If you haven’t heard, the U.S. men’s soccer team plays Germany at noon ET on Thursday in something called the World Cup. (That’s not, as some have suggested, a male protective device with a map of the globe imprinted on it. And the over/under on “Yours would be Pluto, Florio” comments is 15.5)
While I still have concerns about soccer — from the “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over, And That’s Not ‘Til One Guy And Only One Guy Tells Us It’s Over” timekeeping procedures to the multiple stretches where the game looks like a group of college kids kicking a ball around leisurely on the grass field by the admin building — the same sense of national pride that prompts sudden interest in a wide variety of otherwise ignored Olympic sports every four years has engaged the “U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” reflex.
But since the game/match/whatever kicks off/tips off/pushes off/whatever at 12:00 p.m. ET, I had a problem. That’s when PFT Live begins. Thanks to coach Jurgen Klinsmann, who provided the entire nation with a “get out of work free” pass on Twitter, I’ve persuaded the powers-that-be to empower me to watch the game/match/whatever.
And that’s what I’ll be doing. At least until 1:00 p.m. ET, when I press pause on the DVR and dial up Jon & Sean on 97.5 The Fanatic in Philly for a weekly visit.
After that, I can fast forward through the many hackey-sack sessions at midfield, looking for those rare moments when there’s an actual attack on the goal.
Or for the biting.