Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Converted A Penalty

No hope, no harm, just another false alarm.
Last night I felt the semi-finals around me.
No hope, no harm, just another false alarm.
So tell me how long, before the next one?
And tell me how long, before the right one?
This story is old, I know, but it goes on.
And on.

With apologies to Mr S Morrisey, another ignominious loss to Portugal on penalties at the quarter-final stage is not exactly what The Referee had predicted (see my message of 15 June). Nevertheless, that prediction was based on empirical scientific evidence, and you can't say fairer than that. Needless to say, I will be going back to the proverbial drawing-board to check my calculations.

In the meantime, a thought: if we lose to Portugal on penalties in the quarter-finals for a third time, do we get to keep the wooden spoon?

Whilst you're pondering that, I am pleased to report that US interest in the World Cup of Association Football, at least in the NY area, appears not to have been dented in the slightest by Team USA's early exit, which was hastened considerably by the penalty kick awarded to Ghana on the basis that the USA's new promising central defender, Oguchi "Gooch" Onyewu, was apparently guilty of being tall and well-built in the penalty area.

On the contrary, most locals that I speak to about such things appear to have been "rooting", as they like to say here, for other teams as well as their own. I have been pleasantly surprised to note that England has often been the favoured choice of second team (and sometimes first team), particularly since we are "celebrating" independence this week.

In case you are finding that concept difficult to grasp, I can tell you that, over the weekend, not one, not two, but around half a dozen of our American friends and neighbo(u)rs sought me out in order to say variously that they were (i) sorry that England had been eliminated, or (ii) disgruntled with penalty shoot-outs (or should that be "shoots-out"?) in general terms, or (iii) not particularly enamoured with the sort of sportsmanship that involves running halfway across the pitch in order to point out to the referee (rather than The Referee) that an opponent really might appreciate a brief glimpse of the redder of his two cards.

In defence of our Portuguese friends, and in a spirit of fairness, I felt obliged to explain that, in "soccer", it is not generally considered appropriate to stamp on the delicate parts of one's opponents, whilst accepting that in "football" it is considered almost essential.

Having agreed on that balanced approach to things, my American friends have largely been content to return to more important matters, such as following the Mets v Yankees weekend series, or organising the 4 July fireworks.

How long, indeed.