Quarter-final action kicked off today.
Germany and Brazil took care of business, but Neymar took a knee to the back...
Germany (1) - France (0)
On a day when defenders got offensive, Mats Hummels started off the action early. Heading in a direct kick in the 13th minute, Germany never looked back against the limp French.
That said, it is nice to see France make a deep run after their disastrous 2010 campaign.
While Die Mannschaft sounds like a Bruce Willis elevator porno movie, it apparently translates to "consistency."
The Germans have now reached the semis a record twelve times!
The last time the World Cup occurred in Brazil (1950), the Germans were banned. Since then, they have never ended worse than 7th and have three championships to their name.
To win their fourth championship, they will first need to face...
Brazil (2) - Colombia (1)
...Brazil, who was able to dispatch a revitalized Colombia program.
Continuing a stellar offensive day for defenders, Thiago Silva scored early and David Luiz scored late to provide the eventual game-winner, despite a late PK by James (pronounced "HAH-mayz") Rodriguez.
But Silva made a silly foul while the Colombian GK was punting the ball. This earned him a yellow card and a suspension for the game against Germany.
Equally worrisome, Neymar took a knee to the back late in the game and was carted off on a stretcher. Will he be match fit in time for Tuesday's big semi?
Update: Unfortunately not! Neymar is out for remainder of World Cup - four to six weeks.
Tomorrow....More Messi, and the Flying Dutchmen make their run at a possible title shot...
Friday, July 4, 2014
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
World Cup - Quarter-Final Preview
July 4th and 5th are sure to feature some great football!
Brazil v Columbia
Brazil squeaked past Chile, who their coach, Luiz Felipe Scolari, claimed was his biggest fear.
After passing that test, are they peaking at the right time? The hopes of a nation ride on Neymar's slight frame.
Now that the USA has been sent packing, I am rooting for only one team...five-time World Cup winners Brazil. Can they make it six? Everyone seems to doubt it, but a Neymar team is never desperate.
France v Germany
The Germans I spoke with said they fear France, Italy, and Spain. With only France left in the tourney, do the Germans view this as the only roadblock to their first title in 24 years (and their fourth overall)?
I think Germany will beat France, even though France has been playing better as of late.
But Germany best not take any of the remaining teams lightly. I've picked Germany to lose to Brazil in the semis, although I am the only one I've met (including Brazilians) who thinks Brazil will make it to the Final.
Argentina v Belgium
Belgium looked great against the US, but who, besides Portugal and Ghana, doesn't?
Everyone who isn't Belgian wants to see Messi in the Semis.
My guess is Argentina will pull off one more victory before losing to...
Netherland v Costa Rica
...the Flying Dutchmen, who face the Ticos in their quarter-final.
Neither team looked great in the Round of 16.
The Dutch had to stage a very late comeback against a formidable Mexico.
Costa Rica was pushed to penalties by a Greek team that may have been underestimated.
Predictions:
Brazil and Germany will face each other in one semi. My heart picks Brazil but my head says Germany.
Netherlands will face Argentina in the other semi. Netherlands will reach (and win) the final to finally add a World Cup to their trophy case.
Brazil v Columbia
Brazil squeaked past Chile, who their coach, Luiz Felipe Scolari, claimed was his biggest fear.
After passing that test, are they peaking at the right time? The hopes of a nation ride on Neymar's slight frame.
Now that the USA has been sent packing, I am rooting for only one team...five-time World Cup winners Brazil. Can they make it six? Everyone seems to doubt it, but a Neymar team is never desperate.
France v Germany
The Germans I spoke with said they fear France, Italy, and Spain. With only France left in the tourney, do the Germans view this as the only roadblock to their first title in 24 years (and their fourth overall)?
I think Germany will beat France, even though France has been playing better as of late.
But Germany best not take any of the remaining teams lightly. I've picked Germany to lose to Brazil in the semis, although I am the only one I've met (including Brazilians) who thinks Brazil will make it to the Final.
Argentina v Belgium
Belgium looked great against the US, but who, besides Portugal and Ghana, doesn't?
Everyone who isn't Belgian wants to see Messi in the Semis.
My guess is Argentina will pull off one more victory before losing to...
Netherland v Costa Rica
...the Flying Dutchmen, who face the Ticos in their quarter-final.
Neither team looked great in the Round of 16.
The Dutch had to stage a very late comeback against a formidable Mexico.
Costa Rica was pushed to penalties by a Greek team that may have been underestimated.
Predictions:
Brazil and Germany will face each other in one semi. My heart picks Brazil but my head says Germany.
Netherlands will face Argentina in the other semi. Netherlands will reach (and win) the final to finally add a World Cup to their trophy case.
World Cup - Day 20 - Fireworks but no Celebration
The Round of 16 concludes today!
For the fourth time in seven R16 matches, we go to overtime.
Will we go to penalties?
No, Messi will have an assist to someone whose name only Argentinians will ever remember.
And Albiceleste will go to the Quarters against...
...Belgium, who pretty much kicked the USA's butt for 105 of the 120+ minutes of playing time.
For the fifth time in eight R16 matches, we go to overtime again.
After 90 minutes in which Belgium dominated but couldn't sneak one past the amazing Tim Howard, the fireworks began in overtime.
The first Belgian goal was a punch to the gut, but it was the second that proved the eventual game winner.
Americans couldn't rally from the 0-2 deficit, but Julian Green (late sub) kept the game interesting to the final whistle.
They join Algeria in losing 1-2 in overtime to a superior team.
Good run, Yanks, but we would have loved to see you make at least the Quarters, which I'll preview in the next post.
Argentina (1) - Switzerland (0)
For the fourth time in seven R16 matches, we go to overtime.
Will we go to penalties?
No, Messi will have an assist to someone whose name only Argentinians will ever remember.
And Albiceleste will go to the Quarters against...
Belgium (2) - USA (1)
...Belgium, who pretty much kicked the USA's butt for 105 of the 120+ minutes of playing time.
For the fifth time in eight R16 matches, we go to overtime again.
After 90 minutes in which Belgium dominated but couldn't sneak one past the amazing Tim Howard, the fireworks began in overtime.
The first Belgian goal was a punch to the gut, but it was the second that proved the eventual game winner.
Americans couldn't rally from the 0-2 deficit, but Julian Green (late sub) kept the game interesting to the final whistle.
They join Algeria in losing 1-2 in overtime to a superior team.
Good run, Yanks, but we would have loved to see you make at least the Quarters, which I'll preview in the next post.
Monday, June 30, 2014
World Cup - Day 19 - Europeans find Favor but barely beat the 'Gerias
In the third day of the knock-out stage, France and Germany were both favored in their matches. How did the Europeans fare?
France beat Nigeria, but the match was closer than the final score implies. Les Bleus now head to the quarter-finals, where they'll face Germany.
Nigeria proved worthy, but I'm not sorry to see them exit the tourney. To my mind, they should have lost their match with Bosnia-Herzegovina and been bounced prior to the Round of 16.
After 90 minutes of regulation play, the Germans finally broke open the game early in the first overtime (the third OT game in six matches, and the first not to end in penalties).
They added an insurance goal as the second OT wound down.
Good thing, because they needed the insurance when Algeria scored in stoppage time.
The two European powers will face off in the quarter-finals. The winner will face the survivor of the Brazil-Columbia quarter-final.
France (2) - Nigeria (0)
France beat Nigeria, but the match was closer than the final score implies. Les Bleus now head to the quarter-finals, where they'll face Germany.
Nigeria proved worthy, but I'm not sorry to see them exit the tourney. To my mind, they should have lost their match with Bosnia-Herzegovina and been bounced prior to the Round of 16.
Germany (2) - Algeria (1)
After 90 minutes of regulation play, the Germans finally broke open the game early in the first overtime (the third OT game in six matches, and the first not to end in penalties).
They added an insurance goal as the second OT wound down.
Good thing, because they needed the insurance when Algeria scored in stoppage time.
The two European powers will face off in the quarter-finals. The winner will face the survivor of the Brazil-Columbia quarter-final.
Recife - Sunday June 29 - Tico-Greco Wrestling
Our trip is winding down, but the Round of 16 is just getting started.
Yesterday's Brazil game featured both figurative and literal fireworks.
Today, we plan to get part-way to the arena to watch the Netherlands-Mexico match-up at 1:00 before heading to the last game we'll watch in Recife, Costa Rica vs ersatz Cinderella, Greece.
We meet our friends, Nina and Bia, near FanFest in central Recife.
There is a big screen in the courtyard, but it is hot in the sun and we're hungry. So we opt to watch the game in the adjacent food court, where there are several small screens and many Mexican fans.
There are six of us, but I have only four tickets to the game. Our friends plan to accompany us out to the stadium to just see what it is like. The World Cup may not return to their country for another 64 years. May they live to see it in 2078!
On the way through the crowd, I spot some Germans selling an extra ticket at face value. Lacking any marquee teams, and with most Ticos having already seen a game in Recife last week, the game is not in high demand, but some people are still holding out hope to recoup their investment.
An obvious scalper asks me if I'm Greek. Although my complexion resembles Chobani, no one has ever mistaken me for being Greek.
We head inside the mall where there is an ice rink. A dozen Brazilians, who cheat death at every turn, are wearing helmets as they stagger around the small rink, just in case a hockey game suddenly breaks out. (Old joke: "I was at a boxing match the other night and a hockey game broke out.")
We make our way to the food court and pull together a table for six...five chairs on one side and the odd chair on the other, so most of us have a better view of the flat-screen. The anthems are playing. Someone asks me to sit down, in a mall food court before the game has even started, because people here care that much about soccer, and he wants an unobstructed view.
We take turns watching each others bags as people pick their meal from the myriad choices. No one is enraptured by the game, but this is one of the biggest matches to date. Mexico has been playing well of late, and Netherlands is likely to make it to the Final in Rio.
The partisan crowd occasionally oohs and ahhs. I'm busy getting food and really don't watch the match. I'm planning an early exit to try to get extra tickets for this afternoon's match. I sneak back down to FanFest but find no viable sellers.
We will leave the mall and the televised game about midway through the second half to allow time to take mass transit out to the stadium. I am surreptitiously facebooking like crazy trying to find some tickets for my friends. It is unclear how badly they want to go to the game and at what price.
A bedraggled middle-aged blonde woman searches about for a seat in the food court, asking if people are using various chairs. Somehow, we have an extra and invite her to sit with us. She is German but speaks fluent English and a good bit of Spanish. She tells us she is following Germany's MNT around, and has been staying in hostels by herself. Our Brazilian friends have little idea what she is saying. We've seen many solo male travelers and many women accompanying them, but it is still a heavily male environment. My mind races at the thought of a late 40's (early 50's?) American woman following the USMNT around Brazil by herself. It doesn't seem possible. She has a glazed, hippyish look, but other than being in Brazil alone, she seems perfectly lucid.
She is catching a flight that night at 2:00 am to see Germany play in another city and is skipping this afternoon's game in Recife so as not to miss her plane (the seven hour buffer seems plenty, and nothing else about her seems risk averse). She tells us of a friend she met in a hostel who is giving away three tickets to today's game. My friends' ears perk up (at least the one who speaks some English). How much are the tickets?! Yes, they are free as in beer, but the German frau's friend may have given them away already. He is supposedly at FanFest next door. She will try to find him and bring him back to the food court.
It is really time to leave, but Mexico has made the first match of the day interesting with the go-ahead goal (1-0) vs the favored Netherlands. We really should go.
My son asks if we can watch the end of the match. The food court is suddenly rapt, but the clock is winding down. With less than ten minutes to go, can Mexico pull the upset? No, it is not to be, but an earth-shattering comeback is in the offing. Netherlands equalizes late in the game and then scores the game-winner on a PK in stoppage time. Opa! Good thing too, because we didn't have time to stay for overtime.
We head downstairs and find the German woman at FanFest. No luck, her friend is not there. We head to the metro that will take us to the stadium. We walk through neighborhoods we wouldn't chance without a Brazilian escort. Our tourista-ness rubs off on them and they become targets as well. We cross a bridge and admire the view, and our Brazilian friends haggle on our behalf for some sunglasses outside the metro.
We make it to the last metro stop and get a shuttle bus to the arena itself. Immediately, there are people selling tickets, and my Brazilian friends are clearly trying to find some. They know many things about Brazil, but they aren't really familiar with ticket prices and the availability, which varies wildly from game to game.
No, we won't pay full price we tell the first few offerers. A nice Hispanic man offers us tickets at about 2/3 face value. No, my friends say, too expensive, especially with the weak Real. It is still 30 minutes before kickoff, which isn't a lot of time to find our seats, especially if there is a problem with the tickets.
We stride closer to the stadium. The Hispanic gent still hasn't sold his two tickets. I offer him half price and he reluctantly accepts. American greenbacks to the rescue again. I ask, "These tickets are good, right?" He speaks fluent English and says, "They have my name on them!," which he appears to take very seriously. His sacred oath that the tickets bearing his name are valid seems good enough. I ask him to count the money, and we complete the transaction.
My son and I will sit in the two extra seats. My wife, daughter, and two friends will sit in our original four seats.
I explain to my Brazilian friends that we have procured tickets for them. Bia understands immediately and is smiling ear-to-ear. She is very excited to see the game. We all hug. They have been such great hosts, it will be wonderful to watch the game with them. Nina seems unclear on why we are hugging. It takes a few more minutes of translation, and as the facts-on-the-ground wash over her, her face suddenly breaks into a huge smile.
We laugh and take pictures as we head toward the security lines. Best investment of the trip.
I make sure each of the four tickets gets the four women into the stadium. They haven't been checking IDs, and there is no problem. The ladies are inside and smiling broadly. My daughter asks for her glasses and camera from my bag, and we part ways.
My son and I ("Manuel" and "Efren" for the moment) need to enter at a nearby gate. I remind him to speak only in Spanish. I high-five my son as we pass through the turnstiles. He reminds me to play it cool until we are around the corner out of sight.
We find our way to our seats, where we have a lively conversation with an American and Australian.
The Australian leaves with about 5 minutes to go in regulation but comes back when he hears the stadium roar at Costa Rica's equalizer.
The match turns out to be one helluva game. It goes into overtime and finally penalties. We definitely got our money's worth.
It is already well past 8 pm. We make our way back via shuttle buses and metro trains. On the way back, our friends arrange for us to meet their families at a nearby restaurant. I hear my friend refer to us as her "familia americano," when talking to her sister by phone. I smile. We arrive around 9:30.
Their family is wonderful. The younger generation all speak English, as do some American friends of theirs, also visiting for the World Cup. A grand time is had by all. My kids are happy to speak some English, as all the language barriers can be difficult at times. But they are happiest talking about Tosh.0 and not having to translate the cultural references.
Our friend's nephew drives us home, but not before inviting my son to play soccer with him tomorrow.
It is past midnight. Our German acquaintance has missed the fun but not her flight. She will arrive at 6 am in Porte Alegre, in plenty of time to see Germany beat Algeria in the cool evening air.
Another soccer-heavy day tomorrow.
Boa noite!
Yesterday's Brazil game featured both figurative and literal fireworks.
Today, we plan to get part-way to the arena to watch the Netherlands-Mexico match-up at 1:00 before heading to the last game we'll watch in Recife, Costa Rica vs ersatz Cinderella, Greece.
We meet our friends, Nina and Bia, near FanFest in central Recife.
There is a big screen in the courtyard, but it is hot in the sun and we're hungry. So we opt to watch the game in the adjacent food court, where there are several small screens and many Mexican fans.
There are six of us, but I have only four tickets to the game. Our friends plan to accompany us out to the stadium to just see what it is like. The World Cup may not return to their country for another 64 years. May they live to see it in 2078!
On the way through the crowd, I spot some Germans selling an extra ticket at face value. Lacking any marquee teams, and with most Ticos having already seen a game in Recife last week, the game is not in high demand, but some people are still holding out hope to recoup their investment.
An obvious scalper asks me if I'm Greek. Although my complexion resembles Chobani, no one has ever mistaken me for being Greek.
We head inside the mall where there is an ice rink. A dozen Brazilians, who cheat death at every turn, are wearing helmets as they stagger around the small rink, just in case a hockey game suddenly breaks out. (Old joke: "I was at a boxing match the other night and a hockey game broke out.")
We make our way to the food court and pull together a table for six...five chairs on one side and the odd chair on the other, so most of us have a better view of the flat-screen. The anthems are playing. Someone asks me to sit down, in a mall food court before the game has even started, because people here care that much about soccer, and he wants an unobstructed view.
We take turns watching each others bags as people pick their meal from the myriad choices. No one is enraptured by the game, but this is one of the biggest matches to date. Mexico has been playing well of late, and Netherlands is likely to make it to the Final in Rio.
The partisan crowd occasionally oohs and ahhs. I'm busy getting food and really don't watch the match. I'm planning an early exit to try to get extra tickets for this afternoon's match. I sneak back down to FanFest but find no viable sellers.
We will leave the mall and the televised game about midway through the second half to allow time to take mass transit out to the stadium. I am surreptitiously facebooking like crazy trying to find some tickets for my friends. It is unclear how badly they want to go to the game and at what price.
A bedraggled middle-aged blonde woman searches about for a seat in the food court, asking if people are using various chairs. Somehow, we have an extra and invite her to sit with us. She is German but speaks fluent English and a good bit of Spanish. She tells us she is following Germany's MNT around, and has been staying in hostels by herself. Our Brazilian friends have little idea what she is saying. We've seen many solo male travelers and many women accompanying them, but it is still a heavily male environment. My mind races at the thought of a late 40's (early 50's?) American woman following the USMNT around Brazil by herself. It doesn't seem possible. She has a glazed, hippyish look, but other than being in Brazil alone, she seems perfectly lucid.
She is catching a flight that night at 2:00 am to see Germany play in another city and is skipping this afternoon's game in Recife so as not to miss her plane (the seven hour buffer seems plenty, and nothing else about her seems risk averse). She tells us of a friend she met in a hostel who is giving away three tickets to today's game. My friends' ears perk up (at least the one who speaks some English). How much are the tickets?! Yes, they are free as in beer, but the German frau's friend may have given them away already. He is supposedly at FanFest next door. She will try to find him and bring him back to the food court.
It is really time to leave, but Mexico has made the first match of the day interesting with the go-ahead goal (1-0) vs the favored Netherlands. We really should go.
My son asks if we can watch the end of the match. The food court is suddenly rapt, but the clock is winding down. With less than ten minutes to go, can Mexico pull the upset? No, it is not to be, but an earth-shattering comeback is in the offing. Netherlands equalizes late in the game and then scores the game-winner on a PK in stoppage time. Opa! Good thing too, because we didn't have time to stay for overtime.
We head downstairs and find the German woman at FanFest. No luck, her friend is not there. We head to the metro that will take us to the stadium. We walk through neighborhoods we wouldn't chance without a Brazilian escort. Our tourista-ness rubs off on them and they become targets as well. We cross a bridge and admire the view, and our Brazilian friends haggle on our behalf for some sunglasses outside the metro.
We make it to the last metro stop and get a shuttle bus to the arena itself. Immediately, there are people selling tickets, and my Brazilian friends are clearly trying to find some. They know many things about Brazil, but they aren't really familiar with ticket prices and the availability, which varies wildly from game to game.
No, we won't pay full price we tell the first few offerers. A nice Hispanic man offers us tickets at about 2/3 face value. No, my friends say, too expensive, especially with the weak Real. It is still 30 minutes before kickoff, which isn't a lot of time to find our seats, especially if there is a problem with the tickets.
We stride closer to the stadium. The Hispanic gent still hasn't sold his two tickets. I offer him half price and he reluctantly accepts. American greenbacks to the rescue again. I ask, "These tickets are good, right?" He speaks fluent English and says, "They have my name on them!," which he appears to take very seriously. His sacred oath that the tickets bearing his name are valid seems good enough. I ask him to count the money, and we complete the transaction.
My son and I will sit in the two extra seats. My wife, daughter, and two friends will sit in our original four seats.
I explain to my Brazilian friends that we have procured tickets for them. Bia understands immediately and is smiling ear-to-ear. She is very excited to see the game. We all hug. They have been such great hosts, it will be wonderful to watch the game with them. Nina seems unclear on why we are hugging. It takes a few more minutes of translation, and as the facts-on-the-ground wash over her, her face suddenly breaks into a huge smile.
We laugh and take pictures as we head toward the security lines. Best investment of the trip.
I make sure each of the four tickets gets the four women into the stadium. They haven't been checking IDs, and there is no problem. The ladies are inside and smiling broadly. My daughter asks for her glasses and camera from my bag, and we part ways.
My son and I ("Manuel" and "Efren" for the moment) need to enter at a nearby gate. I remind him to speak only in Spanish. I high-five my son as we pass through the turnstiles. He reminds me to play it cool until we are around the corner out of sight.
We find our way to our seats, where we have a lively conversation with an American and Australian.
The Australian leaves with about 5 minutes to go in regulation but comes back when he hears the stadium roar at Costa Rica's equalizer.
The match turns out to be one helluva game. It goes into overtime and finally penalties. We definitely got our money's worth.
It is already well past 8 pm. We make our way back via shuttle buses and metro trains. On the way back, our friends arrange for us to meet their families at a nearby restaurant. I hear my friend refer to us as her "familia americano," when talking to her sister by phone. I smile. We arrive around 9:30.
Their family is wonderful. The younger generation all speak English, as do some American friends of theirs, also visiting for the World Cup. A grand time is had by all. My kids are happy to speak some English, as all the language barriers can be difficult at times. But they are happiest talking about Tosh.0 and not having to translate the cultural references.
Our friend's nephew drives us home, but not before inviting my son to play soccer with him tomorrow.
It is past midnight. Our German acquaintance has missed the fun but not her flight. She will arrive at 6 am in Porte Alegre, in plenty of time to see Germany beat Algeria in the cool evening air.
Another soccer-heavy day tomorrow.
Boa noite!
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Recife - Saturday June 28 - Brazil is Burning (Reprise)
The plan for today was to watch the Brazil-Chile Round of 16 game.
We stopped by a local hotel last night to inquire as to whether we needed reservations to watch the game in their restaurant. (Yes, Brazilians reserve tables to watch games in restaurants. It even happens in Little Brazil in NYC, where it will cost you $60 USD for a meal and a view of the game.)
They assured us that no reservation was required, so we knew it wasn't the place to watch.
I woke up early and blogged. I heard the familiar noise of a loud-speaker from the street. I've learned enough Portuguese and leaned out my window enough times to know it was the propane delivery truck (gas stoves here are powered by large propane tanks, about 4x the size of US ones used for backyard grills) announcing their presence and prices. I'll be home before I get the hang of this place.
We asked some friends and settled on a local restaurant/bar or three that sounded like good potential candidates within walking distance.
The morning flew by and I realized we'd be too late if we didn't get to one of them soon.
Last week's American watch party filled up 2 hours in advance of the USA-Portugal game. Maybe I was supposed to wait in line overnight for a Brazilian bar.
We high-tailed it out the door and through the flooded street. Yes, it had been raining again.
Our other option was to go the long way around but there was no time to risk getting lost. As with last Thursday...never mind...we vowed never to speak of it again.
We walked about 2 miles through what turned out to be a not-so-good part of town and found the restaurant...empty.
Huh? It is 11:35 am and kickoff is at 1:00. There are three big screen projectors and three small screens over the bar. This place should be full. Maybe this is the wrong place to watch. But the place is set up for a large crowd, both inside and out.
We ask for a table in front near one of the big screens, and that is when we start noticing the "Reserved" signs on table after prime-viewing table. We find the first/best unreserved table and are only about 30 feet back from the big screen, with a good, unobstructed view.
Thirty minutes pass and no waiter even attempts to take our order. My wife asks if they know we are here for the game or whether they are going to kick us out for not ordering food. The rest of us wonder if she is serious.
We order some pitchers of exotic fruit juice and an espresso to help calm my wife.
By the time our drinks arrive, the restaurant has begun to fill. By 12:15 most of the tables are gone. By 12:30, patrons newly arrived are desperately scurrying around to find a vantage point from which to watch.
We sip our juice and I tell my family, "That's why we needed to practically sprint here."
We order some appetizers around 12:45, but the place is packed. We're in no rush. We'll be here until at least 3:00.
We people-watch and estimate the bar to be about 75% Brazilians. Perfecto.
Almost everyone is wearing a Brazilian jersey, unless it is a green pantsuit fashioned out of the Brazilian flag (artist's rendering). The restaurant is upscale but the atmosphere and patrons are casual. The staff is ready for the crowd, and service is admirable and efficient. Think Superbowl Sunday with table service, very attentive table service.
Around 12:59, the people with reserved tables start to arrive. One table of five is already on their second bottle of champagne, with four more to follow to the slaughter.
Women range from the sloppy to the haute coitured. It reminds me of a church on Easter or a temple on Rosh Hoshannah. Everyone out to see, be seen, be seen eating, and worship their personal god.
We order lunch, knowing it might not arrive until halftime.
Kick-off comes and an early goal by David Luiz sends the bar into a frenzy. This will be an easy game...
A huge firecracker goes off in the street. It must be an M-80 or larger. We duck and cover. No one else seems to notice.
The food arrives sooner than expected, as does the equalizer from Chile. The room falls silent, as patrons refuse to even acknowledge what everyone can sense.
Patrons chainsmoke on the deck, just outside our table's reach. I ask the manager to ask them to stop (I'm pretty sure it is illegal to smoke in restaurants in Brazil, and all the smoke is blowing in through the open doors). The manager talks to the smoking patron but there are many understudies ready to take up the cause. He returns to apologize profusely through a busboy interpreter, saying only, "The man has many problems. We are sorry. Very sorry. Very sorry." Like everything in Brazil, smoking rules are on a sliding scale.
The tension continues for another almost unbearable 60 minutes more of regulation and 30 minutes of overtime. Chile rattles the crossbar and all of Brazil's nerves.
The food has long since been ignored, but we order some more juice.
Women in tight, cropped tops and short shorts hang on every moment. The table next to us is polishing off champagne bottle number six (?). We've lost count, even though every time they order one, the waiter blocks our view while he pops the cork and pours a glass for each of them. A bottle of Tabasco shatters. A woman in six-inch platform shoes stands to avoid the glass and red slick beneath her chair. We can't see the screen. Is she that drunk or just insane? The busboy and the patron who dropped the Tabasco are trying to clean it up and calm her down, blocking our view even more. Don't they know the penalties are about to begin!
Julio Cesar appears on slow-mo close-up on the big screen. He looks pale as a sheet and about to vomit. The fate of all Brazil rests on his shoulders. We don't want to be in a bar or on the street if they lose, but it is like an accident too gruesome to look away from.
David Luiz scores Brazil's first penalty. The room explodes.
Chile misses their first. The room re-explodes in appreciation for their GK.
Brazil misses its second penalty, and the room nearly implodes.
Chile misses their second, and people start to breathe a sigh of relief. The GK could be elected president any moment.
Marcello scores again for Brazil, now up 2-0, and the room is in a frenzy. A middle-aged but well-preserved Brazilian woman is standing on her chair, flashing anyone who cares to notice. Her 70-year old mother does the same.
Chile scores and Hulk misses, and Chile scores again. Suddenly it is 2-2, and the room is getting increasingly nervous. We consider an early exit but can't bear to leave. This is way more fun than that stinker of a match between US-Germany.
Neymar steps to the penalty spot, still limping from the beating he has taken for the last two hours. Like Elvis, his aim is true, and no Brazilian will ever question why he wears the #10 jersey.
Chile misses their last penalty off the post. Brazil wins 3-2 and the room is chaos.
We cheer. My son nearly dislocates my shoulder with his high-five x 2. We're high-fiving complete strangers.
My son offers to take a picture of the multi-generational flashers with their camera. They think he is asking to be in their picture and invite him in. No one cares who you are, selfies for everyone!
We notice it is well past four. We have been in the restaurant watching the beautiful game with the beautiful people for almost five hours.
This has been one of the greatest experiences of our trip so far, but things can go to shit quickly in Brazil, and we still have to walk home several miles through unfamiliar neighborhoods. We decide to walk along the beach...our bag of leftovers marking us even more obviously as tourists, if that were possible.
The fireworks begin in the empty streets.
We hurry home, unsure of whether we would have been safer if Brazil had lost. (I think back to my friend's constant reminders that Brazil would go up like a powder keg when they lose, because of the pent up anger over spending and corruption.) Large explosions are heard every few minutes, small ones nearly constantly.
We spend the rest of the night listening to them from our balcony and our bedrooms. We eat leftovers and watch the Columbia-Uruguay game from the safety of our living room.
The city is thick with smoke, this time with the distinct smell of sulphur-laden Chinese fireworks, and you wonder if you have a sore throat or just smoke inhalation.
For the second time in a week, Brazil is burning, and this time it isn't for the Festival of Sao Jaoa.
We stopped by a local hotel last night to inquire as to whether we needed reservations to watch the game in their restaurant. (Yes, Brazilians reserve tables to watch games in restaurants. It even happens in Little Brazil in NYC, where it will cost you $60 USD for a meal and a view of the game.)
They assured us that no reservation was required, so we knew it wasn't the place to watch.
I woke up early and blogged. I heard the familiar noise of a loud-speaker from the street. I've learned enough Portuguese and leaned out my window enough times to know it was the propane delivery truck (gas stoves here are powered by large propane tanks, about 4x the size of US ones used for backyard grills) announcing their presence and prices. I'll be home before I get the hang of this place.
We asked some friends and settled on a local restaurant/bar or three that sounded like good potential candidates within walking distance.
The morning flew by and I realized we'd be too late if we didn't get to one of them soon.
Last week's American watch party filled up 2 hours in advance of the USA-Portugal game. Maybe I was supposed to wait in line overnight for a Brazilian bar.
We high-tailed it out the door and through the flooded street. Yes, it had been raining again.
Our other option was to go the long way around but there was no time to risk getting lost. As with last Thursday...never mind...we vowed never to speak of it again.
We walked about 2 miles through what turned out to be a not-so-good part of town and found the restaurant...empty.
Huh? It is 11:35 am and kickoff is at 1:00. There are three big screen projectors and three small screens over the bar. This place should be full. Maybe this is the wrong place to watch. But the place is set up for a large crowd, both inside and out.
We ask for a table in front near one of the big screens, and that is when we start noticing the "Reserved" signs on table after prime-viewing table. We find the first/best unreserved table and are only about 30 feet back from the big screen, with a good, unobstructed view.
Thirty minutes pass and no waiter even attempts to take our order. My wife asks if they know we are here for the game or whether they are going to kick us out for not ordering food. The rest of us wonder if she is serious.
We order some pitchers of exotic fruit juice and an espresso to help calm my wife.
By the time our drinks arrive, the restaurant has begun to fill. By 12:15 most of the tables are gone. By 12:30, patrons newly arrived are desperately scurrying around to find a vantage point from which to watch.
We sip our juice and I tell my family, "That's why we needed to practically sprint here."
We order some appetizers around 12:45, but the place is packed. We're in no rush. We'll be here until at least 3:00.
We people-watch and estimate the bar to be about 75% Brazilians. Perfecto.
Almost everyone is wearing a Brazilian jersey, unless it is a green pantsuit fashioned out of the Brazilian flag (artist's rendering). The restaurant is upscale but the atmosphere and patrons are casual. The staff is ready for the crowd, and service is admirable and efficient. Think Superbowl Sunday with table service, very attentive table service.
Around 12:59, the people with reserved tables start to arrive. One table of five is already on their second bottle of champagne, with four more to follow to the slaughter.
Women range from the sloppy to the haute coitured. It reminds me of a church on Easter or a temple on Rosh Hoshannah. Everyone out to see, be seen, be seen eating, and worship their personal god.
We order lunch, knowing it might not arrive until halftime.
Kick-off comes and an early goal by David Luiz sends the bar into a frenzy. This will be an easy game...
A huge firecracker goes off in the street. It must be an M-80 or larger. We duck and cover. No one else seems to notice.
The food arrives sooner than expected, as does the equalizer from Chile. The room falls silent, as patrons refuse to even acknowledge what everyone can sense.
Patrons chainsmoke on the deck, just outside our table's reach. I ask the manager to ask them to stop (I'm pretty sure it is illegal to smoke in restaurants in Brazil, and all the smoke is blowing in through the open doors). The manager talks to the smoking patron but there are many understudies ready to take up the cause. He returns to apologize profusely through a busboy interpreter, saying only, "The man has many problems. We are sorry. Very sorry. Very sorry." Like everything in Brazil, smoking rules are on a sliding scale.
The tension continues for another almost unbearable 60 minutes more of regulation and 30 minutes of overtime. Chile rattles the crossbar and all of Brazil's nerves.
The food has long since been ignored, but we order some more juice.
Women in tight, cropped tops and short shorts hang on every moment. The table next to us is polishing off champagne bottle number six (?). We've lost count, even though every time they order one, the waiter blocks our view while he pops the cork and pours a glass for each of them. A bottle of Tabasco shatters. A woman in six-inch platform shoes stands to avoid the glass and red slick beneath her chair. We can't see the screen. Is she that drunk or just insane? The busboy and the patron who dropped the Tabasco are trying to clean it up and calm her down, blocking our view even more. Don't they know the penalties are about to begin!
Julio Cesar appears on slow-mo close-up on the big screen. He looks pale as a sheet and about to vomit. The fate of all Brazil rests on his shoulders. We don't want to be in a bar or on the street if they lose, but it is like an accident too gruesome to look away from.
David Luiz scores Brazil's first penalty. The room explodes.
Chile misses their first. The room re-explodes in appreciation for their GK.
Brazil misses its second penalty, and the room nearly implodes.
Chile misses their second, and people start to breathe a sigh of relief. The GK could be elected president any moment.
Marcello scores again for Brazil, now up 2-0, and the room is in a frenzy. A middle-aged but well-preserved Brazilian woman is standing on her chair, flashing anyone who cares to notice. Her 70-year old mother does the same.
Chile scores and Hulk misses, and Chile scores again. Suddenly it is 2-2, and the room is getting increasingly nervous. We consider an early exit but can't bear to leave. This is way more fun than that stinker of a match between US-Germany.
Neymar steps to the penalty spot, still limping from the beating he has taken for the last two hours. Like Elvis, his aim is true, and no Brazilian will ever question why he wears the #10 jersey.
Chile misses their last penalty off the post. Brazil wins 3-2 and the room is chaos.
We cheer. My son nearly dislocates my shoulder with his high-five x 2. We're high-fiving complete strangers.
My son offers to take a picture of the multi-generational flashers with their camera. They think he is asking to be in their picture and invite him in. No one cares who you are, selfies for everyone!
We notice it is well past four. We have been in the restaurant watching the beautiful game with the beautiful people for almost five hours.
This has been one of the greatest experiences of our trip so far, but things can go to shit quickly in Brazil, and we still have to walk home several miles through unfamiliar neighborhoods. We decide to walk along the beach...our bag of leftovers marking us even more obviously as tourists, if that were possible.
The fireworks begin in the empty streets.
We hurry home, unsure of whether we would have been safer if Brazil had lost. (I think back to my friend's constant reminders that Brazil would go up like a powder keg when they lose, because of the pent up anger over spending and corruption.) Large explosions are heard every few minutes, small ones nearly constantly.
We spend the rest of the night listening to them from our balcony and our bedrooms. We eat leftovers and watch the Columbia-Uruguay game from the safety of our living room.
The city is thick with smoke, this time with the distinct smell of sulphur-laden Chinese fireworks, and you wonder if you have a sore throat or just smoke inhalation.
For the second time in a week, Brazil is burning, and this time it isn't for the Festival of Sao Jaoa.
World Cup Day 18 - Dutch Treat. Ticos in Penalties.
Today features one marquee match-up everyone is desperate to watch, and another for which tickets are readily available. Both turn out to be barn-burners
Netherlands (2) - Mexico (1)
Right in the cojones, this one is going to smart for a long, long, long time.
The defending Olympic champs, Mexico, looked in poor form leading up to the World Cup, dropping games to the underwhelming Yanks, for example. But they tied Brazil during pool play, earning the A2 seed, and have looked quite good of late. Their GK, Ochoa, has been stopping the unstoppable, routinely making amazing saves (beginning with his stoppage-time stop against Cameroon in the first match of pool play).
The Flying Dutchmen have been the team to watch so far, beginning with their epic defeat of Spain in their first match in pool play. Every cab driver in Brazil thinks it will be Hollande v Alemanha facing off in Rio's Maracana in July. No one expected them to have an easy time with Mexico, but everyone expected The Oranje to prevail.
Well, the Mexicans had other ideas and were about to pop the fiesta champagne, when Wesley Sneijder decided to keep it interesting. The Dutchman's fabulous strike in the 88th minute froze a shielded Ochoa and found the back of the net with aplomb.
Six minutes later, a questionable call on what appeared to be an exaggerated fall, if not an outright flop, in the box led to a game-winning PK.
If Mexico could take Netherlands to the limit, then maybe Brazil isn't as vulnerable as we thought, or maybe the Dutch are more vulnerable than anyone thought.
Hope you didn't turn your TV sets off early boys and girls.
Costa Rica 1 (5) - Greeks 1 (3)
Not to be outdone by the Brazil/Chile or Netherlands/Mexico fireworks, the Greeks and Costa Ricans refused to recognize how bored the rest of the world was with their match and decided to play it anyway. That said, tickets were being sold for half price or less just before game time.
Greece looked reasonably good and had a slight edge in possession, but had a much bigger edge in shots-on-goal. Unfortunately, they also had a huge edge in off-sides and couldn't convert any chances early.
Costa Rica was equally ineffectual, and the first half ended 0-0.
Early in the second half, Bryan Ruiz scored a goal on a crappy, dribbling shot. I don't know what happened, but it looked like the GK thought it was going wide. It wasn't.
But Oscar Duarte's second yellow in the 66th minute left Costa Rica playing a man down, and Greece began to press the attack more.
The game stayed 1-0 until early into stoppage time, when the Greeks succeeded in keeping it interesting. Socratis Papastathopoulos was credited with the equalizer and with the longest name I've ever heard.
No more scoring in OT led to a dramatic penalty shoot-out.
At 4-3, with Greece trying to keep pace, the Costa Rican GK came up with a huge save. A fifth straight successful penalty from Costa Rica sealed the Greeks' face.
Nice run, boys, and a seriously fun game to watch in person.
That's the second game in the first four of the knock-out stage to go to penalties. The other two games featured a PK winner in stoppage time by Netherlands, and 2/3 of a hat trick for Colombia's James.
Hope you tuned in, boys and girls.
Tomorrow, France beats Nigeria, and Germany destroys Algeria.
Netherlands (2) - Mexico (1)
Right in the cojones, this one is going to smart for a long, long, long time.
The defending Olympic champs, Mexico, looked in poor form leading up to the World Cup, dropping games to the underwhelming Yanks, for example. But they tied Brazil during pool play, earning the A2 seed, and have looked quite good of late. Their GK, Ochoa, has been stopping the unstoppable, routinely making amazing saves (beginning with his stoppage-time stop against Cameroon in the first match of pool play).
The Flying Dutchmen have been the team to watch so far, beginning with their epic defeat of Spain in their first match in pool play. Every cab driver in Brazil thinks it will be Hollande v Alemanha facing off in Rio's Maracana in July. No one expected them to have an easy time with Mexico, but everyone expected The Oranje to prevail.
Well, the Mexicans had other ideas and were about to pop the fiesta champagne, when Wesley Sneijder decided to keep it interesting. The Dutchman's fabulous strike in the 88th minute froze a shielded Ochoa and found the back of the net with aplomb.
Six minutes later, a questionable call on what appeared to be an exaggerated fall, if not an outright flop, in the box led to a game-winning PK.
If Mexico could take Netherlands to the limit, then maybe Brazil isn't as vulnerable as we thought, or maybe the Dutch are more vulnerable than anyone thought.
Hope you didn't turn your TV sets off early boys and girls.
Costa Rica 1 (5) - Greeks 1 (3)
Not to be outdone by the Brazil/Chile or Netherlands/Mexico fireworks, the Greeks and Costa Ricans refused to recognize how bored the rest of the world was with their match and decided to play it anyway. That said, tickets were being sold for half price or less just before game time.
Greece looked reasonably good and had a slight edge in possession, but had a much bigger edge in shots-on-goal. Unfortunately, they also had a huge edge in off-sides and couldn't convert any chances early.
Costa Rica was equally ineffectual, and the first half ended 0-0.
Early in the second half, Bryan Ruiz scored a goal on a crappy, dribbling shot. I don't know what happened, but it looked like the GK thought it was going wide. It wasn't.
But Oscar Duarte's second yellow in the 66th minute left Costa Rica playing a man down, and Greece began to press the attack more.
The game stayed 1-0 until early into stoppage time, when the Greeks succeeded in keeping it interesting. Socratis Papastathopoulos was credited with the equalizer and with the longest name I've ever heard.
No more scoring in OT led to a dramatic penalty shoot-out.
At 4-3, with Greece trying to keep pace, the Costa Rican GK came up with a huge save. A fifth straight successful penalty from Costa Rica sealed the Greeks' face.
Nice run, boys, and a seriously fun game to watch in person.
That's the second game in the first four of the knock-out stage to go to penalties. The other two games featured a PK winner in stoppage time by Netherlands, and 2/3 of a hat trick for Colombia's James.
Hope you tuned in, boys and girls.
Tomorrow, France beats Nigeria, and Germany destroys Algeria.
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