11 July 2010


"So here it is!"
- Cleopatra VII Philopator, last Egyptian pharaoh

This is what it all crumbles down to: all the hoping, wishing and praying since 11 June. South Africa has held our rapt attention for a month. Vuvuzelas across the globe sounded with each goal. Expletives yelled with each errant ball. One fútbol sovereignty united with a single thought: the Champion of the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

Both teams have doggedly eliminated 30 other Cup hopefuls. This is what four years of training, practices, sacrifices, and matches whittles down to: one match determines the ultimate honor in The Beautiful Game.

Each team has shared their triumphs and downfalls past years and it all depends on how well they can bend a ball and block strikers at 2030 SAST.

Neither team has captured a title. España is the top ranked team by FIFA. Holland is undefeated every World Cup match they played. So good of Germany to secure third place, assuring that Europe is the top continent this time around. There has been little talk in the domicile except for the merits of penalty shootouts and when to call off extra time. Or blind referees, but near-sighted men with a perchance for striped polo shirts and a fondness for whistles and different colored cards have to find their niche somewhere.

I am sorry to say that we ran out of chimichangas, but have found new love in chicken stir-fry with brown rice. Which is a bit more difficult then pressing a few buttons and drowning food with peanut sauce, but if one prepares a batch with five times the normal servings there is a new invention the kids are using these days called Tupperware which keeps the food in individual containers that are easy to pop into the microwave and press a few buttons. Then dousing with peanut sauce.

At this point I have entered a Zen-like tranquillity. An epic match is only two and a half hours ahead. I like to think that Villa, Xavi, Valdés and Sneijder are accompanying my descent into the Calm Before The Storm.

After it is ironed, I will be donning this shirt in honor of the champions:

Of course this hombre has a backup plan, courtesy of my foray into the wonderful capital of the opposition:

I have charged my iPhone to make sure it does not fail me during the game, checked on how many Tupperware containers are left, sliced some Amish Friendship Bread, polished the rosaries, Tweeted, refilled the cooler, and set five alarms in case I pass out from excitement and/or exhaustion. Yes, I do understand there exists a fine line between fan and fanatical. On a scale of one to Tom Cruise-on-Oprah, well, I hope the couches are not made of particle wood support.

Next post will either be a 'Sí hicimos' or a huge frown face emoticon.

And so I leave you with this jpg I lovely and painstakingly constructed with Paint:

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