Beautiful man, beautiful game.
Yes, it was lovely, wasn't it?
Update: Like various things I blog about, I know substantively nothing about football, other than that it's nice not to be in North America during the World Cup. However, I have to disagree with particular complaint from Aleksandar Hemon at the Goal Post:
I used to like the English: they have a few exciting players; and I love Liverpool and Gerrard. But they have devolved into a bunch of lazy, unimaginative poster boys for the tabloid industry. Today, after Beckham scored, the cameras showed a reaction shot of his dumb-ass bimbo wife, while one can read daily reports in the English papers about the ways the footballers wives wasted their lives and money in Germany.
The way I remember it (I might have missed an early reaction shot while people in the bar jumped up and down and waved their arms in front of the screen), after Beckham scored, there was footage of him hugging his teammates, a couple of replays of the goal, a couple of crowd shots and only then -- as I thought to myself where's Posh? -- a reaction shot of Posh. At which point, I leaned forward in my fair-weather-rooting happiness and said to the lady in front of me, "I can't believe they're still married!" She said "If you can call it a marriage". Then we watched another couple of replays, more crowd shots, more mussing of Becks' hair by happy teammates, then another shot of Posh hugging the couple's son. At that, even my cynical barmate had to give in and say, "Oh, that's so sweet." And after that, no more Posh.
This strikes me as rather discreet, all things considered. And that the English papers obsess over the footballers' wives living large in Germany surely isn't a reflection on the footballers themselves. It's far more a reflection on the sad, sad condition of people like me.
Update: Like various things I blog about, I know substantively nothing about football, other than that it's nice not to be in North America during the World Cup. However, I have to disagree with particular complaint from Aleksandar Hemon at the Goal Post:
I used to like the English: they have a few exciting players; and I love Liverpool and Gerrard. But they have devolved into a bunch of lazy, unimaginative poster boys for the tabloid industry. Today, after Beckham scored, the cameras showed a reaction shot of his dumb-ass bimbo wife, while one can read daily reports in the English papers about the ways the footballers wives wasted their lives and money in Germany.
The way I remember it (I might have missed an early reaction shot while people in the bar jumped up and down and waved their arms in front of the screen), after Beckham scored, there was footage of him hugging his teammates, a couple of replays of the goal, a couple of crowd shots and only then -- as I thought to myself where's Posh? -- a reaction shot of Posh. At which point, I leaned forward in my fair-weather-rooting happiness and said to the lady in front of me, "I can't believe they're still married!" She said "If you can call it a marriage". Then we watched another couple of replays, more crowd shots, more mussing of Becks' hair by happy teammates, then another shot of Posh hugging the couple's son. At that, even my cynical barmate had to give in and say, "Oh, that's so sweet." And after that, no more Posh.
This strikes me as rather discreet, all things considered. And that the English papers obsess over the footballers' wives living large in Germany surely isn't a reflection on the footballers themselves. It's far more a reflection on the sad, sad condition of people like me.
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