A City Mourns

Thursday, July 06, 2006

As the hangovers slowly make themselves know, an entire city cries out with one voice, "Wha? Portugal lose? Wha happine? Weddermy pance, heh? Wassa goin on? I'm ascared!"

Fall River, MA is largely inhabited by Portuguese people. In fact, so is pretty much every city and town from Providence to Cape Cod. Yesterday, they were too drunk to realize it, but today as the world prepares for the soccer equivalent of World War II (France v Italy), the Portuguese in the sleepy hamlets of the fertile coastal crescent of Massachusetts are admitting defeat.

Thank God.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a hate on the Portuguese post, but it was getting a bit tired hearing all the crap about how great their team was. They were never that good. Their star was a girl named Christine Reynaldo, who apparently tried to steal the image of another player with the same last name or something. This guy is a dumb baby. He would cry and fall down and cry and whine. I digress. In short, their team was representative of everything that is wrong with soccer today. And I should know. I'm an expert on soccer.

So, when France scored the winning goal on a penalty kick, I had to do what any proud French Canadian descendant would do. I cranked the TV and shouted "GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAL!" at my asshole Portagee neighbor who always has his garage door open with his radio cranking on the Portagee station. I shouted and whooped and hollered GOOOOAAAALLLL! like fifty times. I did a victory lap around my house with the French flag, ate some French Fries with French bread while wearing a beret on my front porch and sang the Canadian National Anthem (at least the part I know, over and over again) until he slammed his garage door and changed the station back to music instead of the game.

That p*ssy didn't even listen to the rest of the game!!! He's a baby just like his team and his country.

The French may be a bunch of cheese eating surrender monkeys, but at least we're not Portugal.