Azzurri, “Too Little, Too Late”


“It’s the end for Italy, tears of utter despair.”

Fabio Cannavaro leave the field, devastated after Italy's elimination by Slovakia (ESPN.com/AP Photo/Gero Breoloer)


Johanna: I am mourning for Italy
Kim: And France?
Johanna: France deserved what they got.
Kim: Do your tears taste like pasta?
Johanna: Salty, bitter pasta.

That pretty much sums it up, but I hate to be brief—particularly when I am upset.

Yesterday was a rough day in my life. Not only did my people fail me by becoming the most pathetic defending world champions and being eliminated in the group round, but I had some moving logistics set-backs (my which I mean my morning in the afternoon was an epic shit storm on many levels).

I’ve gotten over my moving troubles, but I’ve yet to recover from the bitter disappointment of Italy’s defeat, dealt by 3:2 by the Slovakian side.

Last weekend’s draw with New Zealand had a scent of embarrassment about it, but it was OK. Things were still OK—or rather, things could still be OK.

If the US team has taught us anything, it’s that things can still be OK at the last minute.

Of course, it’s best not to depend on a sudden eleventh hour stroke of genius. Yesterday’s Italian team played in a haze until the last minutes of the game when suddenly they seemed to remember that this nightmare was actually happening and that they’re Italian.

How often can one criticize Italy for a lack of passion? I mean really. That’s clichéd, but still—really.

If only, they had been able to get that shot of energy and passion (panic?) 30 minutes earlier even. They came close to a draw, there was that one moment at the end for a shot…

Instead, we had to watch in horror as the defending champions confirmed for the last time that they just didn’t have it in them any more. As the Italian side dragged each other off the pitch at varying stages of dismay, disbelief, dejection and despair (the four Ds, if you will), I just stared blankly at my television screen.

I had already cried earlier in the day, so I did not join my countrymen in their tears of devastation (that’s the fifth D), but that might have been due to the numbness induced by this unbelievable (yet painfully believable, which is the worst part) upset.

Oh sigh. I’m dwelling.

You had the easiest group for God’s sake!

Sorry. That was me continuing to dwell.

Let’s see what Alexi Lalas had to say.

“Tt was just absolutely—this was not even close to half the team we saw four years ago. They came in old, they played old and they left even older.”

He is so mean.

He proceeded to call the Dutch a well-oiled machine, and to wax poetic over Honda from Team Japan.

Whatever.

Now I am so confused. Am I going to end up fully supporting Team U.S.A.?

Weird.

More importantly, does that mean that I am going to have to start liking the U2 commercials? Because I am going to have to draw a line somewhere.

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