I honestly feel like I could have written most of the things that are on the Internet. Most of it is garbage, really. I can do garbage.
I cannot do this, though:
“There were all these moments in the first half. Passages where our guys would go rocketing forward, just action-verbing the living fuck out of the universe, and Clint Dempsey would bludgeon a shot a hair above the goal, and then Portugal would get the ball back, and roll it out to the wing, and just kind of stand there with it because there were no options. They would stand there with it in such an aristocratic way, though. It was like, Why, hello there, we are a European soccer team. And then we would get it back and go joyriding back down the pitch like, OH REALLY, BECAUSE WE’RE NOT.”