quinta-feira, julho 06, 2006

Americano da Cona da Mãe!!

The World Cup is down to the semifinals, and clearly one nation needs our support. The other three are soccer brutes. Germany has home-field advantage. Italy has tradition. France won in 1998, and some of the partyers still haven't gotten home yet.

Those three have more of everything, including people and land.

Portugal is the size of Indiana, with fewer citizens than the state of Ohio. So this is the Final Four, and Portugal is George Mason. Well, almost.
Really, how often do you get the chance to root for Portugal in anything? How often do you even get the chance to use the word "Portugal" in a sentence?

Portugal has been in only three previous World Cups. You could count the number of Olympic gold medals Portugal owns on one hand, and have fingers left over for Costa Rica.

The NBA has become the United Nations. The league had players this season from Ireland, Latvia, Turkey, Belize, the Sudan. But none from Portugal.
There certainly won't be any Portuguese in the last rounds of Wimbledon this week.

(There certainly won't be any Americans, either, but never mind that.)

The bad guys in war movies are never from Portugal. For that matter, the good guys aren't either.

Superman never had to save anyone from Portugal. James Bond hardly ever shows up in Portugal.
No mission has ever been impossible in Portugal.

The country has some beautiful places and the people work hard but the other three nations still alive in the World Cup have higher profiles in our cultural conscience, right down to the dinner table.

Who among us hasn't eaten German sausage, Italian bread, French pastry?

But have you ever knowingly put anything from Portugal in your mouth?

Not that the country is without representation at fine restaurants. Portugal is the world's leading cork producer. Remember that the next time you open a bottle of wine.

I have been trying to think of anything familiar named for Portugal. At last, an answer.

The Portuguese man-of-war.

There's a claim to fame. A stinging sea creature.

All that could change in the next few days if my new team wins the World Cup. All would bow to Portugal. If they knew which direction to look.

A study found a shocking number of American kids could not find the state of New York on a map. What do you think the chances are they could find Portugal?

But the soccer team is apparently a spunky lot. Dumping the English in a penalty kick shoot-out. Beating the Netherlands in a match that was as civil as a bar brawl at 1 a.m. The referee nearly got tennis elbow from pulling out red cards.

Of course, if we're going to be cheering for the lads, maybe we'd better get to know a few of them. The roster includes several of those cool one-word names.

Deco is one of our midfielders. So is Maniche. That's Ricardo in goal. His saves shook the British Empire so much, even Winston Churchill felt it.

Pauleta is one of our forwards. He's from the Azores.

It's not everyday you get a chance to root for a guy from the Azores.

The manager is Luiz Felipe Scolari, an Italian product who led Brazil to the World Cup in 2002. So he was a champion in one place, and now he wants to prove he can be a champion in another place.

Scolari, I believe, is Italian for Phil Jackson.

So it's our underdogs against the French on Wednesday. Let's get the Portuguese flag ready to fly.

One minor question.

What's it look like?


Retirado daqui



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