I have to admit, after the first half, I was worried. I knew Italy would win but I was a little worried because they looked just a little tired. But they held strong. They were the FINE ass men I knew them to be. Goodness gracious. Sports are some shit boy, the sheer exhiliration you can feel watching a group of men that you have no affiliation with, playing for a country that you have no ties to, against a country you have no grudge against. Yet there I was at 9:30 this morning at a bar in Little Italy, saving myself a seat for an 11 o'clock game. And there I sat til 1:30 when the team that I came to cheer on triumphed. I mean to be real, losing on penalty kicks must suck for France. I mean it's one of those anybodies game situations. But dear God, was I ever happy with the outcome. My love, Camoranesi, in all his long haired beautiful Italian glory had a great assist for their first goal. I mean looking at the man's thighs has been my favorite part of the tournament.
Oh World Cup, how I'll miss you. I will see you again in four years. Thanks for the cheers, laughs and beers that accompanied you.
To my azurri, MUAH!
And to this hot headed dumb ass...
THANK YOU
No comments:
Post a Comment