Acyn Torabi @acyn posted “The Battle of Baggage Claim” after Trump conflated the Revolution with the jet age.
Unless you were visiting Pluto over the Fourth of July weekend, you were aware that not all the fireworks were on Macy’s barges in New York City’s East River or over cityscapes and village greens around the nation.
No, much of the rockets’ red glare and many of the bombs bursting in air came from the Twitterati reacting to President Donald J. Trump’s address at the Lincoln Memorial.
Read MoreI know, I know, I should be writing about the World Cup and how Brazil couldn’t seem to catch a break – being shut out by the Netherlands in the consolation match – and whether or not Pope Francis has made a bet with Pope Emeritus Benedict re: the Argentina-Germany final.
But instead I find myself still on a Wimby high after Nole’s gutsy win, surfing the Net for tennis news. This is the delicious period before the start of the hard court season when tennis players take to the beach. (It’s one of the reasons I made the four athletes in my new novel “Water Music” two tennis players and two swimmers. Tennis players love water.) With Nole imposing a paparazzi blackout on his wedding – and kudos to him for keeping a private affair private – the paps have had to content themselves with delectable pix of Rafa in hot-pink board shorts.(Rrrrrrrr!) Which brings me to…
Andy Murray.
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I think it fair to say that the World Cup has eclipsed Wimbledon this year, what with the biting and the shouting and the salsa-dancing and the making of breakfast chicken enchiladas for the U.S. team and the holding up of the Uruguayan team’s dulce de leche in Brazilian customs and a point system that implies that even I might make the finals, just the whole internationalism of it. And you know what? Tennis is fine with it, because a lot of tennis players are soccer buffs.
Tennis actually has a lot in common with soccer as both require lots of fancy footwork. Indeed, YouTubers can check out videos of Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic playing soccer tennis, in which they use only their heads and feet to get the ball over the net. That Rafa and Nole, never at a loss for a way to entertain.
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So God dropped everything else Sunday, and the U.S. actually outplayed Portugal for a while. But in the end, we got sloppy and Portugal tied the game.
Look, the Portuguese may be old but the Americans aren’t very good, at least not Germany or The Netherlands good.
I watched the game on a Spanish channel, which is always fun as the sportscasters are excitable, yelling GOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL after every goal. It’s also great to hear a stream of Spanish punctuated by American names like Clint Dempsey – once the basis of a “Saturday Night Live” skit.
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These are not the best of times for Cristiano Rinaldo, considered to be the world’s greatest soccer player (along with Leo Messi) and current holder of the Ballon d’Or as the No. 1-ranked player.
Playing for his native Portugal, he flamed out against Germany in early round action at the World Cup while Germany’s Thomas Müller – who isn’t considered to be as talented and certainly not as handsome or glamorous – led his team to a 4-0 victory.
Those who like to see Tall Poppies, as the Aussies call them, cut down to size were in their element. And indeed Rinaldo played right into the hands of his detractors by skipping the post-game press conference.
But the bigger question is why would someone who plays so well for Real Madrid play so poorly in the World Cup? (In the two previous Cups, Rinaldo has two goals in eight games.) Clearly, Portugal is not the team it once was. But that only explains why the Portuguese lost to the Germans. It doesn’t explain why they were shut out.
Is it simply possible that Rinaldo – like another handsome, seemingly self-centered athlete, one Alex Rodriguez – is a better regular season player than special occasion player?
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All this talk about corruption in the World Cup and Qatar, the 2022 host, having to give out luxury autos to pave the stands, reminds me that it would take a lot more than a giveaway to get Americans to watch soccer. OK, so maybe not a lot more but something.
Despite a large immigrant population that loves it, soccer remains child’s play in this country, watched over by disgruntled “soccer moms” and “soccer dads,” who act like they’re managing the New York Yankees, to mix my sports metaphors.
But I digress from my real purpose here, which is to recall those halcyon days of the 1970s when President Jimmy Carter decided we were all going to become internationalists.
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