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Oh, balls, indeed.
Germany lost to Italy today, which a) was very upsetting, b) serves as further proof that my half-Sicilian mother has powers that she uses for some questionable causes (in this case, the Italian team’s victory), and c) means that we (by which I mean “I”) need (by which I mean “am going to”) blog about some of the men on the Italian team.
Aside: I really don’t know what I’m going to do about this final, you guys (YOU GUYS). On the one hand, Italy beat England and Germany, so I’m sort of upset with them right now, you know? On the other, do we really need Spain to win? No, right? Like, maybe it is someone else’s turn, you know? Not Spain’s? I don’t know. I have a lot of feelings. In general, but also on this in particular.
But I digress. This is not about me (disclaimer: totally is). This way!
This is Mario Balotelli. He scored both of Italy’s goals today. He also plays for Manchester City (the club). In Manchester (the city), he has a reputation for terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, crazy behavior, because that is how all sentences written down about soccer players behaving locally go. If he has a behavioral reputation, it is not because word of his good deeds got around. He took his shirt off and posed after he scored today. I know I’m under the influence of sadness about Germany right now, and he did, objectively, play very well today, but I think I may very much dislike Mario Balotelli. (He cares.)
This is Andrea “Old but Great” Pirlo. (Edit: He’s only 33? Age has not been kind to you, Pirlo. Also, why do the ESPN announcers keep talking about him as though he is the Elder Statesman of all of Euro 2012?)
This is Gianluigi “Also Old, Also Great” Buffon. If he were not goalie, I would have no means by which to tell Buffon apart from Pirlo. None at all. They are the same person, to me. Just two old, great Italian men who look alike. (BRB, making a film.)
This is Federico Balzaretti. It was his handball (which, to be fair, was more a ball that bounced off of his arm but whatever, Eyes of Death took advantage of that penalty kick beautifully) that let Özil score for Germany today. He is a defender from Palermo. Honestly, I have nothing snarky to say about Balzaretti. I like his wild gesticulations on the field. Respect, Balzi. Respect. (Also, I like his hair. There, I said it.)
This is the Italian coach, Cesare Prandelli. Apparently, before the tournament started, he said he’d pull his squad if it would be for the good of the Italian game (guess it’s good that he didn’t). ANYWAY. He wears fierce suits on the sidelines and looks like the men in Rome who own cafés wherein businessmen linger too long in the mornings before lighting a cigarette and sauntering off to work. (Just look at that suit!)
Anyway, Italy. We’ll see how I feel about you come Sunday. As my mother says, “You’re Italian. And you’re Jewish. You should be happy about this.” I feel no such happiness. HOWEVER. You certainly have an interesting cast of characters. And a lot of men named Antonio.
This concludes the latest (and possibly last) installment of Oh, Balls! A Downhill Tumbl.