 3-1 and Italy in the 90th for 3-2. But that's where it would end, ending the hopes of the World Champions to repeat.

Along with the Americans' stoppage time heroics yesterday, this is some very crazy stuff, and we haven't even played a game that might be decided on penalty kicks yet.

Stay tuned, but if you have a weak heart, consult your physician first.

This working for a living... not as much fun as they let on.

Let me make a criticism of soccer as a soccer fan. 0-0 draws are almost always miserable to watch. You might come away with a "we wuz robbed" moment or be on the opposite end of that feeling, realizing your team escaped from a stinging defeat. More than likely, 0-0 draws mean really sad offense on both sides. The U.S. and Algeria played this morning and the game was 0-0 into the 91st minute. England was finally winning a game, so it looked like the Yanks were about to be yanked from the competition.

And then Landon Donovan hits a calm, cool and collected rebound shot and the U.S. wins the game and finishes first in their group.

I heard about all of this and the heartbreaking almost goals and all the action in the game after the fact because I had to prepare for class. Grrrr!

What does finishing first mean? The next game for the Yanks is Ghana. The next game for the second place Limeys is Germany.

One of these games is easier than the other. I'll let you guess which one.

Work is going to keep me away from half of the round of 16 matches and all the semifinals, but I should have time to watch all the quarterfinals and OBVIOUSLY the Grand Final.

I do love this tournament. I loved the first one I kept track of way back in 1966 and I loved all the ones in between. Football is a lovely game at this level.

C'mon In Boys, the Water's Fine

One and one-half hours and 45 seconds of nerve-rattling theater.

That's how long it took for Landon Donovan's goal, probably the most important goal in the history of U.S. men's soccer. What happened in those 90 plus minutes defines both what is right about soccer and why the provincialists among American sportswriters, fans, and talk show hosts (Sean Hannity doesn't like soccer? Oh, the horror) are so wrong.

It was crazy, it was choreography, it was froth-at-the mouth exasperating, it was exhilarating, it was schizophrenic, it was sublime.

Not unlike a normal day, when you have a good day at work, but the drive home is stymied by some idiot driver (probably with an Ohio license plate on his vehicle), or are trying to finish the perfect project or paper only to be annoyed by a co-worker, or are making a brilliant argument in court only to be stopped dead in your tracks by an inane observation or simplistic question.

Unlike American football (which, by the way, I enjoy watching very much), so much of soccer is ungoverned and ungovernable. No instant replay, please. No excessive celebration penalties, we beg (okay, you get a yellow for taking off your shirt, but how many 15 yard penalties would the Saints get if they celebrated a touchdown the way the Slovenians celebrated a goal?).

Go ahead, keep the NBA, with its 100+ field goal attempts, 200 points, 50 personal fouls, and five dives/flops (yes, they do that in the NBA too) per game. Keep Major League Baseball, with its juiced up balls, juiced up bodies, and bandbox ballparks all introduced to score more runs and thereby make it more modern American.

Give me a game filled with uncertainties and foibles, where the most talented team doesn't always win and maybe a bad call does change the outcome. But where the players run for miles every game, play offense and defense (ask Tim Howard about that one) every game, and trade shirts with the opposition when it's over.

And, every once in a while, a game filled with 90 nerve-wracking minutes that ends in a single, exhilarating, jump off the couch, high-five, I-remember-when moment of complete joy.

America loves winners and loves winning underdogs even more. That's why it will be watching Saturday as we take on Ghana. But maybe, just maybe, during that match it will get a whiff of the ether that makes the game magical. As Delmar says in Oh Brother Where Art Thou shortly after he's been saved "C'mon in boys, the water's fine."

The Real Lezwives of LA

I should've braced myself for disappointment the instant I saw the advertisement on the back cover of Star Magazine. There, in full color, with sunbeams and palm trees adorning their crotches, were the real lesbians of the new reality series, The Real L Word. The highly anticipated show, developed by L Word creator Ilene Chaiken, premiered Sunday night on Showtime. And it might as well be called The Real Leswives of Los Angeles because the show is pretty trashy.

I do not say it's trashy because I am offended by sex. No, no. I was a big fan of the plentiful sex scenes in The L Word. In contrast, this new lesbian reality show was surprisingly lacking in sex. Rather, it was trashy because Chaiken managed to find, among the otherwise appealing and smart lesbians of LA—which I assume exist, though you'd never know it from this show—a half dozen gutter-mouthed, unprofessional, and unlikable young women. I suppose I should expect nothing less from reality TV. But Chaiken seemed to be aiming no higher than the low-brow bar set by The Real Housewives and The Jersey Shore, which is surprising considering that The L Word was a show of some substance and quality, not to mention beauty. Or perhaps the real lesbians of LA—the polished lesbians—wouldn't be caught dead on reality TV.

In the opening scenes we hear Whitney, the show's tattooed Shane-esque stud, describing LA lesbians as "polished" compared to those East Coast ruffians in New York. If polished means having a vocabulary with adjectives and adverbs limited to those used by Tony Soprano, then, yes, the LA lesbians are very polished. Very fuckin' polished. Or maybe a sign of being polished is pronouncing "Sara" as "Sada"? I dunno, I'm so East Coast. Sadly, I just didn't see anything that struck me as polished on this show. I saw a lot of bad overhead lighting and cheap kitchen cabinetry and poor interpersonal communication skills. And the unfortunate use of the word "douchebaggy." I try not to judge. But these gals are bragging about how sophisticated they are, and it's hard to not call them out when one of them—domineering Mikey, who wears sunglasses indoors—can't control her emotions at work. "We'll never fucking work with your agency again. Don't ever fucking call my showroom," she says into the phone. Badly done, Mikey. Badly done.

Grace Chu has created a hilarious "The Real L Word Dictionary," which illustrates how miserable things are. Considering everything, one wonders who was the intended audience for this show. Chaiken must have looked at the success (if you can call it that) of The Real Housewives franchise and seen dollar signs, because the show oddly does not seem targeted to a niche audience of lesbians. For example, the producers of the show felt the need to include an explanation of "pants" and "pumps." Get it, ladies? It means "butch" and "femme."

Sapph Gaz Updates!

• Our boi Francesca Schiavone lost in the first round at Wimbledon yesterday. She fell to Russian Vera Dushevina in a grueling 3-hour match. There were high hopes for Schiavone coming off her French Open win a few weeks ago, and she was seeded 5th at Wimbledon. But the transition to grass was too much for her, and the length of the match seemed to take its toll on Schiavone—who turns 30 this week—even though she is considered among the fittest players in women's tennis. "It was a very tough match," she said. "It was different surface, a different feeling to Paris." The defeat is apparently heartbreaking for Mary Carillo in particular, who evidently has a thing for the small hot Italian. Carillo was quoted in Sports Illustrated after Schiavone's win in Paris: "Forza Francesca! So nice to see such emotion, elation. I've always admired Frankie for her fitness—especially those sturdy, highly Italian-looking legs. She walks like the women do in all the mountain villages: quickly, stoutly, resolute. So alive. Boy, I enjoyed that one."
We enjoy you, Mary.

•Over the weekend Tilda Swinton was in the gayest town in America to pick up her award at the 2010 Provincetown International Film Festival.
She told the local press that she was unaware she had won a prize—she thought she was there just to promote her new film I Am Love. She also said she's looking forward to retiring from acting so that she can tend to the chickens on her estate in Scotland. Here she is sampling some of the wicker furniture in Ptown. No word yet if she was spotted at the tea dance.

Al Williamson, 1931-2010

Al Williamson, the comic book artist that worked for nearly every publisher but is best known for his work on Flash Gordon and the Star Wars comic strips, died in upstate New York more than a week ago. The New York Times knew he was worth an obituary. So far, the Associated Press hasn't mentioned his passing. The Times got it right and AP got it wrong.

You can click on the picture above to make it bigger. There are actual artists who read this blog, so I'll let them comment more knowledgeably on Mr. Williamson's work, but I love what the black and white illustrators could do to turn a few lines of cross hatching into shadows and highlights. Just like Flash appears to be, I am transfixed looking at her navel, or more literally, the dozen accurate pen strokes that create the illusion of that sexy little indent.

Best wishes to Al Williamson's friends and family, from a fan.

Suffering under cruel regimes. Not just for foreigners anymore.

At nearly every World Cup, there is at least one match that is a flat out embarrassment, and since the field has been increased to 32 teams, the probability of an awful mismatch has risen to a near certainty.

There are still more matches to play in the round robin tourneys, but the game that looks like it will take this year's Bambi Meets Godzilla award is North Korea getting shellacked 7-0 by Portugal, a squad that played the Ivory Coast to a terrible 0-0 draw in their first match. Way back in 1966, Portugal and North Korea played an exciting 5-3 match in the knockout round, with Portugal finishing on top on goals by the first African football superstar Eusebio, who was born in the Portuguese colony of Mozambique.

Being from Northern California, I can empathize with the poor North Korean fans, as East Bay football fans are tormented by the uglier and older brother of Kim Jong Il, the senile and vicious tyrant Kim Jong Al. Everyone realizes that neither of these despots will ever give up power voluntarily, and those who thirst for freedom and a better life must wait like vultures for the Grim Reaper to sweep these human plagues away.

Sadly, even the escape provided by their inevitable deaths is thwarted, as both seem prepared to have their respective idiot sons take the reigns of power from their cold dead hands.

Oh, bitter fate!

Not this time for Africa.

Brazil is playing Ronaldo free in South Africa. No Ronaldo, no Ronaldinho. In fact, the guy wearing #9 this time around is Luis Fabiano.

A Brazilian striker with a two name nickname. It's a disgrace. How did this impostor do?

Two goals. Both of them astounding. Brazil beats Ivory Coast 3-1.

The only thing is... the second beautiful goal? He touched the ball with his arm. Twice. The ref and assistant ref missed both of them.

Brazil is too good to be given goals for free. But to make up for it, the referee threw out the Brazilian striker Kaká when the game was already decided. He misses the next game as well.

So now, every African team has played twice. Only Ghana has won a game outright, and if they don't get a result against Germany in their third and final game, they could be going home.

This is the first time the huge world contest has been played on the African continent and hopes were high for the African squads to do well, but in general, they have played miserable and uninspired football. Cameroon is already eliminated and Nigeria might as well be. Every game in Group C has been a draw except for the loss Slovenia handed to Algeria.

And to top it off, all the bad play from African squads pales in comparison to the awful officiating from the ref from Mali who took a win away from the United States.



The title of this post is stolen from the title of the official song of these games, Waka Waka (This Time For Africa). Because I am in a pandering mood today, I present the English version of the Shakira video for this song. If there was a Premiere League for booty shaking, and that is not a bad description of pop music today, Shakira would have won at least two Player of the Year awards this decade, and likely a few Golden Butt and Silver Butt trophies as well.

'Cos she's reeeeeeal purdy.

Pandering to an earlier version of myself.

I believe in pandering. Any longtime reader will know this is true. This blog and pandering go together like red beans and rice.

Need proof? My very first post back on April Fools' Day 2007 was a few short sentences accompanying a picture of Indira Varma.

Earlier this week over at the Other Blog, there was a Brave Last Days alert for Anne Francis, star of Forbidden Planet and the portrayer of the title role on the 1960s TV series Honey West. By all rights, I should have had a massive crush on Anne Francis, because she certainly was a honey.


But in those days just before puberty kicked me around like an empty soda can, I already had a massive crush on Diana Rigg. What Indira Varma is to the Matty Boy on the cusp of grumpy old manhood, Diana Rigg was to the Matty Boy on the cusp of regular old manhood. There was not room in my pre-teen brain for another all-encompassing female obsession.

She had such a lovely face, and that little trademark smirk made me crazy. Then there's the British accent. I think Ms. Varma's accent nudges a little trigger that is still left over from my feelings about Diana Rigg back in the day.

And, oh yeah. She had gams. Mighty, mighty fine gams.

I know I wasn't alone. In the 1970s, I read an interview with Miss Rigg saying she considered finding the addresses of the mothers of all her underage fans sending a form letter to the effect of "Do you know what a little pervert your son is?" But we weren't perverts. (Or at least I wasn't. I didn't read the other letters.) We were young men in desperate love. Whether that is better or worse than being a pervert, I will leave it to greater minds than mine to decide.

Anyone else of about my age who also wants to admit his or her uncontrollable obsession with Diana Rigg is welcome to do so in the comments, because as I wrote already, I know I wasn't alone.

It sucks to be the favorite.

A couple of unexpected results have thrown the first round of the 2010 World Cup into a tizzy. The lowly Swiss upset the reigning European champs Spain, 1-0, and the Germans lost to the Serbs by the same score, only after one of their all-time best scorers Miroslav Klose was given a red card for an exceedingly timid foul. To make it even worse and much, much stranger, the Germans missed a penalty kick to tie. Germans miss penalty kicks about as often as the French army wins decisive victories in battle.

The Greeks were expected to be doormats in their group, but they knocked off perennial African qualifiers Nigeria, 2-1. The French getting flat out embarrassed by the Mexicans is not exactly an upset given the current squad, but historically it is a remarkable win.


And then came today's later matches. Slovenia, the smallest country to send a team to South Africa, completely outplayed the United States in the first half of their game, leading 2-0 at the intermission. The U.S. played with urgency in the second half, and after a Landon Donovan laser shot from a very tough angle narrowed the margin to 2-1, Michael Bradley, the coach's son, showed that his selection was not just nepotism as he scored the equalizer in the 81st minute. Slovenia never gave up, and the action was exciting on both ends of the pitch. But then Landon Donovan set up for a free kick outside penalty area. This picture is a shot of the action in the penalty area.

It's not a soccer match. It's a slow dance at a beach party. People aren't grabbing an opponent's jersey in a sly attempt not to be noticed. They are hugging. There's an American foul on the left of the picture. There's a much more blatant Slovenian foul in the middle of the picture, No. 4 in blue being detained by No. 18 in white. See No. 19 in blue, the guy nobody wants to hug? He caught up to the ball from an onside position and put it in the back of the net. The referee called a foul on the Americans. It should have been the game winner, but instead the game ended in a 2-2 tie.

The referee was from Mali. The kindest words I have seen written about him are "idiot" and "incompetent".

Both the U.S. and Slovenia came to play, which is much more than can be said for the listless English, who never really threatened to score in a dull 0-0 draw against the massive underdogs Algeria. This gives Slovenia the best chance to win the group, but nothing is set in stone yet.

Tomorrow, you would think the Dutch would be favored against the Japanese, and given the bad play by most African squads, The Danes should beat the Indomitable Lions of Cameroon, but there is so much bad juju running around South Africa this week, it's close to crazy to put a dollar on the result of a match until further notice.

The motto for the TV spots is "One game changes everything".

One game ruins everything is more like it.

Well, that was good timing

Since I had already tipped my hand regarding what this post would be about, Michael Bradley certainly helped make it a little more newsworthy with his late equalizer in the U.S. men's World Cup match against Slovenia. Bradley played much more positively than against England, probably because that's what his Dad asked him to do. His Dad, of course also happens to be the U.S. coach, Bob Bradley. And that's where it gets interesting, at least from my perspective as both a coach who has coached his children and as an employment lawyer.

Many employers have anti-nepotism policies that forbid, or at least limit, the hiring of relatives and significant others. The reason is understandable -- prohibiting the co-employment of spouses or children of supervising spouses or parents certainly avoids potential claims of favoritism. Having hard and fast rules prohibiting nepotism in the workplace avoids having to justify decisions regarding relatives of management employees, either to other employees or, worse, in court.

If U.S. Soccer had an anti-nepotism policy, however, the team would likely not be as good as it is (and how good it is can be argued as well). Michael Bradley earned his first cap for the men's national team in 2006; a few months later, after a disappointing showing in Germany, his father was named the interim coach, and later confirmed as the permanent choice. Although Michael was "there first" in terms of tenure on the team, under most anti-nepotism policies he would have to leave the team once his dad became the coach.

While some may assert that Bob Bradley's value to the team is questionable, very few doubt that Michael has become an essential member of the squad, doing the grinding work required of defensive center midfielders in today's game. His goal Wednesday was sparkling, but the work he does in front of the defense or in back of the offense, depending on what is needed at the time, is the stuff that goes largely unnoticed.

Employers with hard and fast anti-nepotism policies may end up like the National Team would be without Michael Bradley -- losing out on essential team members and potential stars merely because of familial relationships. Those that are willing to acknowledge both the value that relatives can add to a business -- in terms of talent and investment in the success of the business, however, by allowing the hiring of relatives may be better off in the long run.

Michael Bradley's teammates clearly think so. Landon Donovan was recently quoted as saying that Michael was a crucial cog in the team. Through communication and, most importantly, hard work, relatives can convince co-workers that nepotism, on the field or at work, can be a positive dynamic.

Random 10, 6/18/10

Night Rally Elvis Costello & the Attractions
Dinah Fats Waller
River Deep, Mountain High Anne Lennox
The Homeland Song The Mysterious Voices of Bulgaria
Christmas Must Be Tonight The Band
Living Hell Spanic Boys
You Belong to Me Vonda Shepard
A Town Called Malice The Jam
I Have Not Been To Oxford Town David Bowie
It's My Fault, Darling Professor Longhair

Everything here is from last century, but I will still defend it. Some mighty fine tunes here. Okay, the Vonda Shepard is a little corny and a cover version, but Anne Lennox also does a cover version, and it takes some fortitude to cover Tina Turner, but she does a bang up job. I was close to invoking the Padre Mickey rule when The Jam show up with one of their tip-top A-#1 tunes, but I'm also fond of the songs by Bowie and Fess that complete the ten.

Whatchoo listening to?

What to do about La Roux

The hottest redhead out of the UK since Tilda Swinton is La Roux's frontman, Elly Jackson. For those of us who were propelled through high school listening to the "electronic music!" of the 80s, her sound is just what we need right now. The music—In for the Kill and Bulletproof—reminds me of Yaz, which, like La Roux, was a synthpop British duo led by a diva whose hair defied gravity.

But Elly Jackson—whose full name is Eleanor KATE JACKSON (coincidence?)—is a a diva of the millennial generation, which means she is all about being queer in a non-committal manner. Those millennials are all very relaxed about things. But to many of us (especially Gen-Xers, who are always anxiously trying to figure out what the hell is going on), Elly Jackson looks like an adorable little dyke. I mean, do straight women wear their pants like that? No, they don't. And just listen to her talk about her hair. The gaydar gauges are spinning. But she apparently "refuses to clarify her sexual orientation," according to a gossip website. That is my favorite new phrase: "refuses to clarify her sexual orientation."

While perhaps not offering distinct classification, Elly Jackson does seem quite willing to speak about her sexuality in general, and it sounds pretty queer to me: "I don't have a sexuality. I don't feel like I'm female or male," she says. "I don't belong to the gay or straight society, if there is such a thing. I feel like I'm capable of falling in love with other people. I'm not saying I'm bisexual, I'm just sexual!"

Okay, young lady. Whatever you like.

But then she offers this insight, which makes us want to invite her over to dinner and explain a few things: "Of course, I can appreciate other women. Beyonce is beautiful. I find men or women sexy. The Mexican actor Gael Garcia Bernal is hot and I've always fancied James Dean - but, weirdly, I want to look like the people I fancy."

Which brings me to my other new favorite phrase: "I want to look like the people I fancy."

Quesadillas y cervezas y fútbol... y las chicas!

Last week, the question was who would be the first North American squad to win a game at World Cup 2010. Today at lunchtime on the West Coast, we got the answer. México whipped the very sad French squad 2-0 on a breakaway goal by Manchester United striker Javier Hernandez that barely missed being called offside by the assistant referee and then a well-deserved penalty that was easily put away by the indescribably old Cuauhtémoc Blanco. Technically, he is 37, which I suppose counts as a description if you want to get all mathematical about it, but you know what I mean. A very good player for a very long time, Blanco has played the lion's share of his career in México, and this makes him even more beloved in his homeland than his considerable talents merit.



So I got to see a great Mexican effort at La Estrellita, a terrific Mexican restaurant and bar. How does life get better? Las chicas, naturalmente! Three young ladies working for Budweiser came into the bar in the second half and started giving away free stuff to anyone who bought an Anheuser Busch beverage. (Not the three pictured above, but you get the idea.) I had been drinking Sam Adams for much of the game, but when there's free stuff to be had, it's remarkable how flexible my beer snobbery can be. I got a hat and some beads and a vuvuzela, one of those noisemaker horns. I gave the hat to the busboy, since he didn't get to drink and was missing out on the fun, having to work during the game.

Knowledgeable fans might gasp that I accepted the vuvuzela, a noisemaker horn being compared by some to a Satanic device. Let me set your mind at ease. One vuvuzela is like a cute little cricket. Many, many vuvzelas is like a swarm of locusts. I promise to use my new toy only for good and not for evil.

¡Viva México! Tomorrow, I root at breakfast time for my home country as well as my home continent, hoping the United States can find a way past Slovenia even with a battered Tim Howard (multiple broken ribs) minding the net.

Is math education important?

You know my answer. Yes.

Or Hellz Yeah, as we say in Oakland.

News stories often complain about how badly our students are doing in math. Screw that. Give math tests to news reporters. Let's see if they can find their asses with both hands.

The story of how much oil is leaking per day has "evolved" from 200 barrels a day when the oil rig crashed into the sea, about as much oil as is in a tanker truck you might see on the freeway, to over 60,000 barrels, three hundred times more than the first estimate. You can see on this chart that the next day, they multiplied the original estimate by five and four days later, another fivefold increase.

The math of the situation isn't that hard. How big is the hole and how high is the pressure? Under the first estimate, this would be about 12.4 ounces (368 mL) leaking every second. That's a tiny trickle. My kitchen sink faucet takes less than two seconds to fill a twelve ounce glass, my bathtub faucet can easily fill it in one second. Even at the beginning, they had to assume the hole was bigger and the pressure much higher.

It took me a few minutes to find the necessary numbers online and to do the experiments of filling the glass from my various household spigots.

The problem is that no reporter thought to do this experiment and no editor forced the writers to do a better job.

It's common to complain about the job the schools are doing, but lifelong learning is the job of every citizen of a democracy. We have a society where it is a horrible sin to be fat, but completely acceptable to be mentally flabby, and this mental flabbiness lets people like the BP spokesmen tell ridiculous and easily refuted lies unchallenged.

Let me end on a positive note. I nicked the chart from Talking Points Memo, and they did a good job creating it. The small black circle in the middle of the target has about 1/300 the area of the largest diameter circle, so if you compare areas of the different size circles, you get an idea of the differences in scale.

The definition of "we", as in "We are the problem."

I speak a few languages poorly, Italian, French and Spanish, but as far as I know, there is no language in the world that addresses the problem of the definition of first person plural. There are three simple cases of the idea, and then some sub-cases known as "the royal we" and "the editorial we". Here are the main cases.

First person plural inclusive: Here, "we" means the speaker and everyone listening to the speaker. If the speaker tells the assembled loved ones "We are going to Italy on vacation", this means everyone listening is going to Italy. Yay, Italy!

First person plural exclusive: If the speaker is at work and says "We are going to Italy on vacation", someone might be able to understand from prior context it is the speaker and some other people, none of whom are the listeners, that are going to Italy.

First person plural mixed: If the speaker and the speaker's partner are with friends and one of them says the sentence "We are going to Italy on vacation", now the audience for this sentence includes people that are part of the "we" and people who are not.

It would be nice if their were separate pronouns for each of these cases. For the rest of this post, I will use the word "we" with the assumption that it means "Everyone reading this and I".

We are the problem. There are many serious problems in the world today and we all bear some responsibility for them.

We always think someone else is a bigger part of the problem. This is probably true, but it doesn't change the fact that we are the problem as well. So many times when someone does a bad thing, people who feel they have a partisan stake in someone else's personal screw-up will say, "Well, what about xxx? Didn't he (or she) behave just as badly? I see no need for my partisan to make amends until xxx has done the same!"

This is the way seven year olds act, and not the nice ones. We all need to grow up.

We are addicted to negativity. Last year, I wrote a post entitled And this is how we died. After that post, I stopped writing for a while, largely out of a feeling of hopelessness, but also out of wounded vanity at the worry that the blog wasn't getting any increase in readership. I came back to blogging when I realized that my mom missed it. She was living about a hundred miles away and neither of us had transportation to get together often, so this was her way of keeping in touch. I was selfish and feeling sorry for myself, and it meant that for about a week and a half of the last three months of her life, she didn't know how her baby boy was doing.

I try to keep negative posts to a minimum, but I find myself still writing them and reading them when others write them. Josh Marshall at Talking Points Memo is weaning himself from Sarah Palin hatred, but when he posts something, I always read it. Tengrain over at Mock, Paper, Scissors has an army of writers he mocks regularly (Meghan McCain, Peggy Noonan, David Brooks, etc.) and I read his posts. Likewise Karen Zipdrive and DistributorCap. Even my personal blog hero Peteykins over at Princess Sparkle Pony takes the Big Ugly Stick out on Washington Post columnist Richard Cohen on a semi-regular basis, though he trimmed back on these posts a lot this year compared to last.

I listened to Obama's speech last night. It wasn't a barn-burner, but I didn't come away enraged. Obviously, reading left-wing blogs, I just don't have enough rage in me. A passel of people on the left are pissed as hell that the laws of physics can't be repealed. But reading their outrage, you would have thought he introduced Kang and Kodos as our new alien overlords.

Reading this post, you may feel that you are not addicted to negativity. You may be correct and blessings upon you if you are. I'm trying to cut back, but I know the rage or the resignation from feeling the futility of the rage are never far away.

We are addicted to cheap energy. You are reading this on a computer somewhere. This is definitely a first person plural inclusive statement.

Three Mile Island effectively killed the nuclear industry in the United States. It was scary, but it was not a long term environmental disaster. Chernobyl was a long-term nightmare, but if I may be allowed a little American exceptionalism, on average we aren't as incompetent as a bunch of sullen, drunken Soviet assholes. The BP oil gusher is a long term ecological nightmare, and I will be very surprised if the American public will be able to add two and two to figure out that if we didn't guzzle gas so much, companies wouldn't take such horrible risks to get it to us.

We need energy to run the world we live in. I'm willing to make cutbacks in my lifestyle, but I'm not going back to the 19th Century, thanks very much. Electric cars would take a huge chunk out of the stranglehold the petroleum industry now has on our economy, but it means we need more electric plants. Thorium based reactors could be a clean and safe part of the mix, if people can get over the fear of the word "nuclear".

We are addicted to distraction. I know I am. I run that silly other blog, for pity's sake. But whether it's gossip or sports or TV or movies or political sideshows like Sarah Palin, we are not staying focused on the real problems that face us, and we mistake big dramatic events for real problems.

I know some people will take exception, but 9/11 was a distraction. We don't want a repeat of 9/11 obviously, but do we have to put ourselves in the poorhouse to defend ourselves from this band of clowns who can't shoot straight? We lost 3,000 people in a single day in a truly made for television event, but it just was one bad day, and we treat it like it's World War II or the worldwide flu epidemic of 1918. Heart disease and cancer combined kill 3,000 Americans every day like clockwork. 28,000 babies less than one year old die in the United States every year, and if we cared to compete with countries like Japan or Singapore for the quality of care we give newborns, we could cut that in half or even better.

We need to make changes. We need to work on convincing people that they need to change, too. It's hard when there are people who think any change means labor camps and rounding up white people, but things do change in this country. Look back at things that people thought were here to stay, and see how they went away eventually.

We can do this. It won't be easy and it will require serious intent. But it is a matter of life or death, so we don't have any real option.

NBA reaches out to lesbians

We have the WNBA, and now we have the LNBA. The LNBA is sorta like the LPGA, in that the L word is significant. While the WNBA is all about promoting the few but prominent hetero-married-with-children players, the LNBA will finally admit that the league, and the fan base, is crawling with dykes.

Okay, so there's not really a new league called the LNBA. But there is a new logo that the NBA evidently has introduced for the lesbian fans of professional basketball. The logo features the unmistakable silhouette of a young lesbian—specifically, a modern day baby dyke . Note the asymmetrical hair, the unfeminine hands, the boyish hips, the square shoulders set askew as if she's about to strike a buffalo stance a la Neneh Cherry.

The NBA must know it has a gazillion lesbian fans if anyone has taken a look in the stands lately.

We live for moments of Brazilliance.

After a very timid 0-0 draw between Portugal and Ivory Coast followed by a scoreless first half between Brazil and North Korea, I was starting to think the soccer haters had a point. But the scoring drought was ended by the wonderful Brazilian playmaker Maicon, and Brazil went on to win 2-1 in a very hard fought battle. Here's the goal.



Some English commentators thought he really didn't even try to do that, acting like the goal was a lucky fluke. If an Englishman hit it, it would be a fluke. But Maicon is Brazilian, he did exactly what he meant to do. When you watch Brazil play, there is a very good chance you will see something you have never seen in your life, but that wasn't the case today. Check out the third goal featuring Bebeto and Romario back in World Cup 1994. I was in the crowd in Palo Alto for this one. Pretty much the same angle, just no goalkeeper to beat.



I saw my friend sfmike when I went over to watch England-U.S.A. this weekend, and when I said I was rooting for Brazil, he said it was like rooting for the Yankees. Nothing could be further from the truth. Rooting for Brazil is like rooting for Maria Callas or Sviatoslav Richter. Rooting for Brazil is like rooting for hummingbirds. It's the amazing moments of beauty that make the victories so sweet and the losses so bittersweet.

As for Ivory Coast and Portugal, they better not sleep walk like they did today when they face the North Koreans. These guys are serious.

If you are a football fan, this one month every four years is such a great time.

A concise review of the Season 3 finale of Breaking Bad

Damn.

The genderless Roni Horn

The Roni Horn retrospective (Roni Horn aka Roni Horn) closed today at the ICA Boston after traveling from the Tate Modern and the Whitney. It was a beautiful and provocative show. And it was obvious from my very first glimpse of the artist—appearing in the lobby in a series of paired portraits at different ages—that Roni Horn is a lesbian. But it's not clear she wants you to know that.

When I asked about the portraits, a nice twenty-something docent (she seemed more informed than your typical gallery guard) told me that many people, upon viewing the pictures, express confusion about whether Roni Horn is a man or a woman. Some straight people apparently cannot see beyond the heterocentrist binary. The docent said she did not know whether Horn identifies as "gender queer" (I love these young people!), but she did say that Horn is interested in exploring identity, including her own. I've read that Horn describes herself as "private" and does not like to talk specifically about her sexuality. Conversely, I've also read that she is gay and out. Clearly, I'm in no position to confirm either way. But I can tell you that I bristle whenever lesbians who are otherwise public figures refuse to even name their sexuality because they claim they are "private" persons. Posing for a magazine photo with your chest bared disqualifies you as a private person, in my opinion. (The photo above appeared in W magazine in 2009.) Otherwise, I am in full support of Roni Horn choosing to look like Uncle Sheldon at the family Fourth of July party.

I felt the same frustration with Susan Sontag, may she rest in peace, who repeatedly refused to publicly recognize the nature of her relationship with her lover, Annie Liebovitz. Sontag permitted Leibovitz to publish photos of her wrenching chemo experience, among other supremely private events. Yet Sontag and Horn retreat to the "privacy" excuse when it comes to discussing their lesbianism. Is it possible that the threat of homophobia is so great that even the most brave souls among us—in which category Sontag and Horn belong—quake at the prospect of being out?

I will give Horn the benefit of the doubt on this one. Her artistic message may require some ambiguity. She explained in one interview that she did not want to reveal the nature of her relationship with Margrét—the dripping, attentive Icelandic subject of You Are the Weather—because it would detract from the viewers' experience. The piece consists of 100 images of Margrét shoulder-deep in water, and in all of them she is staring at you. "You will never know what her relationship to me is," Horn said. "You may have a lot of perhaps erotic speculations about it, but that's part of the work. There is definitely an option to read the piece that way."

Be sure to fill in the pool results.

Who did you put down as the first European team to win a game in this World Cup? The correct answer is Slovenia.
Did you put down France or England or Greece?
Tee hee. You don't know much about football, do you?


How about the first Asian team to win a game?
Did you write down that no Asian team would win a game in this World Cup?
Oh, ye of little faith.
The correct answer is South Korea.

First African squad to win a game?
The correct answer is Ghana.
With ten men on the field.
On a penalty kick given away because of a ridiculously bad hand ball by Serbia.
(Extra points if you got all the details.)

First South American team to win a game?
The correct answer is Argentina.
Frankly, this one wasn't all that tough, unless you thought Uruguay would beat France or the Nigerians would hold the Argentines to a draw.


First North American squad to notch three points?
We are still waiting for that. Mexico had their chance, as did the United States. Next in line is Honduras against Chile in the wee small hours on Wednesday. Personally, I like Mexico's chances against France on Thursday.

The tournament is not yet three days old, and the wacky is already happening.

Happy Birthday to my big brother.

Happy birthday to my older brother Michael. I'm going up to the party at his place in the wine country. It's really hot today for Northern California (about 90 degrees F. in Oakland), so I hope there's a nice place to sit in the shade. I'm bringing the cool non-alcoholic drinks, which are a very good idea when trying to keep hydrated. I only hope I've brought enough.

Love ya, bro, and many happy returns.

U.S. v. England Player and Coach Ratings and Observations

Well, let's see. I did pretty well in naming the players who I thought were superior to the other side's (Gerrard, Rooney, Terry -- who I semi-hedged on but shouldn't have -- and Tim Howard). Gerrard was terrific throughout, Rooney came into the game late (and set up England's goal early). And John Terry -- I guess with all the hubbub about his less-than-admirable personal life (think Ben Roethlisberger without the bodyguard pimps) I'd forgotten how good he is. Howard's superiority to Green (but it could have just as easily been James) was obviously what earned the U.S. the tie. England did have better players, but Green's gaff yielded what I thought was a fair draw.

My player ratings (only for those players I care to rate -- scale of 1-10):

England

GK - Green 2. In addition to the obvious, his distribution of the ball was poor.

CD - Terry 7. Has amazing touch and vision for a central defender when he gets forward.

CD - Carragher 3. Was shockingly slow and lucky to not be sent off with a second yellow when he dragged Findley down with about 20 minutes left. If England have to play him the rest of the way, it's hard to see how they make the semi-finals, let alone hoist the Cup.

RB - Johnson 7. He often looked like the best player on the pitch, at least in part because Dempsey didn't deal with him very well.

CM - Gerrard 6. Nice move on the goal, took to the job of captain well.

F - Rooney 5. Pulled the USA's central defense apart when he would track back for the ball and looked likely to score sometime in the last 15 minutes. But disappeared for long portions of the game, especially in the first half.

USA

GK - Howard 7. Anything he touched was smothered, with only one exception that I can think of when he parried Lampard's shot over the bar.

RB - Cherundolo 7. Howard won Man of the Match, but my vote would have been for Cherundolo. Absolutely tortured Milner and Wright-Phillips going forward, made several crucial pokes and clearances. Outstanding.

CD - Onyewu 5. Was neither fish nor foul on Gerrard's goal as he half-heartedly followed Rooney out of the area but really didn't stay with him or take a position to help Clark mark Gerrard. Other than that he was strong and essential.

CM - M. Bradley 4. I'm not a Bradley hater, but I don't think he played particularly well. Was often in the right place at the right time, but maybe a pass or two to the guys with the Blue shirts would have been helpful.

LW - Dempsey 4. Scored the luckiest big goal he will ever have, but it got to the point where Bradley had to switch Donovan to the left to try to deal with Johnson's raids from the back.

F - Altidore 4. One great run, worked hard, but didn't often threaten.

Coaches

Capello 5. Hard to blame him for starting Green -- James isn't nicknamed "Calamity" for nothing and he's seen both in practice for three weeks now. Hands were tied when it came to substitutions because of the departures of Milner and King.

B. Bradley 4. Bold move to start Findley, who did what everyone expected -- stretched the England defense but never looked likely to score. Still, I was yelling at the t.v. from 70 minutes on for BB to sub him out, which he finally did seven minutes later. Thought the last two substitutions were very curious as he brought in two more offensive players in Buddle and Gomez (well, Gomez didn't actually make it in before the match ended, but the intent was there). I thought Edu for Clark or Bradley would have been a more useful substitution sometime in the last 15 minutes.