Unlike the other fifteen percent of the world, I was working while the United States soccer team took an enormous shit on Spain. Once I got home I watched a replay of the game while pondering the absurdity of the Spanish players’ haircuts. When the final whistle blew, I smiled because I knew that the little Spanish boys that they showed in the stands before the game were crying. I then brushed my teeth and went to bed.
While asleep I dreamed that I was at the USA v. Spain soccer match drinking beers in the stands with Alexi Lalas and John Harkes. They were nice guys, but they wouldn’t stop talking about how in 1994 they played in the World Cup and defeated Columbia when the odds were against them. I kept trying to tell them that was 15 years ago, and to give it up, but they continued to reminisce like a couple of former jocks at a high school reunion.
At the 27th minute when Jozy Altidore scored the American’s first goal. Alexi turned to John and said, “Claudio Reyna would have made that look a lot better.” John agreed and they continued to play grab ass while I celebrated. 47 minutes and 3 beers later Clint Dempsey put a ball in the net for the USA to make it 2-0. At that moment Alexi and John looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Total trash!”
The score remained 2-0 and the Americans defeated the #1 ranked Spaniards, advancing to the Confederations Cup final match. On the way out of the Stadium Alexi and John kept coming up with reasons why Spain should have won while I soaked up the joy of patriotic victory. While walking through a crowd of people, we noticed a crying boy wearing a Spanish soccer jersey. I asked him what was wrong, and he explained that futbol is his life and that he’s so upset he feels like he could die. John Harkes took the boy’s hand, stared into his watery eyes and said, “How do you think Alexi felt when he thought he had HIV for a month after fucking that Italian stripper without a rubber?”
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