A commenter in the last post said: "Sounds like you just had some sweet makeup sex with Landon Donavan."
How quickly disappointment can turn into triumph. Golllllly.
You can imagine what happened, because it may have happened to you: I was at the bar, felt awful, felt frustrated, Landon scored, went crazy, hugged strangers, jumped, yelled, chanted "U-S-A," and felt giddy.
That's what World Cup soccer is all about. It immediately became the greatest soccer moment of my life. It even trumps US over Mexico in 2002. Easily, actually. The bastard Algerians decided it would be smart to play for a tie, since they knew we'd score ten goals on them if they ever attacked. We still created a ton of solid chances, but bad luck and another referee screw-up...
We interrupt this rant for a bit of emphasis:
THE REFEREES SCREWED US AGAIN!
What the hell is going on here? Is it time to start talking about an anti-American conspiracy? Why does every call go against us, especially ones where we score legal goals?
...kept us off the scoreboard for 91 horrible minutes. And then it happened. Landon motherfucking Donavan, the face of US soccer and our greatest nation player ever.
It couldn't be anyone else. It just couldn't.
Fly your colors high, boys. We won the group. We're on to the knockout stages. Bring on the Krauts, bring on the Ghanians, bring on the Serbs, bring on the Aussies. Doesn't matter. This was spectacular. Donavan scores, and we won't forget it.
I'M JUST MAD ABOUT LANDO