You know it’s been a bit of an odd World Cup when the Belgians start ambushing people. Of course, having no experience at such things, they only managed to screw it up.
The soccer team tried it and quite awfully. Despite subbing in a massage therapist, someone’s cousin and the guy who drives the team bus, Belgium still couldn’t figure out how to lose to England. It’s easy, dummies – don’t kick the ball at the net.
Maybe this was an unplanned outburst of sportsmanship. If so, there’s no excuse for that sort of thing at this level.
I hope Belgium’s players are enjoying their moral superiority now. That feeling of righteousness will be the only thing that warms them after they’re turned over Brazil’s big collective knee in the quarter-finals.
Belgium’s Prime Minister, Charles Michel, also tried to get clever. He handed British PM Theresa May a Belgium jersey before Brexit negotiations on Friday. May picked it up. Pictures were taken. Everyone was delighted at her foolishness.
But – and imagine me suddenly talking quite loud right at you – was it? WAS IT?
In the end, Belgium (i.e. England) wins, Theresa May looks cunning and Charles Michel appears very Belgian.
Apparently, that was the gamesmanship portion of the tournament. (And if “I fooled you, silly!” is the level of diplomatic ambition we’re working at here, I’m beginning to suspect Brexit might not go well.)
On Saturday, we begin the actual World Cup. This is the one we should have had all along, but FIFA loused up for the sake of adding a zero to its revenue projections. Sixteen teams in a knockout format is so optimal that even the NHL finally got there.
Perhaps you don’t have a team any more and would like a new, better one? Or maybe you still have a team but the same principle applies? Or you’ve waited this long to pick? I applaud your caution (and will remember never to turn my back on you).
Here’s some bandwagon-jumping guidance from among those teams remaining (and England):
Portugal: Are you familiar with Snow White? This is a little like that – one unusually talented and attractive person surrounded by a bunch of much smaller people who should work in the mining industry. And not the skilled, engineering part. The swinging a pickaxe part. If you are a fan of underdog tales (plus one egomaniacal overdog) Portugal may be right for you.
France: France has looked quite friendly so far – thumbs up across the field, dog piles after goals, that awkward half-hug, half-high-five guys do as they’re being subbed off. Don’t be charmed. At some point, the French will face real adversity. That’s when the sit-ins, shock resignations and locker-room tantrums begin. If you like relationships that run hot – Gallicly hot – France is your ticket.
Argentina: After putting in the shift of his life during the Nigeria game, the star of the Argentine contingent was carried off the field of play and received medical assistance for exhaustion. I’m not sure Diego Maradona can keep this legendary pace up for two more weeks, but if he is willing to try, then shouldn’t we be willing to watch?
Russia: Russia got what it wanted here. The tournament is tremendous. No stadiums have collapsed. Even the soccer team turned out okay (until it ran into a roster that wasn’t top-to-bottom part-timers and plumbers, when the Russians suddenly were not okay). The hosts should take their money off the table, and so should you.
Spain: Are you a contrarian’s contrarian? Are you the sort of person who says things like, “Isn’t Isco a sort of young Xavi, but with better physical tools?” or “Is Sergio Ramos less a Vinnie Jones-type villain than a Paul Gascoigne-style anti-hero?” or “Do all my statements come in the form of questions?” If you want to be the real clever boots in the group, picking Spain when its stock is trending near a decade low might be your sort of thing.
Denmark: I suppose you could, but why? Even Danes are iffy on this team. (Also, see under: Mexico, Japan, Uruguay, Colombia and Switzerland.)
Croatia: No smarmy comments here. This would be a good choice – not too obvious, but also not too risky. You know, you’ve really grown these past two weeks. Not just as the shiftless soccer junkie who turns your computer screen toward the window to watch Morocco-Iran at your desk, but as a person, too. Also, your boss knows. Everyone in the office knows.
Brazil: We’re going to need to see some papers here. If you are not actually Brazilian, or married to a Brazilian, or speak Brazilian (that was a trick), you cannot at this late point jump on the Brazil bandwagon. That’s too obvious. Choose someone else. If that makes you feel bad, think about how many people look good in canary yellow. The answer is “outside of Brazilians, none.”
Sweden: Have you ever imagined what it would be like to play at a World Cup? Watch Sweden. That’s you playing at a World Cup, only blonder.
Belgium: The Belgians are good, but the sort of good that never really adds up to anything. Just a bunch of guys being good and getting in each other’s way as they do it. Also, they are boring. How do they make scoring goals so boring? It’s a gift. A horrible, horrible gift. But it’s your life, I suppose (Camus would have something to say about that). Ask yourself this: Am I the sort of person who worries about the number and quality of airbags when purchasing an automobile? Then maybe you are a Belgium type.
England: It was the hype that got you interested, but it’s the schadenfreude that keeps you coming back. It really is the best schadenfreude anywhere. Piquant, with just a subtle hint of end-of-empire hysteria.
Germany: Germany should not be on this list. It has already been eliminated from the World Cup. Most of these guys are drunk in a ditch in Ibiza right now. Were you not watching? Hello? … Yeah, well, fine. You’re probably right. Germany is still going to win this thing.
Cathal Kelly