Ultimate Interviews - Matt.

We've learned a lot over the past month.

As the Final approaches on Sunday, it's time for an interview round-up.  We'll be hearing from each of our World Cup correspondents ONE LAST TIME in a segment I toyed with calling The End of the Road, but I don't like Boys I Men THAT much.

I sent each of my blog-helpers the same ten-questionnaire, through which I hope to discover the true essence of World Cup 2010.  That, or this is a lazy, literary gimmick.

Day Four Wrap Up.

There is some justice in the world, but not as much as I'd like.  Poopy.

For today's wrap up, I enlisted the help of a GIRL, my grood friend Jess Wdowiarz, who was kind enough to talk with me about soccer through the classiest of mediums: Facebook Chat.  Booyah.  Enjoy.

Prediction vs. Conviction, Part Three.

Welcome to Prediction vs. Conviction, in which I explain what teams I realistically want to advance from group play versus what teams I actually think will advance from competition.

Before we begin, I want to point out one thing:

That leopard has a camel-toe.  Way to mix animal-metaphors.  Sheesh.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, Part Three.

Have you noticed a gendered theme with all the people I'm slowly introducing you to? Judging by my blog, the World Cup is gonna be one big sausage-fest.

Next up on my list of correspondents is Matt. Young Matthew and I have two things in common: Goalkeeping abilities and bad backs. Other than that, we have nothing to talk about. That is, until now...

Murtaugh

It rained a lot in Kansas yesterday, and I'll admit, I think it got the better of me.

Currently, I'm sitting in my living room, computer perched on the body pillow in my lap, Roma vs. Chievo Verona on the small TV that belong to one of my roommates (I'm not sure which).  My upper body is wrapped in an old, sea-foam-green blanket I borrowed (accidentally stole) from a friend of a good friend and my feet are tucked into the bottom of my XXXL track pants I bought specifically for days like this.  

I generally hate Italian football (or Calcio, as one of my more pretentious friends calls it), but I'm sick, and soccer on TV is comforting and familiar.  It's the undulating hum of the crowd that calms me, the indecipherable chants and songs that roll back and forth beneath the match commentary.  Spanish football is the best for this.  I like the announcers' accents, the players' names, the cadence of the game and the fans.