I read a blog headline urging me on to read about who will possibly be THE goal-keeper of the tournament. I don't even know half these players names. I will not even be able to watch most of the group stage matches. There's France and Italy, right? I listened to the Guardian Euro 2008 Preview Podcast Special which left me confused and fearful. Beware Poland. Mighty Poland.
Of course, one can keep out of all this if they like, right? That's the luxury of living in North America. That and our abundant freshwater and wide roads and relatively cheap gasoline. I don't have my driver's license yet but you get how this all works. I mean, if I want, I could watch baseball for the next month and then stumble in on the final on June 29th, amazed to see Romania in a penalty kick thriller against an eight-man Austria (two red cards and a death because of a melee at the seventy-second minute). My eyes would well up from the regret of it all. Not a soul would have blabbed the results, even if they'd happen to glance at them over the course of a twentieth of a second as they passed the backside of a weekday sports section hanging out of recycling bin. In Toronto, our biggest newspaper sends out the TV guy to cover major international tournaments. A real cosmopolitan city.
But watch I will. Internationals. The colours. So many colours. I listened to a radio show that said that in almost every country in the world, blue-coloured sleeping pills are the most effective, except with Italian men. Scientists theorized it had to do with the Azzuri. One could imagine the nightmares, having to live through Italy's first missed penalty against Germany in 1982. An old timer at Clinton and College told me he saw a man stretchered out of the bar from the stress of it all. Then the humiliation of 1990. And 2000, and the insane euphoria of a lack-lustre defensive final after cheating out Australia in Germany...I wouldn't sleep well at night either.
That said I will be supporting Holland. No one likes the Dutch much, such a cold team with Van Basten scaring everyone home with all of his...rules. And Dirk Kuyt. Every time I see him, I think of Wolf Parade: "You are a runner." But not a scorer of goals, along with his Dutch brethren it would seem. And their defense is a mite shit as well we've been told. But apparently they will put five up in an attempt to score, and I bet you won't see the Russians doing that anytime soon.
At the end of the day, it's all about which European country is superior. Always a captivating formula for success. Won't you join me?
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