24 Days "Til Serie A Season Opener

...but my suffering has temporarily abated because we now have THE PRE-SEASON including Bianconeri in the Peace Cup (they've advanced to the semifinals!) Aaaaaand the FIGC has posted the 2009-2010 fixture list, so I can start planning. First up, Flying Donkeys, who beat the zebras last time behind a hat trick by Serge Pelissier. I spose we'll have to go to the wine shop soon. We have plenty of cheap yummy red, and plenty of fancy red, and a few fancy whites, but not nearly enough cheap Soaves, and not nearly enough mid-range bottles of anything.

I know I said I was ignoring transfer rumors, but this is no longer a rumor. The Big Swede has left Italia to return no more.

And just when he'd gotten his hair squared away, too. Well, it's official. He has gone to Barcelona, which is already a stacked side and which doesn't really need him. Olof is gone too, to Greece, or something. Zlatan clearly did not consider Dirtbunny's feelings when he made this decision, so as punishment, he's going to have to scrub down the showers in the dressing room after training and after matches until further notice. And if he doesn't do a good job, he gets to be the towel boy too. The only good news is that American broadcasters are passionately in love with Barca and broadcast everyone of their games, so I'll be able to get my Zlatan fix every week. And it's not like I ever could like Inter anyway.

I know it's not Lunedi, but we haven't seen Loooca in a while. Here he is, thinking hard (plz note the tongue) while preparing to be utterly ineffectual in the Azzurri kit. May his lengthy slump soon be over, forever and ever, amen.

And may he please get a haircut.

Gestating

And so the highlight of my year has come and gone. Dirtbunny has been to Baltimore to see her Dirtbunnies play in person. Dirtbunny, The Man, and 71,000 other people. It sold out. I had no idea. From the underwhelming response I've felt from around here, I thought I was alone in my futbol love. Nope. Other tifosi, wearing their team colors, shrieking delightedly at all the plays, groaning dramatically when the ball bounced off the crossbar, cheering madly when their favorite players took the pitch. I was with my peeps. It was awesome. I almost expired from all the love.




*sigh*



Here's some proof:




You know it's proof, because if I lifted these photos from someone else, they would have been good photos. Can you guess who that is in his "Aquarius" colored kit and specially designed bombardier helmet of brain injury avoidance? (I'm not kidding about the "Aquarius." That is apparently what Adidas calls that color.)



And down there are some Dirtbunnies. I know one of the longer-haired ones in white is Sleepy, and the black one in white is Clarence Seedorf, and I know that Rino is not in the picture because he hadn't come on yet, but otherwise, even I'm not sure what that is a picture of. Except Drogba. I can tell Drogba by the number on the blue jersey. Great. I went all the way to Baltimore and all I have to show for it is a photo of Didier Drogba.




So I got to see all of my Dirtbunnies play who were there (Petr Cech, Sleepy, Rino, Gian) except Deco. And I also got to see all the non-Dirtbunnies I was hoping to see (Borri, Pippo, Tiger). And I scouted some new Dirtbunnies material that you will be hearing about eventually.


I will say this. The next time we go to Baltimore, we will go the day before and get a hotel room. If you see The Man, it would be best not to ask him about the traffic. Or the parking lot.

Or how long it took to go 55 miles. There were times when we thought it wasn't worth it. But it was. Good times.

38 Days 'til Serie A Season Opener

So the Azzurri went to Confederations Cup. At first, all was well and it looked like they were going to the final, mostly because of this guy:




That would be Giuseppe Rossi, Jersey Boy. Beppe/Joe may or may not be transferring to Juventus this summer. I wouldn't know, because I'm not following the transfer rumors any more. He really is a good player. He belongs in Serie A, not playing for some third or fourth best Spanish team. Joebeppe had a great game against the USA. And also, there was a red card for a hard foul on Rino that gave him a wicked wedgie that he didn't bother to clear. (That's what you do with wedgies, right? You clear them?)




There he is, number 8, showing off his hamstring and glutes. It was an excellent game, although Loooca didn't score, which brings his streak to, I don't know, something like two years without a goal in international play.


And then the Azzurri played Egypt, which is a far inferior team, although not a terrible team. There's a reason Egypt keeps winning the African Cup of Nations. Their goalie was awesome. He played with a bloody rag wrapped around a seeping head wound for most of the game. A real tough guy. Yes indeedy. But the Azzurri lost. Here you see idiot Il Mister Lippi looking pained and Rino exhorting his boys to excellence from the bench:



Rino does not look happy, does he? But he's always en fuego, which is why we love him, and why he was Dirtbunny's first call up.



And after that, the Azzurri had to play Brazil, which are currently number one in the FIFA world rankings. The Azzurri were probably going to lose, but geewhiz it was going to be a humdinger of a game! Only it wasn't. And then we started thinking, well, damn, all you need to advance to the quarter finals is score one measly goal, even if you end up losing the game. They can score one measly goal. Only they couldn't.

Gian and Sleepy both on their backs while Robinho (Roe-bean-yo, not Robbin-hoe) uses them both utterly. Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.

And so does this:

[Rino looking on in stunned, pained disbelief while the rest of the bench tries to look invisible. How could his boys suck so bad?]

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The end result of all of this is that the Azzurri got knocked out of the tournament in the group stage, and the USA advanced. And then there were some exciting games with USA versus Spain and USA versus Brazil, and they were good to see, but they weren't the Azzurri. And because the Americans were playing, ESPN dropped the knowledgeable and entertaining broadcast teams of Tommy Smyth/Derek Rae and Adrian Healy/Robbie Mustoe in favor of some blathering idiot American commentators, so we were all deprived of excellent commentary as well as Italian futbollers. It was too sad.

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We are trying to fill the holes in our hearts with Le Tour de France brought to you in glorious high definition by Versus HD. There aren't any hot Italians, but there is a hot Swiss guy with an Italian name, and there's as much Lance Armstrong as any human being could reasonably be forced to bear. There are also some club friendlies coming up next week, to include our big trip to Baltimore to get impregnated by Sleepy--I mean--to see AC Milan sans Kaka kick some Blues of Satan buttocks. I might make it, if I knit more.

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Tangent: You may not think I proofread this, but I do, although not very carefully. Up there in the bit about the Egypt game, I started out with "There goalie." Does that make your head hurt? Mine too. I fixed it right away, to "They're goalie" and went on my merry way. Are you screaming inside with the dissonance? It's horrible, isn't it? Imagine if your job entailed spending all day reading crap from idiots who can't get their "it's" and "its" together! Anyway, because of the glories of proofreading, I caught my mistake in time. You're welcome. I don't know where it came from. I don't normally have trouble with this.

ADP in his hat

Luca Lunedi

Are you tired of the twelve-months-of-Luca? There will be more, but first, this fashion photo is too awesome to wait and it has gotten bumped up to the head of the line. Please remember that the art director of this photo shoot is working off the premise that Guys Messing Around With Engines = Sexy. Supposedly.

I'm not so sure that Guy Stranded on the Side of the Road with Neither a Cell Phone Nor a Working Knowledge of Engines = Sexy.

So much for the mystique of the gull-wing doors. The sort of chicas you can attract with a sports cars are not the sort of chicas who will understand when your sports car breaks down and you are reduced to tears. Oh, and the leather (plastic?) jacket adds to the poseur look. Poor Loooca.

Yarn Bandit Sez....

I DEMAND SOME ATTENTION! QUIT BEING DEPRESSED!