I'm behind

I wanted to write well thought out previews & analyses of each of the groups competing in the tournament, but life (and lethargy) unfortunately got in the way. I wanted to make some comments about each game that I watched (or moreso the madness surrounding my viewing of each game), but player-by-player, position-by-position, strength & weakness analysis of each of the teams would require some sort of hyper-motivation only available to those who have the magical prescription to the wonderful magical pill known as Adderol (or to Bart Simpson as Focusin).

Alas.

I am not one of the lucky.

Dammit.
(anybody know a good online pharmacy?)

So I find myself mired in a level of lethargy that will only allow me to touch on a few of the high and low points of the various teams. Trust me, these things matter far far more than any level of footballing skill. As good as any team might be, the beauty of football is that a small mistake or moment of genius can create one of those magical moments that changes the flow of an entire game, decide an unexpected winner, or relegate a champion to being a loser.

A visionary pass that no defender could have expected

A slip on the grass while running up to take a penalty

A perfectly placed shot into the upper corner from an angle that nobody would have imagined possible

An instantaneous loss of composure.

A butterfly flaps its wings over antarctica (fuck you, I know there aren't goddamn butterflies in Antarctica, just humor me, dammit!) and Zinedane Zidane plants his head into some Italian guy's chest instead of blowing off an insult. France cries in despair. Italy cries in joy.
(such shitty metaphors are why I'll never be paid for this crap)

Anyways...

I had a point. Yes.

A lack of motivation and time have put me in the unfortunate position of not being able to write a thorough, in-depth analysis of each match and team, but rather simply touch on those points that strike me as those possible butterflies over the antarctic that could, for all we know, affect who will end up losing to Germany in the final.

And of course there will be tales of drunken revelry while watching a game that I just don't fully remember seeing.

Oh, and I'll be occasionally tapping into the literary genius that is the brain of my Gay Satanic Hippie co-hort Alex for his careful and well-thought-out analysis. This guy knows what he's talking about. In fact, I'll do that later today....